Change of Plans

This morning I woke up thinking to myself, "Yeah! I'm going to have a laid back, do nothing day." I had managed to get all the laundry and dishes done yesterday so that I could finally have a Saturday not filled with that "stuff". My first plan was to make the boys pancakes and have a nice sit down breakfast. Ha Ha! Right.... they fortunately settled for cheerios and bananas since their sister Hadley was exercising her right as a baby to be fed immediately. No problem, cheerios it is.

As I was feeding Hadley and Jeff was getting ready to leave for an appointment I tried to think of something that I could do with the kids. Hmmm... a quick trip to the park. I could manage that by myself while we waited for Jeff to return.

Now, Jeff and I have learned that it is NEVER a good idea to announce plans until just shortly before we are to implement them. We do this because we have had too many incidents of a "change of plans" that are then followed by wailing meltdowns of disappointment and frustration. I felt safe though, this morning things were going good. The boys were fed, the girls were fed. All we had to do were slip on some shoes and head out. So, I made the announcement. The room was filled with screams of excitement and little bodies jumping up and down in anticipation.

Just as I had finished cleaning up the girls and helping Cyrus with his sandals, Jeff headed upstairs to grab his shoes and I headed to the garage to get the girls stroller. Suddenly I heard Jeff, with a sense of urgency in his voice, calling me upstairs. As a mom, when I hear someone scream the way he did, it seems as if a thousand horrific thoughts race through my mind within a millisecond.

As I ran from the kitchen to the stairs I looked to my left, all kids are accounted for, they're okay.
"Oh God. Something is horribly wrong with Jeff!", I thought to myself.
"Is he having a heart attack?" He's a little young, but it's not unheard of.
"Did he cut himself?" Why I thought that, I don't know. He was getting his shoes, they weren't glass slippers.
As I raced to the top of the stairs I saw him standing in the hall that leads to the boys rooms.

"I was just getting my shoes!", he yells. "What?!?!" I repeated. Next thing I know, I am yelling "What is it? WHAT IS IT?!?!" over and over and crying, my heart is now in my throat. Then he starts a nervous laugh. By now I was getting mad because he wouldn't answer me.
"There's a mouse." he calmly says with a smile, "I gotta go, but there's a mouse in the bathroom".
"How convenient.", I thought. I didn't know what to be mad about first. The fact that he was skipping off to his "massage" (aka chiropractor) and leaving me to deal with our fuzzy guest, or that for once I thought I was going to actually get to do what I had promised the kids, when I promised it and now I would have to disappoint them.

So, to make a long story short, after barricading the bathroom door and setting traps with peanut butter, we ended up waiting around for two hours for the Terminix guy to come, only for him to tell me, "Well, I can't catch it. Have you ever seen how fast those things move?". Yes, I have. That's why I called him. Isn't that his job? Apparently not so much.

No pancakes and now, no park. Fortunately, in all the excitement of having a furry "visitor", the boys forgot about the park and settled for a few runs and jumps through the sprinkler before lunch. There was no disappointment and no whining from the boys. I, however, am disappointed only in the fact that I have yet to hear a "snap", signaling that I can safely enter the barricaded bathroom with out running into Stuart Little.