The Battle of the Bird

We have a transom window above our front door. It doesn't open; it's just for decoration.

As such, there is a little bit of a ledge. Apparently, just the right depth for a bird nest.

Or so a particular robin seems to think.

I don't think so.

We use the front door a gazillion times a day. We have a three car garage in the back of the house which we access via an alley. The garage is full of unorganized stuff, so we don't park in it. That's a story for another day. (I know, I think I've been saying that for a couple of years now.)

I am not parking on the driveway, walking around the garage (in the generally wet or snow covered grass), and across the back patio to reach the back door.

Oh. My. Gosh. That's like, 60 feet. At least.

It is so much faster to park on the street and be just a few feet from the front door.

Anywho, back to the bird.

A couple of months ago, I noticed a bunch of grass and whatnot on the front porch right in front of the door. I swept it off into the mulch.

The next day, it happened again. This time I also observed a robin heading toward the house and making a dramatic turn when it saw me.

Gears started turning in my head. No, there wasn't any smoke emanating. I've use my brain often enough to know you have to spray some WD-40 up there once in awhile.

I made my eyes all squinty-like, pursed my lips and thought to myself, "That bird is trying to make a nest up there."

Now, I don't have an issue with birds building nests. I know there would even be interesting learning/observation moments for the kids. But I can't have a bird nest right above my front door.

Birds poop.

A lot.

And their nest isn't their bathroom. It would be my front door and porch right below the nest. I have a home based business and I can't have a front door that is constantly covered in bird poop. Also, since this is our main point of entry, I can't have a bird dive bombing us every time we use it because we're getting too close to the eggs/baby birds.

Sorry, birdie, we were here first. You are going to have to go some place else. A tree perhaps - there is one only ten feet away with a nice amount of leaves to provide adequate coverage. There are even a couple of other places where the pillars support the roof of the porch that would be good nesting spots.

Just not right above the front door!

Well, I couldn't have him building his nest there so I scooped up all his fallen materials and threw them in the trash. I wasn't going to give him easy access so he could just try again.

After I threw away the mess, I saw him up in the transom window trying to build the nest. AGAIN! Doesn't he get that there just isn't enough room up there????

I opened the door, screamed, "Bah!" at him, and he flew away. I looked like a crazy woman in my bathrobe screaming, "Bah!" at my front door for a couple of days afterward.

Whatever he was using to try to build the nest wasn't staying up there anyway. I was constantly cleaning up my front porch and filling my trash with twigs, dried grass, that netting they use to keep sod together, etc.

After a few days, I didn't seen him anymore and thought he had found himself a nice tree to make a nest in.

Until yesterday.

Let me mention we'd just had a real nice storm and the ground was sopping wet. Some would call it muddy.

The bird would call it glue.

Yup, now he had dried grass & twigs & mud.

When I woke up and walked down the stairs, I could see something in the corner of the transom window. More eye squinting and pursed lips. "That bird is back."

I grabbed a coat hanger and knocked down what little he had up there. I scooped up the meager mud hut beginnings and threw it in the trash.

I took my shower and got the family ready for the day.

An hour later, as I walked down the stairs, I actually saw the bird in the transom window with a mouth full of muddy grass. He saw me and flew off into a tree. Where he belongs!!!!!

I grabbed the hanger and knocked down a bigger wad of mud and grass. As I was doing this, I heard, "Gack! Gack! Gack!" I looked at the bird and said, "Don't you talk back to me. You can't build a nest here." I was very stern. I even wagged my finger at him.

I had to run out for a bit. When I returned an hour and a half later, that gosh darned bird had an even bigger wad of mud and grass up in the transom window.

Obviously, my stern warning wasn't enough of a deterrent. I know, it doesn't really work with the kids either. I don't know why I thought it would work on something that didn't even speak my language.

I marched up the porch steps and grabbed the coat hanger. I left it out on the porch earlier. Perhaps it was a passive attempt at a threat, but that didn't deter the bird either.

I flicked the mud off that ledge and it landed with a splat.

