Bird House Box

Occasionally, out of the blue, Josh will repeat "Bird!  House!  Box!".  It is with a fearful look and much drama that these words are repeated.  He looks over at me for reassurance and points to the kitchen.  He is clearly traumatized.  As was I.  I think all of us are traumatized.

I never knew that I feared birds.  But. I. do.  Apparently I fear them a lot.  I still feel shaky inside when I think about Bird House Box.

Across from our side door(if you live outside of Ohio read "back door") there is a HUGE vine.  It is on the side of our neighbors house.  It occupies dozens possibly hundreds of little birds.  They cheep and chatter all the time.  There is fluttering and a lot of fighting.  I've seen more than one wounded bird leaping away.  It is quite the hot spot.  Literally there is a vent or something that keeps it warm.

When Izzy was two weeks old and we were getting ready to go to the doctor for her check up, well that's when it happened.  Adam was helping me because I am a wuss and almost refuse to take Josh and another child anywhere.  Love that boy but he is a handful.

Adam came in through the side door when it made it's attack.  The bird flew right into my house.  My house with curtains, and couches, carpet, food, pictures, dishes, my BRAND NEW BABY, and my not so brand new BABY.

I hate bird poop.  Dad gets the 'cool' parking spot in Texas under the tree.  He also gets the bird poop.

After discovering that there was a bird in my house I screamed and screamed loud.  I screamed because I did not want to have disease icky bird poop in my house.  But also, a little part of my screamed because I swear the bird threatened me with its mind powers "I will pluck your eyes out and then poop on your babies!!!"

It then flew at me.  I swear.  In the kitchen it flew.  Around my food, my dishes, my sink that I clean and prepare my food around, my stove, my refrigerator.

By this time Adam, mountain man Adam, was there calm.  He said the bird had been in the house for a while and that he let it in.  Like it was a house cat we purchased together.  "It's just a bird.  I'll get it out in a little while.  Stop screaming."

Bird moved.  I screamed.  I panicked.  I hid my newest baby.  But my boy who I could not as easily hide I clutched to me.  Just like any momma bear would do.  I clutched and screamed.

He then screamed.  We screamed.  A lot.  I told Adam to get it with a box.

Adam realized that telling me to not scream wouldn't work.  We had to get the bird out.  I told him that I don't want any kind of bird in my house, including a dead one.  I said "Get a Box.  BOX BOX."

I was really scared.  It was flying around my kitchen.  Where I make food for my babies.


I thought I should help, should do something.  So I unclutched my son who then freaked out.  So I clutched him and screamed again.  It just felt right.  We found a box and threw it towards Adam who was in my wildlife preserve of a kitchen.

I tried so hard to help.  I got myself in the kitchen.  The terdy birdy was taunting me with its beady eyes and powers of flight.  It pooped.  Screaming lots of screaming.

Ultimately I tried to help but mostly damaged the hearing of my boys.  We ended up opening the window.  The bird did not fly out as hoped.  I tried desperately to help by shaking the curtains but was too scared by the pooping flying bird.

Hours later.  The open window trick.  Adam coaxing it alone.  Me in a corner clutching my babies.  praying.  Finally the bird, tossed out the window, flew away.

Josh is still pointing to the kitchen "Bird, House Box!"


Prologue.

I hate the birds that live in our neighbors vine.  The stupid icky pooping house invaders have not flown south for the winter.  I am terrified of leaving the side door open for any amount of time.  Why don't they fly south forever?  Why hasn't the freezing weather killed them?  Why don't they die?  I am severely temped to throw snowballs at the vine.  I've tried shouting "South! South!" at them but they ignore me. I hate them.  

Recipes

Here are some of my most recent yummy recipes.  That I love.

Portobello, broccoli, and red pepper melts

Broccoli Cheddar Soup

Parmesan crusted pork chops

There have to be more.  I tried, and failed, to make homemade rolls.  Rhodes are still the way for me to go.  For now.  I think they would turn out better if I had a handy dandy Kitchen Aid or some kind of sturdy stand mixer or a hand mixer that wasn't dying a slow smelly death...

Church and blogging wierdness.

I went to church for the first time since Izzy was born.  I blog stalked the ladies in our ward who have blogs.  It was a way to try and still feel connected and socially relevant.  The ironic part is that when I saw these people at church I realized that most of them don't have a clue about who I am, but scarier they have no idea what I know about them. 


I suddenly felt as though I were a peeping tom or participating in some form of voyeurism.  If I was a religious commenter maybe some of these feelings would go away, but I still think that I was feeling like my online 'community' was a sham.  Only one of these blogs has stirred me into an actual face to face friendship.

I often forget that these platforms are really just a jumping point.  After that you need to make the connection, the in the flesh connection.  I need that.  They need that.

I left church feeling socially wary and awkward as anyone who misses six consecutive weeks would feel.  Except I knew things about people.  Things they didn't know that I knew.

The weird thing is that when I hear that people I don't know or barely know read my blog it doesn't bother me. I don't feel like I am especially exposed or exploited.  I understand that this is a public blog and that people are going to read it.  They may gain a greater insight into who I am or they may misinterpret my tone or way of being.  They may feel like they know me well when they meet or observe me or they may feel like they misjudged who I was.

I touch blogging

I'm still trying to figure out how to blog on my I touch. If I could just post pictures I would almost never go into the basement/ice locker. It has snowed non stop for three days. I threw a full on throw myself on the floor temper tantrum complete with crying this morning. The sun came out for a few minutes but the snow did not stop.

On another note I've noticed that since giving birth my social skills have taken a dive right along with my house cleaning and domestic skills. If you ask me what time it is apparently I have an uncontrollable vomit of the brain and must disclose some long drawn out story or two before answering you question. I became aware of this only recently, and noticed the intensity just yesterday. So I am now aware.

Also I want to blog about the bird in the house.

This blog post randomness is just am example of the ramblings that surround a sleep deprived hormonal new mom of three.