And the Gross Continues

So, a few months ago, my husband and I saw a few moths flying around our house. We thought hmmm one of the kids left the back door open again and some moths got in. 

Some time later, we noticed even more moths. Again we thought, We need to stay on those kids about leaving the back door open!

Finally, we saw enough moths and…evidence of other life cycles (ew!!) that we thought, Okay, this is a different sorta problem.

So, we cleaned our kitchen, threw out some expired food, sprayed some bug killer around the house, wiped everything down and called it done.

It was better, but it certainly wasn’t done.

Occasionally, we’d still see a stray moth here and there. And, then – wham – they were everywhere again and we were right back where we started.

My husband would go on these murderous killing sprees, stalking them through the house and killing them one by one. We thought that would do it.

It didn’t.

We tried some traps.

That didn’t work.

Nothing seemed to really be doing it!

Finally, I had a meltdown about it and called the exterminator. By my description, he confirmed over the phone that we didn’t have a “moths getting into the house” problem but something called an Indian Meal Moth problem. And, on the spectrum of pest problems, this one, in particular, is a doozy, ranking just below rodents and roaches. (gag!!)

Indian Meal Moths usually come into your house via food, particularly pet food (guilty, we have a lot of that!). They multiply quickly and thrive in the temperature-controlled environment of your home. They live on your pantry items and they can get into anything and everything. Even brand new bags of food can become infested!  They prefer to take up residence in your kitchen, but they can go anywhere and, most importantly, they can breed anywhere.

Gross. Gross. Double gross.

Yesterday, I spent the entire day pulling everything out of my cabinets, throwing food away, wiping down surfaces, washing dishes, killing moths (and others of their life cycle *cringe!*) and basically gagging and freaking out.

I don’t do bugs.

I especially don’t do bugs in our family’s food!

The exterminator came today. We were moving furniture, emptying more cabinets and basically tearing the place up. He’s given me strict instructions on how to proceed and assured me it will take weeks – WEEKS! – to entirely eradicate them.

I am mortified.

All of this was going on right under my nose. I didn’t have a clue what real problems were lurking behind “just a few moths flying around.”

I’ve had time to think as I’ve scrubbed and cried over my kitchen.

These moths are kinda like a lot of problems in my life. I ignore them, they get worse. I minimize them, they get worse. I “sorta” address them, but not completely, and they get worse.

Sometimes, you have to peel back what’s going on in your life, peek beneath the surface and soak that sucker in bug poison, respectively.

I have thrown so much out this week. Yes, almost all our food, which hurt because… that’s money! But, also, just a lot of crap. We’ve accumulated so much crap! I didn’t even know we had all this crap!

Well, no more!

After these moths are gone, I’m going to begin closely examining everything in our lives, not just physical things, like overstuffed cabinets of crap, but also the deeper things, like anxiety, and my self-image, and my job and my future and my relationships. I want the clutter out. I want what’s corrupted out.

It’s a hard lesson to learn. And, I’m not yet happy about it. But, I think I will be. Someday.

Things That Make Me Heave

There’s never a boring moment around here.

Yesterday, our senior Golden Retriever was extra whiny. She seemed to want water. My husband gave her a full bowl. Not knowing he’d already supplied her, I gave her another full bowl. A few hours later, my littlest gave her another full bowl and shut her in the laundry room, which is her little space in our hectic house.

Immediately after lunch, I heard her whining in the laundry room and thought she might need to go out. Um, no. She’d puked allllllllll ooooooovvvvveeeer.

No puke is good puke. Dog puke is particularly bad. There’s no way to direct it to a toilet or a bowl. And, our pup is basically a canine vacuum, snuffling up whatever she can kind find on the floor. (Might be why she’s sick??) Needless to say, objects identified or unidentified in dog vomit aren’t very pleasant.

While I was attending to our sick dog and cleaning up copious amounts of hellacious fluids, my littlest went to the bathroom. I think she must’ve had a little problem, which she tried to clean up herself, making it a HUGE problem… of the poop variety.

I had just walked out of the laundry room, anxious to jump in the shower, when I heard her wee voice yelling, “Mooooooommmmmmyyy” from her bathroom.

Dry heave city. Let me tell you.

KJ came home from lunch to find the washer and dryer going, another mountain of disgustingly dirty clothes waiting their turn by the washer and me lying prostrate and nauseous on the couch.

It took me two hours of recovery time and several White Barn candles before I felt semi-normal again.

That was yesterday.

Today’s challenge is to get H. and A. through two separate dentist appointments without tranquilizers. Already, it is HIGH drama over here.

PS – if they can’t have sedation, can I get some?

i probably should have mentioned

we are mormon.

is that so very strange in today’s world?

you’d be surprised how many gasps that statement generates in mixed company.

even today.

even after target and their bathroom scandal. even after #blacklivesmatter and #bluelivesmatter and #alllivesmatter. even after freakin’ donald trump became the gop nominee and freakin’ hrc got away with all kinds of nonsense. do.not.get.me.started.

yet, being a mormon is still shocking.

{i promise, it’s going to be okay. we’ll get through this together.}

i say this because, we literally go to church every single sunday. unless we’re sick or unless i literally can’t even with the kids. but, most of the time, we’re there.

my middle child and only boy – H. – forever entertains me by his deep and abiding affection for church girls. sure, every girl he meets is worthy of his flirtation. but, he particularly loves church girls because they look so darling on the sabbath with their pretty braids and pretty dresses and coquettish little grins.

last sunday, i was in the mother’s lounge with my youngest – A. – a three-year-old heathen who refused to be even the teeniest bit quiet during sacrament. whilst i was whispering stern warnings through gritted teeth into her precious little ears, H. was dictating love notes to his older sister and then passing them to little blondie in the pew ahead of us.

the source of his affections had the misfortune of being attacked by a nest of wasps the day prior and had a swollen, red face of lumps to show for it. to my four-year-old romeo, this was the ultimate feat of bravery, and made her all the more worthy of his love.

at the end of church, as we were attempting to exit, he hurriedly shouted one last request of his beloved.

“leighton, i love you! will you come sleep over at my house?”

now, certainly this was an unreasonable request. certainly, it was so unreasonable that i immediately covered my mouth to hide whatever expression had landed there (embarrassment? amusement?). but, that wasn’t even the worst of it.

my boy’s greatest failing?

her name is not leighton.

leighton is another girl he sometimes loves in his primary class.

the mistake proved fatal.

he was rebuffed by his true love and snickered at by his true love’s grandmother. (“wow, how many girlfriends do you have?”) it was a hard lesson to learn for a four-year-old.

sometimes a rose by any other name is decidedly not just as sweet.