I needed a new plan.

To the garage!

After a brief search, I came up with water balloons. Hard to believe it was a brief search in that garage, but it was like a beacon of light was shining on the balloons. Not really, they just happened to be at the end of an eye-level shelf right in front of the access door.

I blew up several and tied them to a string. Ran to the basement for a nail & a hammer. Scrambled to place a chair under the transom window. Stretched on my tippy toes to hammer the nail into casing and tied on my string of balloons. That bird was getting faster at building his mud huts so I had to execute ASAP.

The fluttering balloons should keep him at bay.

I'm determined. I. WILL. WIN.

Silver Lining:

1. 24 hours and counting and there is no more mud in the transom window.


2. I've always resisted putting any nails in the casing around the door and transom window for Christmas garland so my front door has always had just a boring wreath on it. It's a pretty wreath, but just so cliche. Now that the first nail has been driven, I might as well put in some more when I go to put up the Christmas decorations this year.


3. I'll get a head start on those Christmas nails. The balloons are pretty deflated today so I'm going to evenly space some nails and hang old CD's from them using fishing line. Hopefully, they won't be to obvious from the street (and get me in trouble with the HO association), but will flutter enough to keep the bird away.

Minty Fresh

My youngest daughter, aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrgh!

Last night, as we were putting the girls to bed, I froze in my tracks. Outside the laundry room door, ON THE CARPET, was a bright blue spot about a bazillion inches across. Well maybe it was only four inches, but it was quite large. Especially, when you realize it is Crest Gel toothpaste.

It took awhile longer, but after I had tucked Stinkles into bed, I came to understand the full extent of her sassiness.

Stinkles is a red-head and has the stereotypical attitude, temperament, and personality to go along with it. She is stubborn, prone to tantrums and can be generally mischievous. She thinks defiance is funny. Most of this can be blamed on the fact that she is three-years-old, but some of it is just Stinkles, being Stinkles. My life is going to be a living hell when she’s a teenager – I can feel it.

Anyway, Hubby got out the little carpet cleaner machine and got to work on the spot. As he worked on the spot a minty smell wafted through the air. Much better than the poop, pee or puke we normally have to clean up with the machine.

I got Stinkles to her room and into bed. That’s when I saw her “baby sisters” propped up at the end of her bed with a little plate from the play kitchen in front of them. On the plate was a mound of toothpaste. When I say mound, I mean mound – it looked like she was trying to feed them spaghetti with meatballs on top.

To further the sassiness, she had a Dixie cup of water next to each of them as well as one for herself on top of a pile of books next to her bed. We have a "children do not take food or drink out of the kitchen or dining areas" rule - NO EXCEPTIONS! At least she had the sense to put the one cup of water on a hard surface.

If it wasn’t so sweet of her to take such good care of her babies, I would still be mad at her this morning. As it was, she woke up this morning, immediately gave us a hug, and, in her little voice (she’s very soft spoken; Kate was “blessed” with my voice that carries five miles), said “I love you.”


Silver lining:
1. The toothpaste did not bleach out the carpet.

2. She can turn on the “cute” factor and melt your heart in an instant – maybe that’s not a good thing, hmmmm.

3. You gotta admire her creativity. Instead of putting an empty plate in front of them or using some piece of plastic food from the play kitchen, she found a way to give her babies something real.

What it Means to Clean Up - Five Year Old Style

Some nights, I walk into the house & immediately get crabby. The house is a disaster area and it’s my fault.

I say it’s my fault because I:
a. Let the kids make a “fort” the night before, and all the pillows didn’t get put away (nor did any of the other toys/books they got out)

b. Got the kids into their jammies in the family room and didn’t pick up the dirty clothes on my way upstairs to tuck them in

c. Had a new book I really wanted to read so I lazed out on picking up the kitchen

d. Ate a snack in the family room and never brought the dish to the kitchen later

e. Watched TV under a blanket and upon awakening on the couch an hour later, proceeded to make a bee line for the bedroom without regard to putting away the blanket

f. Didn’t insist that everyone pitch in on the clean-up along the way

g. Am guilty of all of the above!!!!


