Life After Trauma

You just never know how strong you can be until tragedy strikes. A few Mondays ago, I learned about my own strength.

It all started when I woke up. The kids were downstairs with Andrew (the fact that I was alone and undisturbed should have been clue #1 that something was wrong.) ...anyways I sat there listening to my husband bang some pots and pans around and I cringed when I heard him slam the silverware drawer.

"Why isn't he at work? Why is he unloading the dishwasher? What day is it?" ...I had so many questions.

I casually got up and brushed my teeth. I took my time knowing that was all the alone time I'd get that day.
I went downstairs where I was met by my sweet husband-with beads of water dripping down his bald head.

"Why are you so sweaty? It's like 7am..?"

"Uh... I was trying to catch a spider but it ran under the couch..."

I glance over and see my kids running circles around the couch that is oddly placed in the middle of the living room.

"Omg. All this work for a spider? I'll get it."

"Well...umm ok..no..but.."

I interrupted him by grabbing a paper towel to go smash it. He stopped me and told me to just hold the end of the couch up while he threw a beach towel over it. A BEACH towel?? How big is this spider?  (Should have been clue #2)

"No wonder the spider ran from you! You can't throw a giant towel at it!"


**disclaimer: my manly husband has the ultimate case of Heebie Jeebies when it comes to spiders. They are his kryptonite. That's why I didn't find it odd that he was in such a predicament.**

Anywho, he talks me into holding the couch up while he "tries to catch it"...but at that moment I knew something was off. I'm not sure if it was the sweat dripping from his brow or my daughter chanting "Mickey Mouse! Mickey Mouse! Mickey Mouse!" In the corner. Something wasn't right.

I ask him again, "was it a large spider?"
And he broke. He told me he saw mouse poop by the slider door and when he looked up he saw a mouse dart across the floor under the couch.

WTF. WHAT. OMG. AREYOUKIDDINGME. ICANT. IMDEAD.

He was actually going to let me hold a couch up in mid-air, leaving me completely vulnerable to Mickey running up my pajama pants and biting my face off?!?! He literally must not love me at all. AND he was NOT unloading the dishwasher like I thought...he was looking for something to catch it with! UGH.

So I refused to hold the couch up, or go anywhere near it for that matter. The only obvious solution was to set it on fire.

After a little more debating (OK arguing, maybe a little crying), Andrew declares that he has done all he can do, and now it was time to call an exterminator while he went to work.

WAITAMINUTE. I'm NOT staying here alone, with a rogue mouse and 2 kids. Nope. Plus, the vermin had been in my kitchen and possibly my living room. God knows what it touched. We have to throw all of our belongings away. Immediately.

(Needless to say, Andrew didn't get to leave until everything was properly disposed of and proper mouse barricades and traps were set in place. He also had to convince me that the mouse got scared and ran back outside while we were tearing the house apart.)


Fast forward to the next day. There had been no more sightings of the mouse, but it left more poop for us. The thing was STILL in our house.  We were practically living in filth at this point. Omg.
We finally got an exterminator to come over. He may or may not have been greeted by a crazy, hysterical mom begging him to bring ALL the traps he could get his hands on.

Mr. Exterminator comes inside and I promptly show him the mouse poop. He takes a look and laughs.

**this is where things get fuzzy. I'm basing this off the info my 3 year old has given me since I'm pretty sure I blacked out.**

The guy looks at me and tells me, "oh...that's too big to be mouse poop. That's from a rat."  A RAT. AFREAKINGRAT!!!!!!!!

I could deal with the fact that there was a mouse somewhere. They seemed harmless enough in Cinderella. They even made her clothes. We could have possibly been friends one day. But not a rat. Rats live in the sewer and boss the Ninja Turtles around. Rats are in horror movies. Rats EAT PEOPLE. Or something like that. Rats are the worst of the worst and they are one of the only reasons to burn your house down. I can't have a rat in my house. I vacuum usually! There's nothing in my house it wants!

