Invasion of the Tiny Midnight Mammals

Beware people there is an intruder on the loose. He maybe seen in the wee hours of the morning scurrying about the empty streets of your tiny town. He has escaped his gilded cage and is on the lamb. He is between 2 and 4 inches tall, weighing approximately 4 ounces. The perpetrator is of furry and beady eyed decent. Eyes: Black. Hair: Tan. Tail: Brown. Proceed with caution.
By this point you are wondering what the hell I am talking about, and I don't blame you. Now I am going to tell you the story of the very long night that I had last night. There will be times that you will feel empathy for me, there will be times that you will snicker at my misfortune, and by the end of this you are going to think that I was so sleep deprived that I had begun to hallucinate. I assure that is nothing but true. The events that are about to unfold are as I remember them, and they are true:
I have recently been helping my cousin around the house in exchange for free internet, laundry, and laughter (not to mention that the time I spend with her kids helps my biological clock tick less loudly). Last night turned into a real doozie. After a day of chasing kids, gardening, housework, and nonsensical child talk the night went rather well. No big events. No big melt downs. I should have know. Should have seen it coming. It was like being in the eye of the storm. Then it happened....at 2:07 a.m. The baby woke up. I thought I would be helpful. I went and got the baby and tried for a good long time to help him calm down and fall back to sleep. I was not successful.
First I tried to rock him. That probably would have worked if the rocking chair, which is a glider style rocker, didn't make a very loud squeaking sound every time I rocked. Fail. Then we tried to watch a one of those Smart-Lady-Makes-A-Fortune-From-Her-Basement-By-Using-Toys-And-Sock-Puppet videos. That worked for about 7 minutes until the twirly toy that caught his attention was no longer on the screen. Let the tears roll! We tried this pacifier and that pacifier and sitting by ourselves while staring at each other and we sat together staring at each other and 2 different blankets and a pillow and no pillow and the TV on and the TV off....I was ready to lose my mind or hogtie him. But I did not I kept my cool and tried like hell to wait him out. All the while mentally changing my grocery list to include less wine and more contraceptives.

Just as the wailing began to subside and I could see the blissful night's sleep at the end of the tunnel the unthinkable happened... the baby's sister woke up. She then climbed into my lap and proceeded to begin her tear-filled, totally unnecessary cry fest. Yay hurray!!! Not. All I really wanted to do was fold some laundry, watch The Crucible, and have a beer. No such luck. Or as my dad would say no rest for the wicked or the mentally insane. I don't know which one I am, but I know how many more crying children I was away from being both.
It was about this time I was beginning to wonder if my cousin had gone deaf or had died since neither had come out of their room to see why their children were screaming as though they were being butchered. But I held my ground and tried like hell not to wake them. After all they have had 3 kids in six years which means that they are probably about 8 years behind on sleep. Eventually the pleading for mommy, the crying for no reason, and the non-existent leg cramp that plagued the toddler could not be subdued. This whole bawl-fest had gone on long enough. Another 15 minutes and I would have grabbed a blanky and joined in. So I knocked on the door. I waited, and just as I was about to knock again my cousin came to the door. She looked bewildered, semi-well rested, and completely unaware that her children were falling apart at the seams. I told her what had been happening. She apologized and looked a little guilty. She couldn't hear the kids over the closed door and the air conditioner. A likely story if you ask me.
The toddler didn't take long to pass out as soon as she discovered that her mother was indeed alive and in the house. Crisis averted. And the baby just need to snuggle his mama while looking at me with blinking eyes. I am pretty sure he was laughing at me. I could see on his big brown-eyed evil face that he thought that he won. We you may have won this round, sonny. This ain't over 'till it's over. With the new found silence, the ability to hear my own thoughts, and the prospect of being able to go to sleep very near I sneaked out to get a smoke.
As I lit my cigarette and felt myself relax. I looked up and down the street to see if any other poor sleepless, silence depraved bastard were standing on their porch. There was not. There was how ever a very tiny something running down the curb under the streetlight. I immediately remember the night before my cousin's husband saying that he had seen a gerbil in the road. Of course or reaction had been to only kind-of, barely, not really believe him that he saw what he saw. As I darted across the road to see what it was, I was flabbergasted to see that indeed was a little tan colored gerbil running lose. In the immortal words of my grandmother: "You have got to be shitting me?!"I couldn't believe my eyes. I ran inside to share my news. We got a good laugh out of it, but as I lay awake I couldn't help but wonder how a gerbil would escape and become lose on the streets. Did he barely escape with his life when the cat tried to make lunch out of him? Was he left alone and unwanted by some fair-weather pet owner that decided that he could fend for himself? Perhaps he was flushed by a mom (or dad) that had cleaned out his ammonia soaked wood shavings for the last time. Or maybe, just maybe, his is a tiny crime fighter. Family pet by day Super Gerbil by night. Riding the world of molasses coated corn kernels and rogue gnawing blocks. Saving the world from the Evil Doctor Kitten and his plans to take over the planet by delivering his minions to 7-year-olds everywhere under the guise of birthday gifts.

