Spider-Mom

I hate spiders. Really, really, really hate them. I know they are good creatures with merit and they kill bad bugs. Right. I get all that. But they give me the heebie-jeebies. I know it's irrational. But I'm a girl. So spare me the lecture. (Once I received an anonymous email from someone in response to a post I made about killing a spider. She thought I should gently relocate spiders from my home to the Great Outdoors.)

Despite that suggestion, I hate spiders and they scare me. But I am a grown-up. I have to act like it. At least while the kids are watching.

My husband (aka The Spider-Killer) is out of town for a few days, so it's up to me to handle each crisis as it pops up. Two nights ago, a jumbo-sized spider was minding its own business in a corner of the boys' room. They freaked out and I was forced to pretend that I didn't mind slapping it down with a fly-swatter. ::::shudder::::

Yesterday, I moved three backpacks from a corner and out scurried an even bigger spider. I shouted to the boys, "QUICK! GET ME A BIG SHOE!" They couldn't translate my frantic English into . . . well, into Boy Talk, and they did not give me a shoe in time and I was forced to stomp on that spider in my bare slipper. Only a slipper and a sock shielded my delicate skin from that scary old spider.

This morning, I reached for a pair of jeans on a high shelf and as I carried it out of the closet, I came eyeball to eyeball with an enormous spider. I did what any mature, almost forty-year old woman would do. I screamed and flung the jeans onto the head of my almost-two year old daughter. The spider disappeared.

Until tonight. I started the baby's bath and she climbed into the tub and then said, "Spider." I said, "What?" She pointed to a huge spider trying to hide under an empty bottle. Right in the tub. I snatched Babygirl from the tub, stifled a scream and tried to think. What to do? This spider was big. Really, really big. At least two inches from edge to edge. (Hey, that's big for the Pacific Northwest.)

I hate spiders.

Did you know that if you squirt baby shampoo directly onto a spider, it will first attempt to outrun the tear-free cleanser and then it will shrivel limply and die? Well, now you know. I asked my six year old to use a wad of tissue to transport the dead carcass of Mr. Scary Spider to the toilet.

Enough. Do you hear that, Spiders? I've had enough. Don't make me get the pesticide out!

This reminds me of Branson, Missouri. When I was 19 years old, I worked as a nanny and lived in a small, furnished apartment on the shores of Tablerock Lake. I would come home from a long day of minding bratty kids and when I switched on the lightswitch, cockroaches would scurry back into their hiding spots. I grew up in the Pacific Northwest, in the suburbs, in a tract home with wall-to-wall carpet and I had never actually come face to face with cockroaches before.

My solution? Well, I couldn't stomach the sound of crunching insect bodies, so instead of killing them with forceful smacks, I put drinking glasses over as many as I could, trapping them. Then, I carefully slid a heavy piece of paper under the cockroaches and carried them one by one to the bathroom, where I dropped them one by one into the toilet. Very efficient, yes?

Did you know cockroaches can swim?

I discovered that a squirt of Dawn dishwashing liquid seemed to stun them--paralyzed? dead? Who knew? Then, I'd flush.

This worked great until a particulary large cockroach startled me just as I reached the toilet. I screamed and let go of the glass, which fell into the toilet and broke.

You just haven't lived until you've picked glass shards out of a cockroach-infested toilet.

Oh, and that reminds me of one more thing. I heard once that every person will eat eight spiders in their sleep during the course of his or her lifetime. Urban legend? I hope so. Just in case, I now wear pantyhose over my head while I sleep. A girl can never be too careful.