My biggest fear, other than something happening to one of my children, is mice. I don’t care how many people tell me “They’re more afraid of you then you are of them!” LIES! I think it goes clear back to when I was a child and my parents and I used to live out in the woods in our camper for the entire summer. My dad was a real cowboy. He worked for a man who had cattle all over the countryside and his job was to round them up, count them and move them to different areas to graze. I had a horse named Midge that I would ride and help him. I was maybe 7 years old. This was in the days before cell phones and Ipods and video games. We actually lived in a camper. Not a big fancy 40′ motor home either. Just a little cab-over camper that my dad and uncle built onto a flat-bed truck. We bathed in the creek upstream from the cows. We cooked over the fire. We didn’t even have a bathroom, just a hole that my dad dug and put a wooden box over with a toilet seat on it. My city kids would never survive!Anyway, in our camper there was a drawer below the fridge. One day my mom and I were fixing lunch and when my mom pulled out that drawer a rodent jumped out and
tried to kill us scared us. It was probably Chip or Dale (Please tell me you know what I’m talking about?!?!) but I didn’t stick around to make friends. My mom screamed, I screamed, I’m pretty sure my horse even screamed!
That was the beginning of my completely rational fear of rodents.
I had a cat as a teenager and she loved to bring me presents. One time she came in the back door and when I saw what she had in her mouth I screamed, she dropped it, and it ran straight for me. It was still alive! I ran outside and refused to go back in until they found it and disposed of it. When Beauty was a baby I climbed over a bar to get to the phone to call my neighbor to come dispose of another of those “gifts”. When I was pregnant with MiniMe my roommate decided it would be a good idea to breed hamsters. Seriously??? And when MiniMe was born my sister-in-law decided that Beauty needed a pet. Wanna guess what it was? I’ll give you a clue. It wasn’t the puppy she had asked Santa for!
When MiniMe was about 6 months old we moved into a mobile home located near a big field. One evening after MiniMe was in bed and 6 year-old Beauty was in the bath, I was in the living room when I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a GINORMOUS mouse run across the floor and go behind the shoe box by the front door. I immediately started hyperventilating and tried to figure out how I was going to get myself out of this. Remember, 6 month-old MiniMe asleep for the night, 6 year-old Beauty in the tub? That’s important. So I very very carefully crawled over furniture to get to my phone to call my friend. The hamster breeder roommate I mentioned? Yeah, that’s who I was calling. She convinced me that all I needed to do was get a big bowl from the kitchen and move the box the nasty creature was hiding behind, throw the bowl on top, trapping him underneath. Want to guess how well that worked? I moved the box, the mouse ran, I screamed, threw the bowl and ran out the front door pulling it shut behind me. Now I’m standing on my front porch, in shorts and a tank top, no shoes, pouring down rain, holding the phone and listening to my so-called friends hysterical laughter. Some friend, right? So while I’m standing outside getting drenched, I hear Beauty yelling for me. I refused to go back in the house. In fact, I believe my exact words were “I am NOT going back in there, EVER!” Of course, my friend reminded me that my children were in there and I had to go back inside. My response? “Sorry, they’re on their own!” Yep, I was totally willing to leave my 6 month-old and my 6 year-old to fend for themselves as long as it ment I wouldn’t have to go back inside with the mouse that tried to kill me. After some coaxing, I finally agreed to go back inside and gather up the kids and clothes and head to the friend’s house. It was midnite by the time I got there. It’s not like we were neighbors. She lived a good 40 minutes away. I didn’t care. I wasn’t staying there! So the next day I got some traps and set them and promptly left the premises again. Well, we got that sucker but then I had to figure out how to get rid of the evidence. I mean sure, it was dead now but that doesn’t mean that my completely rational fear was any less! I wasn’t able to do it. I tried but as soon as it wiggled I screamed (do you see a pattern here?) and ran back outside. Lucky for me, Beauty came to the rescue. Yep, my 6 year-old daughter had to dispose of the mouse because her mother couldn’t do it. That was only the first of many times that Beauty saved the day. I had a mouse commit suicide in my bathtub. She had to get rid of that one too. Then there was the time about 5 years ago that she chased me to the neighbors driveway holding a dead mouse with my salad tongs! Yeah, those ended up in the trash.
I don’t care what anyone says. My fear of mice is completely rational and holding them and playing with them to “get over it” is NEVER going to happen!