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I haven’t written about my sister for a while but it’s not because she isn’t still interesting. Or embarrassing. It’s more that I just get tired of the crazy and sometimes writing about it starts to feel like crazy overload. Lynne was have trouble with the police recently and was calling me all the time to tell me about it. She would complain that they were always driving by and watching her. I doubt that was the paranoia. I think that if they have any idea at all it would behoove them to keep an eye on her.
She was bothering neighbors this year and evidently a couple of them actually turned her in. One neighbor saw my dad outside and told him that he needed to do something about her. That brings me back to something that really pisses me off. People always seem to have this idea that the family just doesn’t know or want to be bothered. The reality is that you can be pretty crazy and there is nothing that anyone can do to help. If you’re new here, please check out a few of these stories to get an idea of the frustration involved in trying to get help for a mentally ill family member. Here's a good one.
Lynne’s harassment of the neighbor’s continued and the police continued driving by. Then they stepped it up a notch and started knocking on her door. Which in turn stepped up the crazy phone calls to my house.
Lynne- “I don’t know what those people want but they were at the door.”
Me- “What people?”
Lynne- “The police.”
Me- “Didn’t you answer the door?”
Lynne- “Hell, no, I didn’t answer the door! For all I know, they might want to haul me off.”
Me- “So you just pretended not to be home? Like Grandma used to do when we had to play the “hiding game” when the Jehovah’s Witnesses were in the neighborhood?”
Lynne, sounding smug.- “Yep.”
A few days later there was another frantic call.
Lynne- “Jesus Christ, they were here again!”
Me- “Huh? The police?
Lynne- “Yes, those bastards.”
Me- “Well, what did they want?”
Lynne- “I don’t know! I didn’t answer the door. Do you think I’m crazy or something? I just know that I didn’t call them and I don’t want any part of it.”
Me- “Well, if you don’t answer the door then how are you going to find out what they want?”
Lynne, screeching- “I don’t give a fuck what they want! I just climbed out my bedroom window for Christ’s sake!”
I couldn’t respond for a while because I was laughing too hard. They eventually caught up with her outside and just advised her to leave the neighbors alone.
My mom called a few days ago to tell me that there were a couple of murderers loose in Lynne’s small town.
Mom- “It was in the paper. They beat some guy to death and they haven’t found them yet. I’m not telling Lynne.”
I thought that was pretty funny but still, I thought maybe she should have a head’s up on actual killers loose in town, as opposed to the regular thing where she just thinks the neighbors are trying to kill her.
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
Just to Explain, She Learned it From Her Big Brothers...
Marin still has an abnormal interest in bathing. Yesterday she was throwing things in the bath and making a mess so I made her leave the room.
Me- “Ok, that’s enough. You’re done. Go downstairs.”
Marin walked out but I heard her say, “Mommy, asshole.” (She says “a-ole” but it’s pretty clear what she’s saying.)
I ignored it but the Katie came running to report Marin.
Katie- “Uh-oh! Marin said the “A” word!”
Marin didn’t deny it and confessed instead- “I say it, “A” word.”
This morning she was over the side and in the bathtub with me before I had a chance to object.
Me- “I guess you’re taking a bath with me.”
Marin- “Yeah.”
We had a few moments of peace before Marin announced, “I peed!” I briefly toyed with the idea of calling her an asshole but elected not to.
Me- “Ok, that’s enough. You’re done. Go downstairs.”
Marin walked out but I heard her say, “Mommy, asshole.” (She says “a-ole” but it’s pretty clear what she’s saying.)
I ignored it but the Katie came running to report Marin.
Katie- “Uh-oh! Marin said the “A” word!”
Marin didn’t deny it and confessed instead- “I say it, “A” word.”
This morning she was over the side and in the bathtub with me before I had a chance to object.
Me- “I guess you’re taking a bath with me.”
Marin- “Yeah.”
We had a few moments of peace before Marin announced, “I peed!” I briefly toyed with the idea of calling her an asshole but elected not to.
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Shhhh! Don't Tell PETA....
Things Marin has said today- “You cute, Mommy!” “I love you much!” and when I picked her up to take her for a nap, “You a hebby kid.”
The last few days when I haven’t been busy with kids, I have been on a mission to rid the house of the mice that recently moved in. I first started hearing little noises in my bedroom and eventually figured out that it was a mouse. I find it difficult to sleep with the knowledge that there is a rodent prowling around in my room. I got C to put two traps in there and hoped that would be the end of it. After a few days of checking and re-checking the live traps, I discovered that there was no bait in them. C claimed that they must have eaten it but I saw no evidence of peanut butter residue. I fixed the traps with peanut butter and waited.
