It is the feast of St. Nicholas, for another hour anyway. A day when we pour over the St. Nicholas Center's craft and baking ideas, tell stories, and of course wake up to shoes filled with small treats from the good bishop.  You might remember when we did this last year?  (found an old St Nick study I wrote here if you are interested)

This year finds us in a new home, in a new country.  Our wooden shoes were noplace to be found as evening approached yesterday.  "Does anyone remember unpacking the wooden shoes?"  "Have we seen them in this house?"  We could honestly not recall. I had been prepared for this night, more than usual anyway.  My husband had left some days earlier for a work class and I had put on my best military wife game face, determined to carry on in his absence.  This week would be a breeze.  Only one feast day this week and hadn't I picked up the coins already anyway? Oranges?  Check. 

But those shoes.  Darn it. 

So we started digging through some storage boxes and the Christmas boxes we had begun to bring up from the cellar.  Shortly afterwards came a shriek from the upstairs.  MOUSE!  I cringed downstairs.  No traps, no cat, no husband to tag, no escaping this one.  What followed was a comedy of errors.  It's a long story.  I will just paste some of the FB conversation and chat with my husband…

ME: there is a MOUSE in my room, husband.
Hellooooo!!!!??????!!!!!!! Get on a plane RIGHT now!

(that didn't work btw)

ME: I am hiding in the office on FB in deep deep denial that my husband is on another continent and there is a mouse in my bedroom. I have done what any reasonable woman would do – paid the 13yo to chase it out.

Moira:We're all gonna DIE!!!!!

Alannah: I'm with Moira on this one.

ME:  shuush. Let me think. of something….

Husband: A tennis racket? Stick peanut butter on Aidan's finger and get him with the pool net?

Alannah: Or we could skip all this drama and get a cat….  just an idea.

Me: seriously considered how much coaxing the stray I saw out on the road might need.

 (this after I locked the dogs in the room with it but they sat at the door and cried. Much like I did….)

ME: Much screaming commencing. Apparently there are two. Kangaroo Jumping Mice I am told. Someone is getting a box. Because apparently you can catch this variety at 1030pm with bare hands. I should SO have left the decorations for when the man got home…… (it appears as though we brought them in the house when we brought in the Christmas boxes)

(update here – no Kangaroo Mice in England, however the woodland mice DO jump and have the ability to shed their tails when the need arises.  Made a mental note not to have that need arise)

ME to husband: I am having flashbacks to getting the decorations out of the outdoor shed in San Antonio and finding the boxes all covered with snake skins. And the exterminator telling me that it was likely a rat snake, and I should be HAPPY to have it, and that it would only bite me "if startled."

(later)

Me: Abbie had a light saber, standing guard by her door. I said what are you doing? She said, I'm a 'inja.'

Colin (son #1 from CO): fwiw, dec. 5 is the day of the ninja. little known fact…

We then gave up. Abandoned my room altogether, knowing logically how unlikely it was they were staying in there, but still. I put the ninja, the mouse hunter and the rest of them to bed and camped on the couch rather fitfully while the Yorkie snoozed under the covers oblivious to the watch he was to be keeping.  Woke up in the night and my sleeping bag was dangling on the ground, where it occurred to me, a mouse could use it like an escalator.

  Bleck!!  

So needless to say St. Nicholas was a little traumatized by the whole ordeal and didn't make his Dec. 6th appointment.  I suggested we cut him a break and reboot his visit for tomorrow.  We cancelled regular school work and just regrouped.  We gave little people nice warm bubble baths. We gathered all the ingredients for the super sweet St. Nicholas cookies we'd pinned and spent a good long time supervising little hands assemble them.  
 
 

Does my heart good to hear that Montessori sigh.  I don't know if you have stopped to do that but it never fails, when a child is really swept up in an absorbing project, they begin to settle in and breathe really slowly and deeply as they concentrate with all their might. Love that. 

After their treats we began some art projects that aren't finished.  That's ok too. My goal is to just try to do something neat each day or so of Advent like the Austin Family. We will work on them tomorrow with hopes that on this night not a creature will be stirring.  Not even a mouse.  Most especially not a mouse.  Please, God. 

PS: I want to mention that I have been celebrating St. Nicholas with my children for a good couple decades.  I can count on one hand the years I have actually made a treat like this to go with. You will notice one big person was manning the camera and three teens were available – one for every under ten-er.  This was not reasonable to attempt when they were younger.  Moral of that story?  If all yours are wee bitty yet, you need not try this at home. I told a young mom friend earlier that if she had fed, clothed, and loved on her kids and her husband today, she rocked.  I meant it. This type of project is for other years. Years of emptier arms, which is not nearly so much fun.