Little mouse, little mouse, are you in the Pendleton house?

A little over a week ago I was up late reading a book when I heard a scratching sound coming from the wall. I ignored it at first, but as it continued my mind began to concoct all the things that could be making that sound. A giant roach? A rat? The ghost of a construction worker accidentally buried during the construction of our house? I finally concluded that it must be some kind of hideous rodent trying to make an entrance into our house. I gave the wall a pound and the scratching stopped. The next day I told Alex and he said that he had heard it that morning. He put out some traps with peanut butter for bait.

A few days later our pest control guy, Kevin, came for his monthly appointment. I told him about the rodent problem. He put out a box trap with bait in it.

"There's plenty of bait in there," he said.

So I said, "So the mouse eats the bait and gets poisoned then dies?"

"Right. So if you find a dead mouse just get a tissue and pick it up and throw it in the trash."

Gag.

Two days ago I was in the garage loading the kids in the car. Something, which looked like trash on the floor, caught my eye. Upon closer inspection I realized that it was a little brown mouse. Not a huge rat like I had envisioned; just a little, almost cute, brown mouse. It looked like it was sleeping.

I left with the kids to run errands and when we got back I showed them the mouse. Then I got some toilet paper and picked it up and put it in the trash. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but part of me felt bad for the mouse. It was just trying to find some food. It meant us no harm. So rest in peace, little mouse. Someday we'll have a world where we can coexist.

The Trip to Utah

On April 20th 2011 the Pendletons went to see Grate Grandma Haynes in St. George.But she was in Orem! Lance was really sad. We stayed overnight in a hotel. Our hotel room had a microwave and mini refrigerator. Alex said "Why don't we go fishing in Pine Valley. So we went to Pine Valley and went fishing and caught nothing. When we were done fishing we went to lunch at the Brandin' Iron Steakhouse in Pine Valley. Lance ordered grilled cheese with a side of fries and lemonade, Lacey and Luke got fries, Lia got a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Poppy got fried fish and a diet Coke, and Mommy got a club sandwich. Then we got ice cream for dessert. When were done we left and went to the car. We were driving and Lance sat next to Lia. Lance's seat was wet and Lance didn't know until he touched the back of his pants and it was wet. He played his Mario game and played Mario and Luigi "Bowser's Inside Story." Lance played it to get his mind off the wet. He played and thought he needed Kyle's (his cousin) help on a part. Back to the trip: It was a long drive. Lia spilled Gatorade all over the car. 42 minutes until we get home said Poppy. 40 minutes later we were at the Fiesta. When we got inside the gate everybody cheered. Lance was so relieved he could get out and stretch his back.
Written by Lance

It Was One of Those Sundays. . .

So yesterday I took the kids to church by myself because Alex wasn't feeling well. Usually when I'm by myself at church with the kids they are pretty well-behaved, sometimes even better than when Alex is there. But this was not one of those times. I made the mistake of letting Lance pick the seat. He chose the long middle bench, second from the front. Not that I mind the front, it's just easier to corral the kids if we are on a short bench. Also, Lacey hadn't come in with us because she had a boo-boo on her heel and just couldn't walk all that way. Then the freedom of a long bench was too much for an 18-month-old to resist. About two minutes into the first talk I had to leave with Lia because she was screaming because I wouldn't let her walk on the bench. We went out into the hall where I expected to find Lacey. Well she was wandering around the church--shoeless. Then Luke followed me out and he and Lacey proceeded to run through the semi-empty halls. We took a little break in the nursery, but about 15 minutes until the end of the meeting I said, "I came here to listen so we are going back in and you all had better be good." Yeah, right. We didn't make it another two minutes before we had to leave again. This time I was mad. I was mad at the kids for not being quiet. Mad at Lance for picking the front. And mad at Alex for not being there. I was "this close" to dishing out a helping of "butt-whoopin' soup" (as Alex likes to say) right there in the church.

When the meeting was finally over I was trying to gather up the remnants of our time there--fruit snack wrappers, crayons, paper, shoes--when the man who had been the last speaker (I didn't catch his name because we were out in the hall) tapped me on the shoulder and said, "I want to tell you that you are my hero. I watched you the whole time and I thought "How does she do it?" You really did a great job with those kids. I know it's not easy, but your children will be the recipient of your faith." By then I was sobbing, partly out of guilt for thoughts which had they been acted upon would have resulted in a meeting with child protective services, and partly because his words were so sympathetic and just what I needed to hear at that moment. I could only blubber out "Thank you. . . thank you."+


So the lessons I learned were if you see someone struggling with rowdy children in church, offering kind words might be the best thing you can do. and don't let your seven-year-old pick where you sit in church. :)