- The Middle Aged Lady who lived in a shoe...
- There are times that I really do feel like The Little Old Woman Who Lived in the Shoe. I even call our little house "The Shoe". I am a stay at home mom. I do really think that was my calling. My kids are 13, 10, 10, (yes they are twins) and 5. Our life is an adventure, most times it really is a beautiful adventure.
Monday, 28 May 2012
Bats In The Bedroom - No this is not an erotic story....oh no, not erotic.
The kids just did not want to settle last night. There were many calls for drinks, can you fix my blankets, any stall tactic they could think of really. Consequently Christopher and I were later getting to bed (we need some alone time together before we can go to bed). Christopher has that gift that I would love, as soon as his head hits the pillow he's out like a light. I was reading a good book. It was late, but the world was a good place at that moment in time. I heard some rustling in the kitchen or living room. I thought maybe something was near the open kitchen window. I didn't think anything of it until I saw the bat fly into our bedroom.
I tell Riley that I like bats, but I am a liar liar pants on fire. I like bats... in pictures. On Christopher and my very first date we went to the ROM. They had a bat cave exhibit. I wanted no part of it. At that point in time I was much, much smaller and so he picked me up and began to carry me into the exhibit. He thought that was hilarious, until I went mental. I think he might have scars still from that date. My point, I am not a real fan of live bats in my house!
So this bat is flying around my bedroom and it looks HUGE. I start squealing, a high pitched squeal, and simultaneously shaking Christopher to wake him. I then pull the covers up over top of my head (they say that bats won't get caught in your hair because they have this complex sonar system, but I don't trust "them"). My husband is a good man, he is an amazing father, and an amazing husband, be he is not your man in a panic situation. I think that it is safe to say that he did not miss his calling as a fire fighter or an ambulance attendant, he's probably better after the fact (remember he's a funeral director... they are already dead). So I'm under the covers squealing and Christopher is sitting bolt upright in bed, then he sees the bat and for some reason he starts jumping on me (I can't see why, because my head is under the covers... remember). I am shouting at him in a muffled tone to quit jumping on me and to get the @@$&$&$ bat! I'm not sure what he was thinking but in a panic he hit the bat with a pillow. " I think I killed it" he says. "What did you use to kill it with?" I ask. " A pillow". So now I'm going to have to throw out that pillow and I'm pretty sure that it's my new Fieldcrest one. "It's not dead" he shouts "I'm going to go and get my shoe." "What the Hell are you going to do with your shoe?" meanwhile I know full well what that idiot is going to do with his shoe. I am picturing bat guts all over my floor, up the sides of my bed, the wall. I scream out from under the covers "OH NO YOU DON"T!!!!!" "Get a small box and throw it over him." ( I'm just barking out orders from under the safety of my covers.) "Yeah, and then what am I supposed to do?" he says in a disgusted tone. "We'll get some card-stock, or the dustpan and slide it underneath. Then you can take it outside and let it go". To me this plan was brilliant, fool proof. He found a shoe-box and set the plan into motion. "I'm going to need something to slide under it" he says in that disgusted tone. "I'll help, but that bat had better not get out of there, or I swear to GOD...." I peak my head out only to see the bat's little head peaking out of a small hole in the box. I quickly return to the blanket fort. "NOW WHAT?" my husband who is by day a very even tempered, good man is slowly turning to the dark-side.
I don't know where the tennis racket came from. Perhaps unknown to me Christopher keeps it stashed under his side of the bed, so that he can sneak out for midnight tennis matches, but the next time I peeked out from under the safety of my blankest he had the bat trapped under the tennis racket. It looked much smaller when it was not flying around the room. I felt sorry for it, it was kind of cute, until it started making clicking noises at me. I ran and grabbed a garbage bag, "What am I supposed to do with this?" my husband asks. "Just put it over the top, then let go of the racket and it will fly up into the bag." "That won't work!" "Oh it will work, just trust me." I will be honest, I was not really as confident in my plan as I let on. The one thing that I have learned living in a family of panicers is to never show weakness. You have to pretend to be confident, even if you're not, or else it's game over! The next thing I knew Christopher had the garbage bag wrapped around the tennis racket. It looked like a hillbilly Christmas gift.
After the tennis racket had been wrapped like a Christmas gift, Christopher starts shouting at me "Open the door, how am I supposed to hold this and get out." Last night was not my husband's finest hour. I admit that if he had not been holding a garbage bag with a bat in it, I may not have been so pleasant. I ran obediently and opened the door, and then propped open the screen door. I then ran like my pants were on fire back to my hiding space under the covers.
Mission accomplished, the bat was no longer our house guest. It's pretty funny today in the day light, with no bat flying around the room.