lions, tigers, bears and weasels. Oh, my!

I consider myself a north woods girl capable of all sorts of outdoorsy tasks (for example, cleaning and cooking a variety of wild game and kayaking through a creek choked with weeds because of a beaver dam).  However, last year on Mother's Day, which is the one day I am supposed to get to sleep in I get awoken at 5 am not by my 4 year old, not by my husband, not by my pregnancy bladder, not by my dog barking or the phone ringing but a critter running/fluttering across my head! 

I was four months pregnant with our second child and I moved the quickest I would probably move for some time as I screamed and jumped from my bed.  At the time I thought either a bat or a mouse had joined my husband and I in slumber but my husband confirmed that it was not a bat (my biggest phobia, more on "the night of the bats" later) because it clawed his back as it ran across him, how delightful.  I crossed the hallway to check that our son's room was critter free and shut the door to keep it that way, amazed he had slept through my screaming and thrashing about.  As I crossed the hallway with my blurry vision and no glasses, I saw a "HUGE mouse" scurry down the hallway.  My husband headed to the great room and turned on the lights and revealed a weasel scampering about our kitchen.  

Needless, to say a flurry of activity occurred to rid our house of the resident rodent, this included but is not limited to ripping the washer from its perch (releasing a large amount of dust), cutting a hole in a false wall , ripping up decking, pulling insulation from unfinished basement walls before the hunt was complete.  My husband was a champ and took good care of his jumpy pregnant wife during this early morning ordeal. 

Once the critter removal was complete, I asked my husband, "How the (insert expletive here) did a weasel get into our house?  This thing should be sealed up tighter than Fort Know [being that is was built just 2 years prior]."  Sheepishly, my husband confessed that a window in the basement has not been fully trimmed in allowing for a small gap between the window and the insulation that the weasel was able to chew its way into our home.  As my husband headed to the basement for some early morning trim work he smiled at me and said, "Happy Mother's Day, how many moms can say they got a weasel?" as he chuckled and walked away, leaving me wishing for a different gift.

I hope that is a once and a lifetime experience.  Anybody itching for a great country life after that story?