Gone Batty (Part 2)

When we pulled in to the driveway of Wyn’s Cape Cod style house you could have never guessed the turmoil going on inside. The lights let off a soft yellow glow, the front porch light was one awaiting our arrival, and it was drizzling ever-so-softly one of those summer rains.

We walked in the front door, removed our shoes, and Jack got right to work. He had grabbed a little flashlight before we left (the only tool a REAL bat-hunter needs apparently) and without a word started peering behind wall-hangings and large pieces of furniture.

Wyn frantically reenacted the entire episode that had gone on earlier. She was even scuttling around the living room with the blanket over her head and swinging things around to give Jack the full-flavor of what it was like and to ensure him that she had done everything she could before calling him. He went on about his hunt.

I sat down on the edge of the sofa to avoid getting in the way. Plus I figured this was a good seat to make a straight bee-line for the door at the first inclination that the winged rodent was still in the house.

Jack made his way through the kitchen, dining room, and the living room. He returned to ask questions like “Was the basement door open?”

He disappeared into the basement.

Wyn and I remained in the living room. I tried to calm her down, but I’m really not much help. Seriously, I would have moved out and let the bat have my home.

Jack returned and informed Wyn that he didn’t find anything. He said he looked for holes near the foundation where it could have come in from. He said there was one small hole (perhaps near the furnace), but he didn’t think it was big enough.

**FUN BAT FACT #1 – Bats can enter your homes through openings as small as a quarter.

Wyn seemed a bit surprised (and more than a little disgusted) that there was any type of opening in her basement where things could come and go as they pleased.

**FUN BAT FACT #2 – It takes Wyn less than 24 hours to fill ANY holes in her foundation after a bat attack.

Jack then asked if the bathroom or any of the bedroom doors were open at the time of “the incident”. It turns out that the only door down the hall the bat could have escaped to was Wyn’s bedroom (where her three year-old was sleeping soundly).

Jack retreated down the hall.

Wyn was all, “You don’t think it went in there with my daughter, do you?” “Seriously, how gross would it be if it was in there!”

Jack walks back into the living room. “Do you have any old towel?”

“WHAT?! Seriously?! Did you find it?!”

Wyn was horrified. I hid my head under my arms (like that would solve anything).

Jack remained calm (and a little annoyed). “Yes, I found it. Do you have an old towel?”

“WHERE IS IT?! You didn’t find it on my kid?!”

“No. It’s not on your kid. It’s behind the curtain on the window. Now, do you have an old towel?”

Wyn got up and handed him something. I’m not really sure. I think it was a towel. Or maybe she just pointed Jack in the direction of the towel. I really wasn’t paying attention as I was estimating the exact amount of time it would take me to leave my seat and make it back to the truck.

Jack retreated to the bedroom. We hear him moving things. Wyn and I look at each other with a look of “Holy CRAP!” in your eyes. Then nothing.

“What do you think is going on back there?”

“I dunno.”

More silence.

THEN, we hear this shrill quick chirping noise that seemed to last FOREVER! Wyn and I look at each other mortified and then both duck – me under my arms again, Wyn under the trusty blanket she hasn’t let out of her grips since the first sighting.

**FUN BAT FACT #3 – Bats let out that shrill chirping noise to warn other bats of the impending danger.

More shuffling noises.

More silence.

I kept my eyes locked on Wyn who had her eyes locked on the doorway behind me. Suddenly, they widened and I froze. Jack came walking in the room holding the towel and walked over to the door where he was going to release the intruder back into the wild. Apparently he thought it was going to be complete acceptable to throw open the front door and let it fly to freedom.

“WAIT! NO! Please take it over to the neighbors or over to the park. PLEASE don’t let it go in my yard.”

“Are you serious?”

“COMPLETELY! PLEASE!”

Jack looks out into the darkness that’s still drizzling. He’s still holding this live animal and trying to slip his shoes on. Keep in mind, neither Wyn nor I jump up at this point to offer him a hand. He successfully gets his shoes on and disappears into the night.

“I can’t believe it was in there with my kid. Am I a bad mom if I leave here in there and sleep out here tonight?”

Jack returns.

“Don’t worry. I walked it to the other side of the park and let it go. It flew off to the north.”

“I take back all the mean things I ever said about you. UH PICK UP THAT TOWEL AND TAKE IT WITH YOU! DON’T LEAVE IT THERE. PICK IT UP!”

“It’s just a towel. Throw it in the washing machine. It’s perfectly fine.”