We may never know what how the gerbil became released into the wild. We may never know his the story of his life or understand how trying it is to be a gerbil on the run, but I will always wonder. And I will know that every time a goldfish gets flushed before his time or a mouse gets cornered by an evil tabby cat he will be there. In the shadows saving lives, eating carrots, and watching out for the little guy.

Bathroom Etiquette for Strangers

There are days when the strangest things happen and you can't help but think that there is no way that anyone is going to believe this. Well today was one of those days. After a long and trying day helping my cousin with her daycare and making a princess costume that I was convinced for the better part of the afternoon that was going to drive me over the edge, resulting in my admission into the nearest psych ward, there was an unexpected knock at the front door.
Now this happens on occasion. There are some days that a missionary or the postal carrier or a stray cat decide to knock on your door for one reason or another. Now, I don't need another pamphlet to tell me that Jesus saves, but I do accept gifts all year around so you just never know what might be waiting behind door number one. Today, however, I don't think that I could have anticipated what was knocking on the door.
Standing on the doorstep with a friendly but anxious smile was a woman that I (or anyone else in the house) had never seen a day in my life. She had a kind of desperation in her eyes that suggested that there was something emergent on her mind and a wiggle in her hips that suggested she didn't have the kind of bladder needed to win a Big Gulp drinking contest. Now for reasons unknown to me this this unfortunate soul (who was only unfortunate because of present circumstance not because she was "down and out") was clutching her debit card in her hand. I asked if I could help her, and in a strained uncomfortable voice she flapped her hands and said: "I don't ususally do this. I swear I never do...but I need to use your bathroom I am not going to make it to the corner." Now the corner is a local drugstore. I can't say that I find myself at a loss for words often, and though my brain was screaming "this woman has lost her mind," I looked at my cousin for support and the ability to say no.
I say that my emmediate response was to wonder about the woman's sanity, but the truth is a few things went through my mind as I stared into her uncomfortable face.
            1. This is why I live in the country.
            2. Where are the hidden cameras?
            3. Is she serious?
            4. What is it going do to my Karma if I say no?
            And lastly:
            5. Why did she pick this house? What is it about the house that
             says "come on in and use our crapper"?
I am still not really sure if either of us agreed to let her use the bathroom, she may have just taken our dumbfounded faces to mean that she was welcome, or she may have just been so overcome by the need to empty her bladder that she rushed through the door and stopped. Her eyes darted from side to side assessing the house in hopes of quickly discovering the porcelain god that would be her salvation. "Its in there," my cousin said with a furrowed brow and an uncertain voice. "Oh great!" the woman said, "I swear I'm not looking at your house." Really? The part of me that is my mother and takes pride in house keeping even though it is not my number one priority, thought: "What the hell is that supposed to mean? You take care of 5 kids all day while making a rather complicated costume that requires the sewing machine, re-purposed fabric, a paper mache' unicorn horn, and a few discarded ideas and see how your house looks."
Of course while she took her record speed my cousin and I exchanged the is-this-really-happening-look and counted her children to make sure that they were all accounted for. She emerged from the bathroom relieved and happy. I think there was a brief moment in her euphoria that she had forgotten her imposition. When her wits came back to her she rushed for the door thanking us profusely and declaring how uncommon it was for her to do this but that her desperation had simply overwhelmed her.
There was a moment after she left that we said nothing to one and other. Perhaps we were too taken aback by what had occurred or maybe we weren't really sure what had happened. Was this all some crazy dream that subconsciously makes you aware of the type of person you are? Whatever the case, upon the woman leaving and our having a rather lengthy conversation about how strange it was to be asked to use the bathroom by a stranger in the middle of the afternoon, we promptly checked the medicine cabinet and accounted for the bath salts before proceeding to clean all of the areas she may have come in contact with. This unexpected "visitor" was nothing but polite and gracious. She did nothing obscene or uncalled for, and there was no real mess to clean (it was simply our germ-a-phobic patriotic nature that convinced us to clean everything in hopes of diverting her terrorist scheme to release germ warfare). We are not worse for wear and we didn't go out of our way to do a good deed, but I think that we will be talking about this one and rehashing the events of our mistery bathroom user for years to come. Kind of like me still telling the opossum in the outhouse story every chance I get for the last 4 years.*

                                        
                                         Prairie Doggin' - Rat Race


*Don't worry someday I will tell you the opossum in the outhouse story.