Grossed Out

I got home a few minutes ago and while I was taking my sleeping boy out of the car to put him down for a nap, my neighbor came over to share some news. I could tell by the look on his face it wasn't going to be good. He said he and my other neighbor were both outside and saw something that looked like a giant squirrel run out of my backyard and across the street to where he lives. When the thing got closer to his house they both realized it wasn't a squirrel but a huge rat. This is where the story takes a dire turn. The disgusting rat then turned around and ran back into my yard, under my car and disappeared.

My skin is crawling. There is a monster-sized rodent living in my yard, possibly my garage. My yard and garage that my two-year old plays in daily. HOURLY! I'm freaking just a bit. But it's totally justifiable. When we were living in our last apartment, I woke up one night to nurse Ben (he was still little) and on my way to the couch, I felt something soft brush against my BAREFOOT, so I kicked it out the way. At first I thought I'd just missed picking up all the toys the night before. But I don't forget to pick up toys. At least not the toys I know I could step on in the dark on my way to the couch. So I turned on the light and it was a DEAD MOUSE. I screamed bloody murder, naturally. I freaked both Ben and John out and both were extremely pissed. Ben was crying because I was crying and John was freaking because he thought Ben had died during the night or something. It was pretty bad. It still gives me nightmares.

But back to today. After I put Ben down I got online asap and told John. While I was talking to him, my active imagination really started to wander to where this monster's been and where in the yard he lives. I'm sure his fat ratty body has touched all of Ben's toys. And what if he can get into our house? We all sleep in the basement! What if in a few months I get up to nurse #2 and I sit on a squirrel-sized rat?! I told John this, but unfortunately, he wasn't feeling my horror. This was his exact quote: "There is no way there are rats in our house, you're just freaking out to freak out. You love that stuff."

Pretty sure I'm freaking out because I DON'T love that stuff. It's gross.

He assured me we'd find where the little sucker lives and then take care of him and his little ratty family (where there's a mama rat, baby rats are sure to be). Then he said, "There are rats all over sugarhouse if that makes you feel any better."

Um, no, John, that doesn't make me feel better. And then to add insult to injury, and because he can't resist grossing me out, he sent me this:



Why do bad rodents always happen to good people? I'm a really clean person! This should not keep happening to me. Rodents do not have a reason or my permission to be living in or on my property!

Married to the Mann

It's John and my sixth anniversary today. Yay us! To celebrate, I'd like to share a conversation we had late, late at night.


John: Do you ever feel like that transgender man that keeps having babies is stealing your thunder?

Me: No. Why would I think that?

John: Because he's not really a man. You are a Mann having a baby.

Me: (I stop to look at him. I see that he's dead serious. I start laughing really hard-it was VERY late at night.)

John: (Pauses to think.) You're not the first Mann to ever have a baby; there was my mom, and my grandma. But you're still a real Mann having a baby.



Here's hoping we have many more conversations that make absolutely no sense like this in the future. I love you, John Mann!

Where Is My Mind?

Do you think a two year old who can change his own poopy diaper is ready to be potty trained?

Why has my uterus been acting so messed up towards me? I have a uterus that doesn't like having anything inside of it. That was the official diagnosis my doctor gave me.

Speaking of uteruses, they have these new tests you can take starting at 24 weeks that will tell you if you'll be going into preterm labor within the next two weeks. Isn't that the craziest thing you've ever heard? I start the tests at my next appointment.

You know those woman who have terrible pregnancies and are either sick to death the whole time or are on bedrest the whole time, but they keep having kids anyway because pregnancy is temporary but kids last forever? I'm not one of those woman. Pretty sure I'm done after this.

I keep having sniper dreams. I'm usually at my parent's house in the dream and my dad is usually going after the bad guy in his undies. Obviously they're nightmares for more than one reason.

It's my anniversary on Friday (the big S-I-X). This year John gave me an envelope full of cash and told me it was my year to plan. He usually takes care of things and does a mighty fine job of it. I'm horrible at planning special occasions. We're gonna end up bowling, I just know it.

I stole an old lawn lounge chair from my mom's house with the intention of cutting a hole in the middle so I can lay on my stomach to tan this summer (swear on my life I didn't come up with that idea on my own). I just don't think I can bring myself to do it. Me, the girl born and raised as white trash as they come. But how else am I suppose to tan the back of my body?

I've got the restless legs. I think it's because my hips are starting to spread. Wonderful. I need to go walk around now.