PARTY ANIMALS

We took the plunge this weekend. After watching our cat Rudy staring listlessly out into the backyard where his beloved brother Oliver had been laid to rest last month, we decided to take in a new feline to keep him company. She arrived yesterday and spent the better part of the day hiding under armoires, sofas, in closets, anywhere that a human being or another animal couldn't find her. And Rudy - well he sensed something was up, so he pretty much decided to camp out in our room all day and all night long.

I wouldn't have minded having another member of our family bunking with us, except Rudy has this nasty habit of scratching the walls when he wants me to either feed him or take him somewhere in the house. And when the scratching commences at 5am on a Sunday morning after I've already had an exhausting week, well, I was not amused.

To add insult to injury, we started to hear other noises emanating from the walls. You see, I haven't shared a story yet with my fellow role mommies about the other creatures that have sought refuge somewhere in my bedroom. To put it simply, we have mice. At first we thought it was one mouse - in fact, we named him Maurice and after seeing "Flushed Away" in the movie theater, we figured we could co-exist with one harmless mouse. Except, we think Maurice is actually Mary and that little harpie has been copulating up in our attic and guess who gets the dubious distinction of having to climb up there tonight to change the air filter in our heater...you guessed it...moi.

But I digress. So Rudy is busy scratching the walls, while Maurice (or Mary) and her gang of rodent relatives are somewhere nearby having a dance party in my attic and then I hear a loud bellow. "MOMMY...come and get me." Right on cue.

My son, of course had to get up and join our pre-dawn party so I nudged Darin to go grab him as I tried to shove the covers over my head and catch a few more zzzz's. No such luck - Rudy was on the warpath and the moment he saw an opening, he'd climb on top of my head and scratch the wall above me. It's a truly lovely sound - like nails on a blackboard - the perfect noise to put you back to sleep...not.

I finally had enough and attempted to walk Rudy downstairs thinking he wanted some food. After filling his bowl, I ran back upstairs and that cat was on me like white on rice. He was petrified to stay downstairs for fear he'd risk a run-in with our new house guest - a timid gray cat that we've decided to call Gracie.

After I tip-toed back into my bedroom, sure enough, Rebecca was awake. "Mommy, I'm freezing." I know she was hoping I'd let her climb into our Queen sized bed along with the cat, Dylan and Darin - who had actually left the room and placed tissue paper in his ears so he wouldn't hear the mice, but I made Rebecca stay in bed, tucked her under the covers and she at least went back to sleep.

I don't really remember at that point if I finally did drift off again because before I turned around, the alarm clock started buzzing since Darin had to go to his early morning basketball game. And so, I groggily pulled myself out of bed, got Rebecca ready for Hebrew school, Dylan all set for a birthday pajama party, rushed with them both to the supermarket to get a challah (it was our turn to bring the bread this week) and then made it to Dunkin Donuts for a coffee and some donuts for the kids.

Fast forward through the rest of the day (Hebrew school, ice skating lessons, a McDonald's run, a much-needed trek to the supermarket and dinner and dessert served) and now, it's 8:07 pm and I'm hoping that tonight I'll finally get a good night's sleep. But somehow I highly doubt that the party animals in my attic and the scratching fiend who won't leave my bedroom will give me the rest I'm longing for.

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The Waiting Game

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Why is it that wherever I venture out to run errands, be on time for a meeting or dine with my family, I am always forced to wait? Waiting for a table at a crowded restaurant, waiting at the bank, waiting for the door to pre-school to open. I'm really getting tired of the waiting game. I know I've already gone undercover at restaurants sharing how we are completely ignored by the waitstaff whenever we're ready to place an order. But this week pretty much took the cake.

You see, this past Friday, I had an important meeting that I couldn't be late for and when I arrived 20 minutes early at the security desk, the lethargic, and I mean slow as molasses security staff decided to pull a doozy on me.

"You're not in the system so you can't go upstairs," one of the guards announced.

"Well I have the phone number for my contact, can't you just call her and let me up?"

"I called her. She's not there."

"But I need to get up there."

"That's not my problem," was the response and then she rolled her eyes at me and looked at her partners in security crime and made me wait at least another 10 minutes before she finally gave me access to the building.

Honestly, did I look like a threat or something...watch out for that 5 foot chick with the menacing handbag - or was she just purposely being extra slow just to push my buttons?

One day, I'd love to figure out how to turn the tables on the people who have made me wait. So watch out lazy security guard, new Starbucks employee, hostess at that Chinese restaurant in Boynton, teller at the bank in midtown, I'm still working out the kinks, but somehow you're all going to find out what it's like to wait...and trust me, you won't like it either!