There are few things in life that have caused me to become hysterical, complete with screaming and near hyperventilation. One morning, however, I came toes to nose with the fattest field mouse I’ve ever seen, who was very much alive but oddly unable to move…which left me unable to move and so we stood there, screaming and staring at each other for an awkward period of time. After what seemed an eternity I finally snapped out of it and reached for the nearest empty plastic container to place over Gus-Gus for safe containment. Now, the question occurred to me as I stood there, un-caffeinated arms crossed, silently staring at my current situation. “What does one do with a paralyzed field mouse that smells like medium roast coffee?”

My intention was to keep said scratch and sniff rodent under that overturned coffee container until an able bodied individual could come and save me from my fear of nearly dead animals. Alive animals: no problem! Dead animals: Gross, but whatever. Nearly dead animals: Oh, heck no! Pick a side animal, your indecisiveness is giving me anxiety.

I was not going to be the one to deal with this situation. A plan was necessary and I believed that my added safety precaution of stacking a twenty eight ounce can of tomatoes on top would help further contain the little guy until an adult could be found. Surely the added weight of those tomatoes would secure the red plastic coffee container to the wood flooring beneath. Wind storm or earthquake, that thing wasn’t going nowhere!

It was a great plan, epic plan, it lasted all of about fifteen minutes.

*** News Flash*** The reason you should not trap disabled mice under coffee cans on the kitchen floor: Because your three year old daughter will decide she needs to walk past said coffee can sixteen times in a two minute time frame. Before her seventeenth patrol she decided to put her cute little boots on, the ones with the shiny buckles on the ankle. She also decided they needed to be put on the wrong feet so that the shiny square buckles faced each other, on the inside of her foot instead of the outside. Then, she takes one more deviant stroll past the mouse trap (ignoring my repeated requests that she “buzz off”). Somehow, at the perfect moment, she manages to get the buckles on her shoes locked together while proudly walking past the mouse trap.

Forcibly and suddenly she was stopped by the binding of her legs together at the ankle. Her upper body still moving forward with intent to make it past the mouse trap. The result; she fell like a ton of bricks. She fell directly on top of the mouse trap.

Instantaneous mass chaos and catastrophe. Child, mouse, empty coffee container, and tomato can thrown up into the air as if an amateur juggler was tossing them about. Finally, all things alive came to what would be considered a screeching halt. Child, frozen, splayed out on the floor with a look of horror on her guilty face. Mouse, paralyzed, splayed out on the kitchen floor with a look of horror on it’s shocked little face. Both thinking the exact same thing, “Oh NO, did I land on that terrible creature? Is it touching me?”

Now, I’m not sure if it was the cold I had been fighting or the fact that I was loosing my mommy fried mind, but I couldn’t stop laughing. I was laughing hard. My poor baby was very unhappy with my response to this traumatic event in her little life. I struggled to contain my “I hope you’ve learned to listen to your mother” lecture that wanted to spill from my lips between hysterical laughter.

Then, after the snorting and gasping for air had passed from me, I realized that an adult would have to pick up that half dead, petrified mouse. I couldn’t find any adults so I just had to put my big girl panties on and take care of it. I can’t tell you what I did, how, or why. I’ve stricken them from my memory. The rest of this however, is burned into my brain; tucked in between giving birth and almost being deported to Mexico.

I hope it gave you a good laugh today. Some things just have to be shared, like a good belly laugh. Have a blessed day, looking for joy even in the strangest of circumstances. Joy will always be found.

From the Vault, for Pure Amusement.

This story is from February 2015

To protect the identity of my children, I do not use their names in my blog, I also can’t remember what their names are. Please don’t post any comments with names included. Thanks!