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Yeah, a mouse!
EEEK! A mouse!
In MY house!!!!!!

And, where is my cat??
Obviously, she has slid into retirement.
Which means, apparently, we have a mouse…but you know that means plural (shudder) mice.
For the first time in the FIFTEEN years of living in this old crazy house, we have mice. Okay, for the first time that I’m aware of it.  But still.

And, while I didn’t really realize this (Bringing to life the old adage: “You learn something new every day”) I HATE mice.
By which I mean, they kind of freak me out.
Or, as my daughter Hannah put it after seeing me yelp and sort of leap into the kitchen and up onto the counter after finding said mouse as I cleaned my pantry (due to mouse)…”Mom! You’re such a girl!“
Well.  Yeah.  Seems so.
So I handed her the trash bag and scooted her backside in to finish cleaning the pantry.
No. I didn’t, but I should have!
I did threw the cat in there though as I went to Lowe’s to get supplies.
Yeah….now we’re talking.
I didn’t even think I’d need the supplies after throwing the cat in there.
She’s a hunter! She’s brought me all sorts of disgusting trophies over the years: birds snakes rabbits mice squirrels even.
So. I knew, that mouse was toast.
And sure enough, upon arriving home from the store, loaded for bear..erm, mouse…the girls told me with urgency how they heard a clatter and even maybe significant dying mouse noise.
As I opened the door ever so carefully, bracing myself for the awful sight….my old cat sauntered out and I peeked gingerly in. 
Nothing.
Let me repeat that: NOTHING!
Now, my pantry is not a big place. It’s a glorified closet.  It was empty because all of it’s prior contents were at this point either in trash bags or sitting on my kitchen counter and floors.
Let me repeat that: EMPTY!
No holes that a mouse can run out, nowhere to hide.
What gives?

Well, at this point, we could only figure that somehow this cartoon ninja mouse somehow scampered past my slacker cat and under the pantry door…..wait for it….into my HOUSE!

So. Now the mouse is in my house.
But I kind of put it aside, trying to not worry, finished cleaning and waited for the uber mouse traps that Tom had ordered (knowing my freaked out status)  to arrive. 

Until this morning.
I was up early, starting the laundry.
My laundry room is UPSTAIRS.
And as I pulled a rolling bin of laundry toward me, out runs THE MOUSE!!!
It’s not even seven a.m., people!!!
This is far far too early for mouse sighting!
This is my laundry room, one could argue, the cleanest place in the house.
Nowhere near food or any good mousy treats.
EXCEPT MY INNOCENTLY SLEEPING CHILDREN.

That’s it.
Game on.
I may have ninja cartoon mice. 
My sweet, grounded forever (he’s 20, I know, but still, he’s grounded, I can still do that, right?) son Chris sent me this link on facebook :

Because his sick twisted sense of humor {Yeah, I know, he seems like such a nice boy too…Now you know}is getting a kick out of his mom’s new war and her underlying horror at all this, um…mouse business.

So,  back to this morning: I immediately swept sweet toddling waking Gabey up in my arms and took him, pj’s and all back to Lowes, right then, before seven this morning. 
And we loaded up on mouse traps and every single mouse deterrent that won’t poison my kids (and/or let the nasty rodent crawl off and die to stink up my house forever) that Lowe’s had.  Yeah, I got a raised eyebrow from the checkout lady.  Yeah, I said, “I know.”  She just nodded. Because she gets it (no Chris not because I scared her, and  you’re still grounded).
NO mouse is welcome in my house.
They are not cute little cuddly fluffs.
They are disease ridden vermin and don’t flame me  you PETA folks but they are NOT welcome in my house with my kids who like to have sib sleepovers on their floors. 
So, yeah,  I’m on the warpath and I’m not gonna be happy until I win.

And Tom may not realize it yet, but we are this close to getting a new kitten (Em’s already making plans); we need new troops as our current cat has obviously gone into retirement and her own personal feline Boca Raton.

Tom’s order arrived today. It improved my mood a bit.
I know, I know…I look scary.  Good.  I’ll show my Hannah how to be a girl.  Here’s my new motto: “Don’t get scared, get tough.”
Bring it.
I hate mice.