While I was patiently waiting for the mouse to climb in to the humane trap, I began to become discouraged. There was a downstairs mouse as well by this time. I can hear the mouse at night when I am sitting at my desk. I honestly wonder where the expression “quiet as a mouse” comes from. I have no trouble hearing the mouse scurrying about on the lookout for discarded remnants of Cheetos.
I have taken to sitting with my feet up on my desk to prevent the possibility of a mouse running up my leg. People like to say, “Oh, they are more afraid of you…” etc. but I don’t even want to hear that. I have encountered a few mice before and realize that if nothing else, they are unpredictable and seem uncertain of which direction to go. I have had a mouse run straight at me and I have seen one jump straight up in the air. It’s alarming, at the very least.
Last year my friend Ann recounted a mouse incident at her house. I can still remember the conversation.
Ann- “You are not going to believe this but I had a mouse in my hand!”
Me- “What? Are you kidding?”
Ann- “No, I’m not kidding.”
Me, disgusted yet still fascinated- “What happened?”
Ann- “I reached the scoop into the dog food bag and when I pulled it out there was a mouse in my hand.”
Me- “Oh, my God! What did you do?”
Ann- “What do you think? I screamed and threw it. I think I need to invest in Rubbermaid.”
Of course I laughed and laughed at Ann’s mouse horror story much like I did when a neighbor encountered a mouse in my presence. The neighbor’s cat had left the mouse on her front porch, contributing to feeding the family, as some cats like to do.
The neighbor is not a fan of mice but braver than most women. She picked the mouse up by the tail and threw it in the yard. She noticed signs of movement and went over for a closer look. That turned out to be a mistake that she would live to regret. Just as she leaned over to look, the mouse made a full recovery from his apparent death. The mouse promptly ran straight up her pants leg. The neighbor began screaming while engaging in a choreiform-like dance. I suppose, in retrospect, maybe I should have done something to help, given that the poor women had a mouse in her pants. Instead, I laughed and laughed until I had tears rolling down my cheeks. I think it is safe to say that I have earned some bad mouse karma that day.
The mouse battle continues and the old-fashioned snap traps have been added to the arsenal. The night before last I heard a loud “pop” that awakened me from my slumber. I turned on a light and instinctively grabbed a Mag-light as well. I’m not sure what I planned on doing with that but when battling rodents one must be prepared.
I saw that a mouse had been caught in the trap but was not yet dead. He didn’t even appear close to dead really, just stuck and wild-eyed. He was determined to escape the trap and used his body weight to flip the trap over repeatedly. I went to get C since, as you might have guessed by this point in the story, I’m afraid of mice. C refused to help me and suggested I remove it myself. I toyed with the idea of getting the salad tongs but hated the idea of risking the mouse freeing himself while he was dangling near my legs. I also thought that I would really hate to have to throw out a perfectly good pair of tongs. The tongs would have to have been disposed of because it would be forever burned into my memory that they were now “the mouse tongs”.
I went back over to once again evaluate and re-group. I felt sorry for the mouse, it was a pitiful sight but I also realized that he was very determined to escape. I got the fire extinguisher and balanced it on the edge of the trap to prevent any further flipping. Then I went back to bed. I know that sounds cold but I thought that a traumatized mouse that had just escaped a trap would be crazier than a regular unpredictable mouse. I just didn’t want to wake up to an angry mouse exacting his revenge by chewing my ear off in the night. The next day I convinced Andrea to dispose of the body. I supplied the latex gloves. Her only condition was that the trap was going in the trash as well. Everyone has their limits.
The downstairs mouse continues to roam around nightly with free reign of the house. He has skillfully evaded all traps. A couple of nights ago I was sitting at my desk talking to Claire. I had just seen the mouse and of course I had my feet up and on high-alert. The mouse then darted across the room full-throttle causing me to scream. That in turn caused Claire to scream while simultaneously jumping up in the air and launching herself into my lap, backwards. It was a very fluid movement as if we had practiced this maneuver in anticipation of such an event. Claire isn’t really afraid of mice. She claims that she thinks they are cute. I’m just not buying her bravado after that particular display.
If the traps don’t work any time soon, I’ll be the one walking around the house in the hip-waders.
The last few days when I haven’t been busy with kids, I have been on a mission to rid the house of the mice that recently moved in. I first started hearing little noises in my bedroom and eventually figured out that it was a mouse. I find it difficult to sleep with the knowledge that there is a rodent prowling around in my room. I got C to put two traps in there and hoped that would be the end of it. After a few days of checking and re-checking the live traps, I discovered that there was no bait in them. C claimed that they must have eaten it but I saw no evidence of peanut butter residue. I fixed the traps with peanut butter and waited.
