Why Is It That Mice Are Depicted as Cute Critters For Children's Story Books????

Well, this is it.  I'm going to CLEAN my daughter's room.  Shouldn't take more than an hour or so.  So what's the catch? 

A couple of months ago when we went to a pool party Katrina came home with some stuffed animals the 16yr old daughter of that family didn't want anymore.  She was thrilled.  I, of course, didn't think anything of it at the time  Katrina first mentioned it but before we went home I had plenty of time to think.  Like how a few yrs ago they'd had a mouse run thru one of the bedrooms.  And what if... those stuffed animals were somehow in the way of that, or any other mouse. (As far as I know the mouse went to one of the boys bedrooms, but why let facts get in the way of a good ocd story?)

I was too chicken to tell my daughter she can't take the toys home because I didn't feel like arguing with her.  And my arguement wasn't going to sound all that convincing anyway.  Maybe it would have been better if I HAD argued.   Maybe Katrina would have asked the teen or her mom... no, Katrina wouldn't have done that.  She's too scared.  Maybe they would have heard the screaming of Katrina when she was told to leave the toys, came over and heard the story and kyboshed it right then and there. 

Nope. I thot I could handle my anxiety so I let her bring them in the van.  I let her take them in the house.  And that's as far as my kindness would go.  In her room they became contaminated.  (The van wasn't; don't ask me why not.  Ocd that doesn't happen is fine by me.)

So being left on the floor, among all her other toys, they were ignored by me.  I'd climb into her bed (uncontaminated) and read to her at night.  I'd put her clean laundry away as the dresser wasn't too far into her room an d I could get there. 

One time I tried to undo this whole thing with my husband there.  Both he and I touched something.  It didn't bother him and while I was with him it only bothered me a little.  But the next morning it was back.

So why do something about it now? 2 reasons.  First because my daughter's ballet suit is in the middle of the contaminated mess because I dropped it.  Last week she wore a blue exercise suit instead but it'won't be long before they'll be complaining about how Katrina needs to wear the prescribed colours.  And then what am i going to say?  'Sorry can't do that, it's contaminated' doesn't sound good when it's coming from an adult.  And if they actually believed my house was contaminated I'd soon expect to see CPS at my door wondering why we lived (and kept a child) in a contamination zone.

Second, and more important reason is that Katrina is now sleeping with us because her bed is contaminated too.  She pushed the blankets off one night, right onto one of THOSE stuffed animals.  Bruce, being kind, put the comforter back on the bed when he checked on her.  So then I wouldn't go near the bed either. She slept in her bed 2 nights ago because Bruce put her there after she fell asleep in our bed.  I didn't like it but I had to live with it. 

See, so this little story and the anxiety that goes with it is just screwing up too much of my life.  I could just call and get the scoop on thse stuffed animals but that would also be embarassing.  Bruce says there's nothing wrong with the toys- or her room, or her bed.  It's time for me to deal with it.
So that's my plan fo r the afternoon.

Thot record:

Situation:  above.
 Anxiety:  85+%. 
Hot thot:  Will I be contaminating everything else after I come out of her room NOT having washed
                 stuff down with vinegar, or putting the blanket in the washer, or wiping off the books that crashed onto the floor and came from the library.  Will I contaminate the rest of the house when I just wash my hands after windexing stuff that's supposed to be windexed- and that doesn't include the books or toys laying on the floor because if this weren't an ocd thing, i would just be picking them up,, right?

Evidence that my hot thot might be right:  There was a mouse once so maybe it (or another mouse)
                                                                      pooped on the stuffed animals.
                                                                     The people in MY HOUSE who lived here before us never cleaned up the mouse droppings they had in the kitchen cupboards, nor the poison they used either.  Cleaning that was gross.  So you never know about people.

Evidence that my hot thot might be wrong:  The above sounds ridiculous when I write it down.
                                                                       The rest of the house was clean, so maybe any mice
                                                                        droppings that were ever in the house would have been    cleaned up.
                                                                        Field mice aren't that dangerous?
                                                                         There was no evidence of any mouse droppings on the toys or I'd never have let my daughter touch them, never mind bringing them home.

Anxiety:  45%

Will do it anyway while playing the Les Miserables dvd, to keep my mind off the anxiety and help me pretend it's a normal weekly pickup job.

Anyone want to come over and do it FOR me?????????????????????????


Update.

Well.  I did it.  My hand is shaking and I am hoping that since all I did was wash my hands  and arms to my elbows, I won't think that my computer is contaminated. (It's sitting on my lap). I didn't change my clothes and i left the stuffed animals on Katrina's bed. 

I'm listening to Les Mis, which always makes me cry; that way I have an excuse for crying.  I mean it's not fun shoveling out a kid's room but it goes with the territory of  'mom'.  But it shouldn't be 'achievement of the week'?  Why do I let these 'stories' of mine take over my life?  Do I somehow enjoy (need)  the relief that finally comes when the anxiety finally goes down?  Won't chocolate do the same trick, with less havoc to my nervous system???

I actually noticed some good things this week:  I touched the knob of the dryer with my head while getting laundry out of it and I didn't go and wash my hair.  That must mean I'm finally believing that wiping the dryer does keep it clean until the next time I do the washing when i wipe it again.  That's the first step to not bothering to wipe it down every time I do a load of wash, just in case.