Yep. That’s right. I’ve actually reduced the content of my blog posts to updates on the status of my period. Damn, that’s sad.

She arrived late last night, which is always so shitty, isn’t it ladies? I used to be one of those people who could always catch her. She always knocked on the door first before throwing her shoes off and getting comfy with a bowl of Cheetos and a chocolate bar the size of my head. Not anymore. No… now she just throws the door open without so much as a tap, tap, tap and settles in for a good, long stay. I blame having children for my now horrific periods.

But don’t worry…I intend to take it out on everyone else, as usual. Ha.

And just in case Mona wasn’t enough to make me the uber bitch…

We have a mouse. That’s right. A little, brown, mother fucking mouse. I hate mice. Really, really, really hate mice. And this little mouse is trying to win me over by being fast and cute and SMART, but it ain’t gonna work! No way! Cuz I still scream like a little girl whenever I see that little fucker darting out from under the garage wall or the deep freeze in the breezeway while I’m trying to talk on the phone. Because I hate mice.

And this * is * a really smart mouse. His mother must have sent him to survival camp or something when he was a baby in an effort to avoid the fate of his ancestors who were too stupid to realize that the cheese was attached to metal and that it wasn’t just some friendly human taking pity on their disgusting, furry little selves by leaving them a treat. How do I know that this mouse is smart?

Well, here’s the thing…

I called Rock at work yesterday afternoon after I saw the little rodent AGAIN in the breezeway, running around like it was having the time of it’s little life. I stomped my foot a bunch of times to scare it back into it’s mouse hole. I needed to put laundry on the clothesline. I had to go outside. And it’s my fucking breezeway! But I digress….I phoned Rock to ask him how to set a mouse trap. And he stopped home to set one for me.

I felt all at once perfectly at ease about the mouse situation. No mouse has ever been able to resist the temptation of peanut butter on wood and metal.

And then I stepped outside and saw the little fucker RUNNING AROUND AND AROUND THE MOUSE TRAP! He didn’t even go near the thing! Just had a jolly good time running around in circles and peeking out at me every time I stopped shouting and stomping.

He still wasn’t caught this morning. Rock moved the trap somewhere after spying it doing the crazed “fuck you and your fucking peanut butter” dance this morning, himself.

I’m pretty much convinced that this mouse sits right outside the side door, just waiting for me to open it so that it can run inside and run around the house or something. I’m pretty sure that this mouse’s goal in life. To get into my house.

I also had a dream about the little brown rodent. I was sitting on the kitchen floor, right next to my cupboards under the sink. And I saw the mouse scurrying along the floor. Don was there with me, too. And I asked Don if I should get a cup to put over top of the mouse, to trap it, you know? Because in the dream, I was trying to be really, really grown up about the whole thing. I was being mature and not freaking out. Anyway, Don told me to get the cup. I don’t recall HIM offering to trap the mouse for me, now that I’m thinking about it. What an asshole. Well, a dream asshole.

ANYWAY…I was just about to reach out and slam the cup down on top of the scurrying mouse when the little beast ran up my pant leg!

I woke up literally shaking my legs violently and it took a while before I would put my feet down at the end of the bed.

Did I mention that I really hate mice?

I’d like to know why it is that when I actually have the car to myself to run around town and shop alone (well, almost alone…when I say alone I really mean that I’m without the children who actually * talk *. And point at stuff they want. And complain about how long it’s taking. And beg me for gum. And say they’re thirsty. But they hate water. And say they’re hungry. Even if we just had lunch. A shopping trip without my two girly sidekicks is as close to alone as I get these days…), the baby decides to outdo himself in the hateful department?! This happened the last time I actually had the car on a Friday afternoon. He was so fucking crabby that I spent most of the time driving around in circles to get him to fall asleep before we had to pick up Rock at work. And * then * when we arrived to pick Rock up, Rock informed me that he would just get a ride with another co-worker! So, I could have avoided the driving around in circles and could have just gone HOME!

Oh, wow. That was bitchy.

My point is that Michael is really crabby again this morning. Even more crabby than yesterday or last night. I think his teeth are bothering him. He’s a teething pro at this point. The kid cuts two or three at a time so it’s no wonder his gums are sore. I’ve lots count of how many teeth the little shit has now… maybe twelve or thirteen or something. It took the girls the better part of two years to reach that number! They were really slow teethers. And Michael hasn’t pooped in a while so I think his tummy is hurting a bit. And I have to take him out. Lord have mercy on my soul.

M’s visit yesterday was a pretty huge success. She was as excited as I’d ever seen her when she saw Michael crawl and pull up. It’s the best feeling in the world to have her rooting on our side. To have someone in our lives who really sees it all and understands it and never belittles me, only helps us. She is as happy as I am when Michael reaches a milestone and that’s always a wonderful feeling.

M also told me that nastiness or crabbiness when a baby with developmental delays is transitioning is really, really normal. Michael’s brain is about six months ahead of his body and the frustration that I’ve witnessed before when he’s getting ready to move onto a new level is ten fold when the skills are this advanced. She also said that with Michael, who is an “all or nothing” kind of kid, the anger and frustration stems also from not being able to do it all, all at once. As soon as he masters something, he wants to move onto the next skill and his frustration comes from not being able to do that. And his frustration is exhibited in complete and total fucking hatefulness! Ha!

Michael isn’t my only all or nothing boy.

And so, before I go and get started on the laundry and the dishes and the chores so that I can actually head out after Michael’s nap and breakfast, I’d like to ask all of you to stop by Don’s blog if you have the chance some time today. I don’t think he’s posted anything new but if you wouldn’t mind throwing him a cyber hug, I know he sure could use it. He’s had one fucking rough week.

And with that…

Happy Weekend, Everyone!