Monday, August 29, 2011

Home Home On the Range

Yes, my daughter married this last July.  No, I wasn't happy about it.  Yes she is in another state.  No the there will not be any children ANY time soon...Yes I'm a mother-in-law and it's all over.  I miss her, I mope about it on occasion, but what can you do?  You can say, "Well, at least you have Kindsay for life!"  Thanks...
The hamster?  Who placed bets on when it would die?  Let's not be hasty, it's still early, and the conditions for him have worsened.  Allow me to fill you in. *sigh*
The boys are extra protective over Hank because they know it's their last shot at a pet. So when Kindsay has Hank, they panic, hover, and ultimately fight.  Kindsay isn't allowed to have Hank in her room alone, but every now and then I'll hear her giggling with hysteria and saying, "Oh Hank that tickles!"  at which point I go rescue the poor guy.  And once when Garon went to fetch him, Kindsay retrieved him from her bra.  That creeped us all out.  My response is always, "hey--I warned you!"  Goose bumps aside, Hank is well-loved.  Even by me.  Especially by Greg...and that's not a good thing.
So after running a bra labyrinth, getting kissed by Kindsay's reality version of "I will love you and squeeze you and call you George," and having to hear screaming children at a close enough range to deem him deaf, Hank began a mission of urgency to get the *bleep* out of his cage by chewing at all hours of the day on his cage walls.  This got Greg worried and he actually Googled "hamster chewing cage" only to find out it's normal.  Normalcy shmormalcy...that wasn't good enough for him.  Greg went out to the back yard and fashioned a west wing and a north wing for his cage and connected them with the plastic tubes it comes with.  Now Hank had more square footage than I did ratio-wise.  And yet, he still chewed...after giving him a chew carrot, after extending his home, after limiting Kindsay...hmm, this hamster wants OUT.  Hey you know how many times I've wanted to chew my way out of my house?  Do you know how many times I could've been the star of 127 Hours?  Buck up Hank!  Greg still worried constantly over Hank's happiness and decided to let him have MY HOUSE. 
Yes, Hank is a free-roaming house hamster.  He shows up where and when he wants.  He built a summer home under my kitchen sink with bits from his cage liner and food.  Every now and then I'll walk into a room and jump 50 feet because something scuttled by.  Hamster poop and pee?  No problem!  So we look infested with rodents.  So what if I might step on Hank in the dark and smoosh him to his death.  According to Greg "he'll die happy."  Ah me.  If you come over and find lanterns and flashlights in odd places, it's because my kids are constantly playing "Where In the World Is Hank Boden?"  I've finally given up.  I step lightly, I wave at him when he goes by, I lift my foot to let him through, etc.  Until Friday night.
This is long, but it's getting to the climactic part of the story, so keep your seatbelt on.
Fridays I'm exhausted.  Especially this past one because it was the first week back to teaching.  I came home dead, Greg even knew looking at me that I was worthless to him, so he planned on video games that night.  Needless to say, I went to bed early...8:30-ish.  I didn't fall asleep though.  I struggle to sleep, despite the heavy fatigue and throbbing headaches, but I was determined to stay in bed until morning so I laid there face down in the dark.  The kids are still on a summer schedule so going to bed earlier than 9:00 PM was a joke.  I could hear the boys in their room, next to mine, and they were once again responsible for a huge mess of hamster food on the ground.  Greg, my savvy shopper, went to buy me a vacuum for the house and came home with a John Deere-like shop vac that I SHOULD be able to drive around while I vacuum, but no...I lug it.  Hey-it was on sale!  Great.
The boys are getting their floor vacuumed...Kindsay is on some tirade that has become so normal for her that I'm researching group homes, and Greg is comfy in front of the tv playing the PS3....when
Screaming from Ty's lungs like never before, not even when Garon stabbed him with a shovel...Garon chimed in, then Kindsay joined once she entered their room.
HANK!!  Greg comes storming in, all of them are yelling like they are in a war zone and the enemies just killed the commander--absolute chaos chaos chaos.  They are all screaming at each other...What did you do?  I didn't do it!  I didn't know he was there! 
Ty yells at Greg something I didn't catch but I caught Greg's response..."Me calm down?  You're the one that vacuumed up a rodent!"  (why Hank was referred to as a rodent and not his third son is still a lingering question in my mind.)
Yes, folks, Friday night at my house is never dull, animals are always trying to escape, and I can't find a sleeping pill big enough to put me out of my misery.  Time to seek professional the meantime, I'm making me a summer home under the sink.
PS--Hank is alive and kicking.

1 comment:

Michelle said...

OH Yvette, I've missed you. Thank you for posting again and making me thank my lucky stars that I do not live in your house...ONLY You (on some serious drugs) could stand the described living scenario...If you make a home under the kitchen sink...make room for one more b/c Hank will undoubtedly crawl in there with you.