Don't judge.

I find myself asking everyone to withhold judgment on several of my blog posts. This is because I judge all too quickly, and because I share too much information, stories I know are similar to everyone, but that everyone is afraid to share. The following post is one such story.

I traumatized Kitty. Totally and completely. Here's how it happened...

I was busy downstairs (ok, I was reading blogs) and she was upstairs getting her shoes on for school. I hear her begin down the stairs and then I hear a timid, "Mommy?"

"I'm down here."

"Mommy? Mommy. Mommy!"

"What? Come down here."

"Mommy, I'm scared."

So I begrudgingly start up the stairs and see her frozen in the corner with a worried look on her face. She gestures slightly to the opposite corner where I have a rattan basket by the front door. I glance quickly and see a little curled up mouse sleeping on the lid of the basket.

I screamed. I screamed loudly and shrilly.

She screamed. She screamed loudly and shrilly.

I froze and she continued to scream with more urgency and terror.

The sleeping mouse continued to sleep.

"Come here Kitty."

She shook her head, sobbing. The mouse was between us. As ashamed as I am to admit it, I hesitated. I leaned as far over as I could and grabbed Katherine and carried her passed the rodent and down the stairs.

We escaped through the garage.

Once we were safely in the car I called Jared.

"Get rid of it!" he said, "You can't let it stay in the house! Get a shovel, brick or something and just kill it!"

"I can't." (And if you want the truth, it wasn't because I would be killing it, it was because it might jump on me.)

"Then step on it."

I hung up, grabbed a shovel and got as far as the bottom stair. I couldn't do it, I could barely look at it, let alone kill it. What if I missed? Then what, I let it dart off to some unknown location in my house? Or worse, jump into my hair?

I called Bogda, she would know what to do. She wasn't home. I knocked on my other neighbor's door, he wasn't home. Then I came up with a solution, cover the mouse with a bowl and leave it for Jared to take care of when he got home.

It probably took me at least 10 minutes to work up the courage to get close enough to put the bowl over it and then put a brick on top of the bowl.

This is not our first mouse experience. Many of you know about the one in the washing machine, I am still getting over it.

Suffice it to say I am skittish in my own home-- again. Especially blogging at night in the basement. Time to set the traps-- again. We went for almost a year with no problems, but it was bound to happen, everyone on our street has mice issues.