“NO. You asked me for an old towel. I gave you an old towel. I don’t want it back. Throw it away or take it with you, but I don’t want it in my house!”

Jack has known Wyn long enough to know not to argue. It was also 11:30 and he just wanted to go home and go back to bed. He snatched the towel up off the floor and looked at me as if to say “Let’s go”.

“Seriously, thanks, soooo much. You really don’t know how much I appreciate this! Lance owes you BIG time.”

Jack threw the bat towel in the back of Lance’s truck and with a smirk on his face we headed home.

I don’t think Jack will EVER understand us, but at least he’s willing to humor us. Do you think he knew we were a two-for-one deal?

You might be a member of my family if…

your semi-juvenile delinquent sons goes away to school, moves back in with your mother (who lives RIGHT next door), and shoots fireworks at your house with his friends!

AND

two weeks later it’s still sticking out of your house!

 

AND

then someone crawls up there, not to remove it from your siding, but to snap pictures, and do this!

I wonder if the trailer park neighbors think we’re white trash.

Gone Batty (Part 1)

So one evening while the two little ones were spending quality time with the MN state bird (the mosquito) and #1 was camping with the neighbors, Jack and I were enjoying some peaceful time home alone, sleeping. When the phone rang. Still slightly conscious I hollered at my hubby who had just entered the first 10 minutes of REM sleep (or is it non-REM sleep? I really did pay too much for that psychology class I slept through). I was sure it was my sister calling from and ER (my kids are more accident-prone than normal children), or worse yet, someone had surely died. Who calls at 11 o’clock with good news?

He groggily tossed the phone at me.

“Hello?”

“Tina, I’m freaking out and I don’t know what to do!”

“Wyn?”

“I thought there was a bird in my house, but it may have been a bat. It’s probably a bat, but I’m going with bird so I don’t totally flip out. I tried to prop open the door and chase it out of the house with  the broom, but I had a blanket over my head and didn’t actually see it leave the house. I’ve checked everywhere, twice, and can’t find anything, but I’m totally freaked out it’s still in my house. Lance is gone fishing. What should I do?”

“Leave. Move out.” (Helpful, right?)

“Would Jack come over and see if he can find it? Seriously, I’m not going to be able to sleep. I was going to go get one of the neighbors, but all their lights are off. I don’t want to wake them. Will Jack come over? I would REALLY appreciate it.”

Now, my friend, Wyn, has always been this level-headed strong woman. She lived by herself long enough to deal with all sorts of things I’ve never had to. She can re-glaze a storm window and isn’t afraid to tackle most home improvement projects on her own. However, the sheer terror in her voice made it completely obvious that she was not kidding.

So, I took my life in my own hands…

“Hey, Jack, you want to go bat hunting at Wyn’s?”

“WHAT?! NOW?! ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”

I knew he wouldn’t be crazy about being woken for such a “frivolous” girl issue. He would have rolled over and gone back to sleep if it were his house (and I wasn’t home because I guarantee you I would have been plastered all over his head until he got up and dealt with it and then I would have spent the next 3 nights at the local hotel).

He got out of bed (more than reluctantly) and put his shoes on.

“Do you want me to come?”

“WANT you to come? No, I can do this all by myself. If YOU want to come, get your shoes on and get in the truck.”

As freaked out as I was by the idea of a flying rodent, there was no way I was going to miss out on an opportunity to see Wyn at her finest!

The 3 mile drive to her house was quiet. It was rainy and Jack was tired. I’ve known him long enough to keep my mouth shut even though all I wanted to do was freak out!

Who’s Big Chicken?

I sent the two little ones to my sister’s house in Minnesota for a week. While they were visiting they went up to the cabin near the boundary waters to spend some time with Mother Nature.

Along with getting to participate in an outhouse beautification project (yes, I said outhouse – and I will not be visiting the cabin any time in the near future),

dressing up in festive 4th of July costumes and parading around town (Teresa, Curt, Henry, and the girls took 2nd place – #2 got her grubs on that medallion and wasn’t giving it up!),

and spending #3’s 9th birthday away from her parents,

my children have come home with a new vocabulary.

I don’t mean that in a negative way, but #1 has started to pick up on it.

Here’s what I’m dealing with..

“I’m not sayin’. I’m just sayin’. Ya’ know what I’m sayin’?”

“I hear ya’ cluckin’, Big Chicken!”

Any ideas how many times one can hear that in the course of a day before she starts researching boarding school options? Answer: 537

I love my sister to death. I just hope she’s prepared for retaliation when she sends the Henster to Camp Cronin over Christmas break this year. (Consider yourself warned!)