Ratgate vol. 2


That is how much Ratgate is going to cost us.

Excuse me while I hyperventilate.

Merry. Fucking. Christmas.

I don’t even have a smartass, self-deprecating remark to make about this.


There’s a rat in my house and it has destroyed my oven.

I bought a new range today and the girl screwed up and now I have absolutely no idea when it will be delivered.

My existing range smells like rat pee and I want it gone but I am hesitant to move it outside because of the whole delivery issue above. To combat the smell, I am simmering lemongrass, lemon balm, rosemary, lemon, ginger, and cloves on the stove. I can still smell rat in my kitchen.

I feel disgusting being in my own home. I even paid someone to clean today for the first time ever and my house still feels gross to me because RAT.

I feel violated.

I have been sick for almost 4 weeks. I am so fucking tired of being sick.

My mom is seriously sick. She has the same thing I do but her body is not handling it well and I’m so worried about her. I stopped by today and she couldn’t even open her eyes to talk to me. She saw he doctor yesterday but she’s worse today. I have serious fears about losing my mom (leftover from childhood–not entirely rational, but how many emotional things really are?) and this shit just rattles me.

I kicked Catch and Charlotte out for a few days so I could get some rest but instead I am here dealing with Ratgate.

Exterminators can’t get here until Monday morning.

We are missing a family Christmas celebration tomorrow due to my illness and I am seriously bummed. But I can’t be around my medically fragile grandmother when I’m sick.

I really just want to cry but I’m too fucking tired and I need that energy to continue battling Ratgate.


Look at my beautiful asshole of a two year old? Isn’t she perfect?


I don’t know where it came from, but I have started sewing. It happened suddenly. I bought some fabric from the craft store because Charlotte loved it so much. I made a blanket. Then a pillowcase. Then a skirt. And another skirt. And some cloth napkins. And flannel pajama pants…

It’s like–a thing now. The sewing machine is living on the dining room table and Catch has even stopped giving me dirty looks about it.

Writing used to be an important outlet for me, but lately I’m getting more satisfaction from making things. I even made a really cool banner for mini’s preschool teacher’s baby shower and it felt so good afterward.

I’ve been sick for a few weeks. Long story, but basically kid germs are working their magic on me. I’ve been miserable enough that I’ve seen the doctor three times, which is pretty unheard of for me. This endless sickness is really taking a toll on me. I’ve been so short with Charlotte. My patience is nonexistent. This morning I was alone with her and fell asleep sitting on the couch holding my coffee. I woke up when she ran over to me to tell me that it’s really cold outside and she needs her jacket. She had crawled through the doggie door and was completely alone in the back yard at 6:30am. In her pajamas. Without shoes. While I was asleep. When I told my doctor about that today she basically threw drugs at me. Let’s hope they work this time.

Hopefully a healthier me will be back soon to write some more. In the meantime, I’ll be sewing. And burning myself with the iron. And leaving pins on the couch that stab Catch in the butt when she sits down.

Hi! Remember me?

It’s been a while. I don’t really know what to make of that yet. I was just clearing some files off of my computer and I discovered a post I never posted. I wrote this in early October, so it’s outdated, but I’m going to put it up anyway because I want the record of it here. Hopefully I’ll be back soon. I feel like I have lots to talk about, but lately I just have no desire to write.


Since We Haven’t Touched Her Baby Book

We had to go to the discount day at a kids’ consignment sale on Sunday morning to pick up a few things for Catch’s aunt. As we were heading toward the line to check out, Charlotte spotted the little corner where all the stuffed animals are. “Ohhhh, MICKEY!!!” she yelled as she ran toward the bins. By the time I reached her, she had grabbed a large Mickey Mouse plush and had him wrapped in a bear hug. (Mouse hug?)

“Oh Mickey, I love you. You need a hug, Mickey? I love you so much. I give you a kiss, Mickey?”

Fortunately, Mickey was only $1.50, and although we have an IDENTICAL Mickey at home, I decided that avoiding a public meltdown was absolutely worth $1.50. For once, we did not have to listen to I Like to Move It on repeat for the whole drive home. She was completely occupied with her Mickey Mouse love fest. I wish it was a legit option to just pay $1.50 every time a meltdown is looming—like a get out of jail free card.

Last night, in lieu of us reading to her at bedtime, Charlotte opted read Corduroy’s Halloween to her new Mickey. “Look, Mickey—it’s a pumpkin!”

She’s been on a bit of a Beauty & the Beast kick lately. (Understatement.) This morning when we parked at her school I opened her car door and she looked at me and sang, “I WANT MUCH MORE THAN THIS PROVINCIAL LIFE!”

Um. Yeah. Me too, kid. Go learn something so your moms can live out their retirement years in the guest house of your mansion after you invent a reliable car engine fueled by hopes and dreams.

Sunday morning. 7 am. Charlotte wakes up. Catch gathers her from her crib, and I come in a few minutes later. Charlotte leans toward me for a hug and as I wrap her in my arms to say good morning, she says, “I need a cupcake.”

Have you ever seen a child try to tuck in their bath water? Last night in the tub, she was using a wash cloth as a blanket and tucking in the water. “Lie back now. I got you. It’s sleepy time. I tuck you in.” Water. Who knew?