Caution: If you did not read my previous post, you may want to do so now, in order to have a clear picture. Click here, to read it.
Fast forward 8 years. I am now the mother of a 23 month old and a 2 1/2 year old. The month is November. How can I remember the time so clearly? Well, you see, I know we had recently celebrated Halloween, because my children were in love with all things scary.
"Spider, Mommy! Spider!" They sing-song in their high pitched little girl voices. I was in the kitchen.
"Yep! Spiders! We love spiders! What kind of spider do you have?" You understand, of course, I was merely humoring the little tykes while I did my very important mommy things...
"NO Mommy! A real big spider! On the window!" Again, this announcement is said gleefully.
"Just a minute! I'm busy. I'll come see you're 'real' spider in a minute!" I chuckled and shook my head...Oh those kids and their imaginations....
I finished my task, walked in my living room, and to my horror, on the front bay window is the biggest, scariest spider I've ever seen in my life! Picture a spider as big as a tarantula, but it's NOT a tarantula. It's black. And it's not hairy, like you'd think. Nope, it's smooth, like a black widow, but again it's entirely too humongous to be a black widow. And it's in my house. On my window. In my living room. Actually, on the window isn't exactly right. It was on my sheers on the window side. I was in a panic. There was a giant, killer spider in my house. What was I going to do? I had to protect my children. Their safety was in my hands. I did what any sane, responsible mother of 2 small defenseless children would do.
I called their father.
"Studmuffin? I need you to come home. Now. There's an emergency."
"What's the matter?" His voice echoes concern. I know he's coming to save me. I can feel the relief begin to flow through my veins.
"There is s giant spider in the house. I need you to come home, right now, and kill it!"
"You want me to come home. To kill a spider."
"Yes to kill a spider! It's a giant spider! I told you, it's an emergency! Come. Home. Now." My voice raised a few decibels by this point.
"Babe, I'm not leaving work to kill a spider. You have to take care of it."
"B-b-b-but, it's a big spider. It's scary. I can't kill it. I need you to come home. Now." The girls are now dancing around and singing "Kill the spider Mommy! You can do it! Kill it! Yeah!"
"You have to kill it. I'm not leaving work."
"But, what if it gets one of the girls before I can kill it?"
*Sigh* "It's not going to get one of the girls. If you're worried about the girls, send them upstairs, and put the gate up so they can't come down."
"Okay. But I really think you should come home and kill it. That's your job you know." What the heck kind of man did I marry? Where's my knight in shining armor?
"No. My job is here. You can do this. Just calm down. Now, just take a newspaper, and whack the spider." Heartless. That's what he is...Utterly and completely heartless.
"I can't. The spider will get guts all over my drapes. I need you to come home and get the spider down from the drapes and kill it."
"No. Here's what you're going to do. Get a plastic pitcher. Put it around the spider, then take a newspaper and whack the spider into the pitcher. Then, the spider will be in the pitcher."
"But, what if the spider jumps out? Then it will bite me, and I will die, and the girls will not have a mother to raise them, and it will be all your fault because I need you to come home. And kill this spider. NOW."
"I'm not coming home. Once you knock the spider into the pitcher, carry it to the door, shaking the pitcher the entire way so the spider will be unable to jump out." I can tell his resolve his very firm. He is not going to come home and save me...His fair damsel in distress.
"Okay. I can do this." *sniffle* "If I must..."
I did as he instructed. He was still on the phone with me. At this point everyone in his office had joined into listening to his end of the conversation, shocked, I'm sure, at his utter lack of compassion for me, and his refusal to do his duty as my husband and come rescue me from the giant killer spider.
I took the pitcher. I squealed as I put it around the spider. I took a newspaper and whacked the spider. Nothing happened. The spider is now trapped in my pitcher, still clinging to the sheer with it's sticky feet (duh) and it is now angry....Plotting it's vengeance on me...I began to weep. The girls were still upstairs, cheering and clapping for me. "You can do it Mommy! Yeah, Mommy! Kill the spider!"
"It's still on the drape! It didn't move, and now it's angry, and it is going to kill me! Come home! Save me!!!"
"Honey. Calm down. Take the pitcher and scrape it down the drape, knocking the spider loose, into your pitcher. Then, you will take the pitcher, with the spider in it, and run to the door, shaking the pitcher so the spider will be unable to jump out and eat you." I sensed a certain amount of exasperation and patronization in his tone.....
Okay. I'm starting to get the idea that he thinks I'm being a tad ridiculous. Does he not realize the monstrous creature that has invaded our home, my sanctuary, and is threatening the very safety of my children and me?
I beg him to come home and help. He is firm. I must deal with this myself. Giving up on him having even small shred of decency, I did as he instructed. Only, to my utter horror, I neglected to hold the drape taut as I scraped the pitcher down, and the spider fell to the floor. I screamed a blood curdling scream, jumped approximately 3 feet in the air, and dropped the pitcher.
Now, Gentle Reader, here is where the hand of God came into play. The pitcher fell down on top of the spider, trapping the spider under it. I was safe! The spider was trapped! I was not going to die a horrible painful death by spider bite! I began to cheer with relief and joy. The girls started jumping up and down, clapping their hands for their mommy.
"I got it! I trapped the spider under the pitcher on the floor! I'm leaving it there until you get home tonight."
"What?! No you are not. You will kill the spider. You can do this."
"No. I can't. Please come home. Please. Please....."
Well, I eventually gave in. I got a shoe, the biggest shoe I could find, and began my attack. Studmuffin remained on the phone. I picked up the pitcher and let out a blood curdling scream as I brought the shoe down on the spider.
"Did you kill it?"
"I don't know...."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"I'm afraid to lift the shoe."
"Oh good grief. Pick up the shoe, clean up the spider, and get hold of yourself."
I ground the shoe into the floor with all my might. There was very little evidence that the giant spider ever existed other than the tiny bits of spider legs and exoskeleton by the time I was finished with that thing.
And my blood curdling scream? Well, I finally realized why the Indians let out war whoops as they went into battle. It was out of sheer terror, and determination that they would be victorious over their enemies....Their's was white man, mine was the killer spider. Yep, I am way more understanding of the Native American experience after my conflict with the spider.......
My children cheered and cheered for me. I was the hero of the day. I killed the monstrous spider. All by myself. No thanks to Studmuffin.