SH*T HOUSE MOUSE!

The Day Mom Lost Her Cool

Alert: Before I published this, I made sure I had my mom’s permission…

By all accounts, my mom is a kind and loving person, with a healthy dose of snark. I can count only a handful of times she yelled at us and this was one of those days.

When my brother and I were young (7ish/4ish, respectively), there was a cup we fought over the right to drink from. It was a cheap plastic red cup – the only thing that made it special (aside from there being only one in the house) was that it had a built in straw and that straw had been gnawed on by both of us to the point that very little liquid could be drawn from it. We were drawn to that cup like moths to a flame: we NEEDED to drink from that cup and we started every breakfast by arguing over whose turn it was to drink out of that horrible red cup. . Nothing was quite as satisfying as slurping orange juice from The Red Cup while your sibling suffered and drank from the Hamburgler cup we got that one time from McDonalds.

For a period of time, we kept track of whose turn it was (but argued over it daily, just to keep in practice). My mom took that responsibility over and started announcing whose turn it was, probably to keep the morning drama to a minimum so she could deposit us at school and get on with her day, restore her calm and do selfish things like take a bath, laundry and make a phone call without two children invading her space within two seconds of her even glancing at the phone.

We called it, “The Red Cup”. It was more precious to us than actual money. So precious, in fact, that my mom stored it in the medicine cupboard (Dimetapp, Baby Aspirin , Triamenic) high above the kitchen sink. Out. Of. Reach. Off. Limits. Over. Our. Heads. But never out of our minds.

One morning, mom forgot to announce whose turn it was. My brother and I, excited about this loophole, this unexpected, once in a lifetime opportunity, bickered spiritedly at the table while my mom, an actual saint, made us letter shaped pancakes while The Three Stooges were on the black and white tv and The Two Stooges (my brother and I), presented our cases with the dedication of two attorneys.

Of course things came to a head. It was inevitable. It was early in the morning and my mom had already had it with us for some reason or another. In an act of pure Mom Glory, she flung open the medicine cupboard, snatched the Red Cup, set it firmly (really firmly, it made a sharp, attention-getting snapping sound) on the counter and yelled, “SH*T HOUSE MOUSE!” and left the kitchen.

My brother and I were instantly silent. Such a thing had never happened. And the choice of words was brilliant. So many questions about the mouse and its living situation. Mom was out of the kitchen and we were left to eat our Golden Grahams cereal appetizer, alone and in shock.

Of course she didn’t leave the house. I suspect she went into the half bath to think about her badly behaved children and gather her wits.

She wasn’t gone long. Maybe 4-5 minutes. She came back and was calm. Kind but firm. She asked us if we were going to have any more problems that day and even though it was a question, she didn’t want any feedback. It was a Mom Statement phrased in question format. We. Were. Not. Going. To. Have. Any. More. Problems. That. Day.

It was a quiet breakfast and a quiet ride to school. My brother and I were overly kind to each other. No bickering, very polite cocktail party conversation. I remember that he complimented my coat and I asked how his Playmobile collection was coming along.

When mom dropped us off, she told us she loved us very much, have a good day and that we were going to have a good afternoon. And we did. We went to Pumpkin Park after school and had ice cream. My mom was always incapable of sending us off to school without telling us she loved us.

Sh*t house mouse is family lore now and it is hilarious. I will never forget the snapping sound of The Red Cup on the kitchen counter.