But alas, it was true. A nasty devil rat lurked somewhere in my once safe and peaceful house.

Mr. Exterminator set proper traps and poison, and gave me instructions on how to not let a rat-trap break your hand if you accidentally come in contact with it. Fabulous. We were all set. Now we wait.

I spent the rest of the day searching the house for signs of the creature. At this point I was seeing things. I couldn't let my kids sit on the furniture because what if it was in the couch?  I couldn't let them sit on the floor, because what if it was down there waiting to attack? I couldn't let them eat, because what if they dropped a crumb and it attracted another rat? I couldn't let them sleep because WHAT IF IT WAS GOING TO EAT THEIR FACES OFF? The only 2 logical things to do where:

A.) sit and wait for it
B.) leave and never come back


...so we left. We ate lunch in the car in the driveway. We walked around target for like 3 hours. We went to the park.  But eventually we had to come back home. (Kids were complaining about wanting to sleep in their beds, blah blah) WHO COULD SLEEP DURING A CRISIS LIKE THIS??

After everyone settled down and went to sleep, I sat in my son's room and waited. I don't know what I was waiting for but I waited. Around 11 pm I went to my bedroom where my husband and daughter were sleeping. I was about to open the door when I heard scratching. I heard my dog pawing at the door to get out. But wait. The dog was in bed with my son. Did I really hear those noises? Or was I just so paranoid and sleep-deprived that I imagined it? I woke Andrew up and made him sit in the silence to listen for the scratching. He (once again) convinced me that I was imagining things and I was freaking myself out. I didn't believe him but whatever. I agreed to try sleep.

A couple hours go by and I'm FINALLY drifting off to sleep.

That's when it happened. Andrew shot out of bed, flipped on the light and yelled at me to wake up!

"I heard it! Then I saw it! It's in our ROOM!!!"

WTF. NO. VACATE! VACATE! CALL 911 CALL THE MARINES CALL THE FBI CALL THE NINJA TURTLES JUST DO SOMETHING!!!!

The disgusting rat was in our room and it ATE THE DAMN CARPET under the door trying to get out. It ate the carpet. Like just ate a big chunk of it. This thing was taking no prisoners and it would stop at NOTHING to ruin my life.

So instinctively, I grabbed all my clothes and my daughter and got the heck out of there. Andrew grabbed a trap from downstairs, put it under our bed and shut the door. We stuffed a towel under the door to try to keep it from getting out. (Who were we kidding, it ate our carpet, it could easily mow through a rolled-up towel!) But it's all we had. This was war and we had to use what we could.

So we waited. We prayed. I cried. We waited some more.

And at 5 am it happened. It took the bait and got snapped in the trap. We heard it go off and we knew. We knew the battle was over. Well, we hoped it was.

I quickly volunteered my brave-yet-reluctant husband to inspect the damage. He cautiously opened the door and I heard him go,"HOLY CRAP. IT'S DEAD. AND ITS HUUUUUUGE."

...I'm going to spare you the details. Mostly because I can't even type this without gagging and I get shivers down my spine when I think about its tail. It must have been 10 feet long. I LITERALLY CANT EVEN. The important part is that it was dead.


So as it turns out, rats like palm trees. Which we have a ton of.  They also like open doors and opportunities to ruin people's lives and it took FULL advantage. Thank you JESUS that it was an isolated incident. Thank you JESUS for rat traps and poison. Thank you JESUS for wine so I can suppress these memories. 

I wanted to save the rat carcass and hang it on the tree as a warning to any other predators that may or may not be lurking around our home. Nobody else liked my idea, though. So it was disposed of properly.

So, there's my story. It took 3 professional couch cleanings, a carpet cleaning, a new rug, 5 billion gallons of bleach, and 3 weeks of healing to be able to share this with you guys. I hope none of you ever experience the horror of a rat getting in your house, but IF you do... Please don't call me because I don't want NOTHIN to do with it. I'll give you the number to our exterminator.