Sister/Mouse Help

I know this will shock no one, but my house is dirty. All of it.
This morning I felt like I was on the verge of a Housekeeping-Mothering-Christian Living Crisis.  I don't believe a clean house is a measure of one's Spirituality, but - for me - being surrounded by clutter and chaos is unnerving. It is hard to be a nice mother when my house is dirty. Being a nice mother is sort of a hallmark of following Jesus, isn't it?  I mean, if you are a mother. Non-mothers should be nice in their life calling, I guess.
Anyway. Verge of crisis.
I called my sister Amy to see if she could help me infuse my situation with humor and defuse my ever-shrinking temper.
She listened.
She sympathized.
She posted this video on my Facebook page.

I handed my phone to GBaby so she could watch it while I fixed her lunch.

Her siblings (well, the three that weren't laying on the couch all sick) crowded around her.

And I promptly stopped fixing lunch and grabbed my camera.

Because they are so cute. People that cute don't really need to eat, right?

I love her little hands. They may be almost two years old, but they're still baby hands to me.

This video clip was just what I needed. It felt so nice to have my sister acknowledge my good heart and over-worked status as family drudge.
I am obviously Cinderella.
I even have mice in my house.
Maybe if I started leaving little suits of clothing for them instead of traps they would be my friends.
Then they could sew pretty dresses in the attic while I'm busy fetching food for and cleaning up after my family.
I'd rather have them run the vacuum, but that might be more than their little mouse arms can handle.
Also, I wonder if they can be trained to sing in deeper voices.  I don't know if I can take much more squeakiness.

The Mice in the Attic -- Can You Believe It?

With help from Norah, age 5.

Once upon a time there was a mouse that lived in our attic toy room. His name was John-Nick. Can you believe it? He had a really big family. But they were hungry, because the only food in the attic was the plastic kind meant for the little kitchen play set. They tried to fill thier tummies with paper and crayons, because they were easier to chew. Can you believe it? Sometimes, one of the baby mice would try to eat the woolen blankets that are stored in the attic. But these really only made good food for moths, and Mrs. John-Nick told her babies that woolens are best intended as bedding for both man and beast. Can you believe that John-Nick and his family were not familiar with the living conditions of their cousins downstairs? It was probably for the best.

Leaving the Unwanted Company

Tonight, even my imagined readers have left me. For once, I do not mind. Really, I am in the mood for solitude. If I do write anything of import, I want to type my incoherent feelings unencumbered by who might see them. I want to use long run-on sentences and the backspace button at will. Writing within this battle of disgruntled and reflective thoughts is time- and energy consuming for me. It calls for a snack and a cup of coffee nearby.

This is not a good time or place to have any crumb-bequeathing edibles nearby. As long as I may be at this, I fear my typing is not loud enough to scare away the mouse that seems to have taken up residence beneath the computer desk. The tiny little scratches upon the wooden floor (or is that a miniature mouth chewing on a stack of printer paper?) are about to drive me to bed. Since I don't have a laptop of my own, and my mind and emotions are a thick mushy glop of unsortableness, I will go to bed at this ridiculously early hour with the Archbold Community Library's latest selection from Alexander McCall Smith. If anyone out there is reading my words, please stop and go find one of his books. If you're disappointed in it, please let me know so that I can straighten you out.
Maybe over that snack and cup of coffee.
In another room of this old, hole-riddled house.