While I was patiently waiting for the mouse to climb in to the humane trap, I began to become discouraged. There was a downstairs mouse as well by this time. I can hear the mouse at night when I am sitting at my desk. I honestly wonder where the expression “quiet as a mouse” comes from. I have no trouble hearing the mouse scurrying about on the lookout for discarded remnants of Cheetos.
I have taken to sitting with my feet up on my desk to prevent the possibility of a mouse running up my leg. People like to say, “Oh, they are more afraid of you…” etc. but I don’t even want to hear that. I have encountered a few mice before and realize that if nothing else, they are unpredictable and seem uncertain of which direction to go. I have had a mouse run straight at me and I have seen one jump straight up in the air. It’s alarming, at the very least.
Last year my friend Ann recounted a mouse incident at her house. I can still remember the conversation.
Ann- “You are not going to believe this but I had a mouse in my hand!”
Me- “What? Are you kidding?”
Ann- “No, I’m not kidding.”
Me, disgusted yet still fascinated- “What happened?”
Ann- “I reached the scoop into the dog food bag and when I pulled it out there was a mouse in my hand.”
Me- “Oh, my God! What did you do?”
Ann- “What do you think? I screamed and threw it. I think I need to invest in Rubbermaid.”
Of course I laughed and laughed at Ann’s mouse horror story much like I did when a neighbor encountered a mouse in my presence. The neighbor’s cat had left the mouse on her front porch, contributing to feeding the family, as some cats like to do.
The neighbor is not a fan of mice but braver than most women. She picked the mouse up by the tail and threw it in the yard. She noticed signs of movement and went over for a closer look. That turned out to be a mistake that she would live to regret. Just as she leaned over to look, the mouse made a full recovery from his apparent death. The mouse promptly ran straight up her pants leg. The neighbor began screaming while engaging in a choreiform-like dance. I suppose, in retrospect, maybe I should have done something to help, given that the poor women had a mouse in her pants. Instead, I laughed and laughed until I had tears rolling down my cheeks. I think it is safe to say that I have earned some bad mouse karma that day.
The mouse battle continues and the old-fashioned snap traps have been added to the arsenal. The night before last I heard a loud “pop” that awakened me from my slumber. I turned on a light and instinctively grabbed a Mag-light as well. I’m not sure what I planned on doing with that but when battling rodents one must be prepared.
I saw that a mouse had been caught in the trap but was not yet dead. He didn’t even appear close to dead really, just stuck and wild-eyed. He was determined to escape the trap and used his body weight to flip the trap over repeatedly. I went to get C since, as you might have guessed by this point in the story, I’m afraid of mice. C refused to help me and suggested I remove it myself. I toyed with the idea of getting the salad tongs but hated the idea of risking the mouse freeing himself while he was dangling near my legs. I also thought that I would really hate to have to throw out a perfectly good pair of tongs. The tongs would have to have been disposed of because it would be forever burned into my memory that they were now “the mouse tongs”.
I went back over to once again evaluate and re-group. I felt sorry for the mouse, it was a pitiful sight but I also realized that he was very determined to escape. I got the fire extinguisher and balanced it on the edge of the trap to prevent any further flipping. Then I went back to bed. I know that sounds cold but I thought that a traumatized mouse that had just escaped a trap would be crazier than a regular unpredictable mouse. I just didn’t want to wake up to an angry mouse exacting his revenge by chewing my ear off in the night. The next day I convinced Andrea to dispose of the body. I supplied the latex gloves. Her only condition was that the trap was going in the trash as well. Everyone has their limits.
The downstairs mouse continues to roam around nightly with free reign of the house. He has skillfully evaded all traps. A couple of nights ago I was sitting at my desk talking to Claire. I had just seen the mouse and of course I had my feet up and on high-alert. The mouse then darted across the room full-throttle causing me to scream. That in turn caused Claire to scream while simultaneously jumping up in the air and launching herself into my lap, backwards. It was a very fluid movement as if we had practiced this maneuver in anticipation of such an event. Claire isn’t really afraid of mice. She claims that she thinks they are cute. I’m just not buying her bravado after that particular display.
If the traps don’t work any time soon, I’ll be the one walking around the house in the hip-waders.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Kid Pics
The only thing I have to say is that I have a question. Does anyone remember when I recently re-baked a cake? I turned the oven on to 400 degrees about ten minutes ago to pre-heat. Then Katie asked me why I was baking the cake again. Maybe I better start hiding baked good in the dishwasher instead.
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