As you've already seen, the posting is getting less and less as we race toward the baby arriving. We've got 9 days left of A & M, Isaac's birthday party the day after that and 11 days to baby. Wait is that correct? Yes, it is. Most days I feel great and still have tons of energy. Others, like today, I've been waiting to curl up into a ball and fall fast asleep since about, hmmm... 9 am? And truth be told, I didn't get up until 7:15. Yes, sounds about right. But instead, we've fed the masses pancakes, been to two baseball games and the husband has been studying for the last three hours or so. It's funny how life keeps rolling along.
Probably the biggest drama of the week has come in the form of these hideous creatures. For any of you who have an affinity for your friendly neighborhood rat, I do not understand you at all. We live in the country. So naturally, our house has always had a propensity for rodent problems. However, over the years, I've learned a few tricks of the trade to keeping them out of my house, one of them being a clean kitchen every night and food kept boxed up. If there's nothing for them to eat, they usually move on. We haven't had any major issues until about a year ago.
For some reason they've been worse over the last year and have done quite a bit of damage to our car's engine wiring twice, costing us a total of $1100. And this last week, they've decided to make their appearance again inside our house. So the last few nights, Steve has been playing the part of Superhero by catching and killing the nasty little varmints. With a baby on the way, our car's wiring being threatened again (we found their lovely droppings all over our engine cover) and our four little children sleeping peacefully right near the kitchen (where they usually enter the house), it's been war people. WAR! We even called in the big guns this time...a professional exterminator. But Steve has definitely been playing his part in the whole shenanigan by putting out traps at night and then if we get one, taking the creepy pest to task.
The scenario has gone something like this. Now, if you are an advocate for animal rights, I suggest you stop
Me (who isn't sleeping well anyway due to baby wedging himself in my ribs): Steve, Steve, I hear it.
Steve: What? What?
Me: It's another rat, I hear it. I think we got another one.
Steve (who was in deep sleep, suddenly comes alive and pulls on his clothes and shoes): It doesn't stand a chance.
And then there ensues some sort of exciting event like the rat running away with a glue trap stuck to its back while Steve corners it behind the couch, or something to that affect. I have found that once I hear the plastic bag being opened, that is the sign that Steve has successfully snuffed out its life and we're one rat down...probably many to go. Some are harder to get than others. However, I think last night it was an easy one. The rat was completely stuck and couldn't run away so Steve simply killed it and disposed of it, coming back to bed in an unusually quick fashion.
Once I'm sure he's washed his hands (ha!), I smother him in kisses and tell him what a true hunter he is. Like none I've ever seen. Yet all the while he's out stalking his prey, I just pray he doesn't get bit. That's the one thing about the glue traps by the way. The disgusting perpetrators are still alive when The Law comes and so somebody has to knock the suckers dead. However, with little kids around, glue traps are definitely the safer option. Anyhow, the story is usually summed up the next morning over the breakfast table as Steve retells the previous night's events in all its glory to the boys. It's amazing how easily they are entertained!
So that's what we've been doing here. Nothing too fancy. Steve's been studying 8-10 hours a day. I've been mostly fine with some excessively tired days in between and at night, we've been killing rats (Steve does the killing, I merely do the announcing). But like I said, we've got 9 days left of this semester, and 11 until the baby, with a birthday party smack dab in the middle. And the really good news is that I surprisingly don't have any signs whatsoever of
early labor. Rather simply the frequent and ever-increasing braxton
hicks contractions. So it looks like, at this point, I'm going to make
it. I keep telling myself, "I must make it past Steve's finals, I must!" I think if we can get a few more things ironed out, like me cleaning my fridge out, vacuuming the car out and finding all the baby stuff in the shed, and if Steve can finish up his classes well, then we'll be ready to go and take our babycation at the local hospital.
Until then we're makin' it.