Before anyone rolls their eyes and says, “Oh, my gosh. What a slob!”, send me a comment telling me that you are perfect and have never had such an evening. Regardless, my laziness always comes back to bite me in the butt.

The grand plan is to pick everything up in the morning. Yah, right – I have two kids & a husband! I don’t know why I can’t get it through my thick skull that morning is only a finite amount of time because I refuse to get up any earlier than five & I need to get to work around eight. Oh, and did I mention, I usually have a load of laundry to fold each morning? Right now, this chore is a welcome one as I have a dryer that works - but I've already covered this topic.

Plan “B” is to clean it up when we get home, but the kids are clamoring for a show, some gum, some yogurt, dinner. Now, I’m huffing & grumbling about all the noise & mess.

I decide the first order of business is to get the kids to be quiet. My mind is spinning with all these tasks (totally picturing a tornado filled with dishes, blankets, food, books, etc. above my head), but I manage to start a TV show.

Next, I need to find enough room on the counter to prepare dinner. I stack the coloring pages & art projects brought home from school along with the unopened mail. Amongst the crap remaining on the counters are a prescription bottle, bucket-o-crayons, a power cord, a hairbrush, several stickers with no sticky left on the back, some jewelry, receipts, and other “stuff”.

I’m working on making space when Cupie leaves the kitchen island. I figure she’s tired of listening to me crab and is moving to the couch so she can hear the TV better.

As I’m finishing the peanutbutter & jelly sandwiches, she comes back in the kitchen wearing a very proud smile. She says, “Mommy, I cleaned the family room for you.”

I said, “Oh, thank you honey! You get a marble for helping and another one for volunteering instead of being asked!”

I turned around (why do I keep turning my back on them???) and looked at the family room. Cupie had cleaned up all right – cleaned up the floor! She put all the clothes, shoes, toys, books, pillows, blankets on the couch & chairs. The floor looked AWESOME! You could walk into the room, but there was no place to sit down!

No matter, she got her marbles anyway – it was so sweet that she helped out all by herself.



Silver lining:

1. The mess in the family room was consolidated so it was easier to put it all away.

2. My daughter is two marbles closer to the all important "Sleep Over" line on her marble jar.

3. I have been reminded (once again) how important it is to go to bed without leaving such a mess!!! Honestly, I don't think I will ever learn this lesson because I have a lot of relapses. Note the first sentance says "Some nights . . ."; then later I say, "my laziness always comes back to bite me in the butt." You can rightly infer that this lesson has not been imprinted on my brain.

What it Means to Clean Up - Three Year Old Style

I have an almost three year old - Stinkles. She is somewhat trying (what kid isn’t at that age), but cute & funny.

I bought a table & chairs for the basement playroom this past weekend. I wanted to get the Play-doh, crayons, markers, glue, etc. off my kitchen island. There is only room for two at the island anyway so when other kids are over, I didn’t have enough room to keep them all busy with these types of activities. With the table, they can play all they want downstairs.

Of course, as soon as I got it home, my girls wanted the table set up – they were ready for Play-doh! I surveyed the playroom and it was a disaster area. Babies, blocks, & dress-up clothes were strewn all across the 12 X 14 play area. The first order of business became cleaning up so there was room for the table.

I gave each girl a job and then started picking up the plastic food & mini cookware in the kitchen area. My back was to them and I heard Stinkles singing the clean-up song – “Clean up, clean up everybody everywhere. Clean up, clean up everybody does their share.” But there was another sound - whishoo, whishoo, whishoo. I turned around and there she was on the Sit-N-Spin!! How that activity is cleaning up, I’ll never know. I guess I have to be a little more specific, “Now Stinkles, pick up the blocks. That means picking up the block and placing it in this box. Then, you pick up another one and do the same thing . . .”

Kids – argh!

Silver lining:
1. The playroom was clean for two hours.
2. I was able to clean the kitchen island off so there is NOTHING on it!