Summer days and nights bring out the outdoorsman in almost all of us, and a few brave souls actually answer the call by packing up their tents, sleeping bags, and marshmallows and heading for the nearest (or furthest) campground. What can we learn about marriage from these hardy souls? For 7 ways camping in the great outdoors is similar to the great adventure we call marriage, see my post here at Wedded Bliss.
photo credit: wildxplorer
Alright. Enough is enough.
One bat swooping through my room was bad. Another one, four nights later, is absolutely, ridiculously unreasonable.
And then my husband found this on the Internet:
If you wake up from sleeping and find a bat in your bedroom, it’s possible that you have been bitten and may not know it. Bats teeth are very small and razor sharp. You could be infected with rabies and need to see a doctor to receive a series of rabies vaccines immediately.
What?
I called our doctor to see how serious this Internet claim was and lo and behold, yep, we are indeed the lucky winners and all five of us were sent to the ER to receive a set of immune globulin shots and begin our series of rabies vaccines.
The first night: four shots each, one in both arms and one in both legs. My husband got a fifth bonus shot in the old gluteus maximus.
Good times.
We get another shot on day 3, then day 7, then day 14 after the initial dose. We’re all looking forward to these visits, as you can imagine. It’s adding a lot of fun to our summer. Also, my kids keep telling everyone we have rabies. We’re not getting many play date calls this week.
And yes, we did call the Bat B Gone Guy to help us sort the swoopers out. I don’t mind sharing my toys, but sharing my bedroom with a bat is taking generosity a bit too far.
And no, I’m not heading to the cottage this weekend. Chicago, here we come.
photo credit: bistrosavage
A short while ago, Mayberry Mom wrote a post asking whether her readers preferred old homes or new. Most people responded with a preference for older homes, with their character and uniqueness. A few preferred new construction, and some, like me, had mixed feelings. My response to Mayberry was basically this:
I love old homes, and when my first two kids were born we lived in a house built in 1908, with all of it’s character and inherent plumbing issues. When we moved, I had two kids under 3 and a husband who was starting a company and travelling regularly. I wasn’t up for a detached garage and dealing with leaks in the basement by myself. We bought a new house, and a few years later bought a summer cottage built in 1873. I love the character of the cottage but also the convenience (everything works!) of the new house. Pros and cons on both sides!
Since our cottage was built in 1873, it doesn’t have air conditioning. Most nights are cool, though, and there are only 2 or 3 days a summer when we feel downright steamy there. I’ve considered putting in an attic fan but haven’t ever gotten around to it. This summer has been rather cool and there hasn’t been much of a need. The nights, especially, are cool and breezy, those wonderful ones that beg you pull up an extra blanket and snuggle down into a cocoon of warmth.
Last Wednesday was a night like that. I woke up at 2:50 AM, chilly, and glanced at the clock. With hours to go until daybreak, I pulled myself out of bed and grabbed an extra comforter. Just as I settled into my cozy warm space, I felt a little flicker near my knee. Hmmm. Imagination? Wind? Then I felt it near my head! I screeched and dove under the covers, while my husband jumped up and battled the bat flying around our room. He did battle with his pillow, the brave soul.
It was hard to breathe under the covers, but I held them down tight, sure that if I didn’t, the bat would find the slightest opening and swoop in to join me. Soon the battle sounds ceased and I heard my husband express disgust. Mr. Bat had gone into hiding. He was suddenly gone, hiding somewhere IN MY BEDROOM.
I ran across the hall to the kids’ room, woke all three as gently as I could with the brief explanation, “We’re going downstairs to the guest room, boys. There’s a bat in mommy’s room.” The boys not only took this news in stride, but seemed to think it was good news. Exciting! How fun! A real bat!
Left alone to hunt down the bat, my husband finally found him, won the battle, boxed him up and took him outside. The boys settled down in sleeping bags on the guest room floor while the two of us sat there, wide awake, wondering what to do next.
Perhaps I’ll reconsider my answer to Mayberry Mom. And I definitely won’t be installing that attic fan myself.
photo credit: bistrosavage