Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Irrational Fear: Spiders

I've never liked spiders. They creep me out for a number of reasons, but mostly it's because they have way too many of things.

Firstly, legs. They have 8. Who the hell needs 8 legs? I get by on two just fine. Who do they think they are? With all their crouching. Under tables. Shower drains. In clothes. And every fucking dark corner you can imagine.


Secondly, eyes. They, again, have 8. (Mostly, some species do have less.) And again, I have only two and get along just fine. But noooo, they stare at you. With all 8 eyes. Calculating ways to freak you out.
"Did I look to the right or the left, human? You don't know do you? Why is that? OH, because I have 8 fucking eyes and you can't tell. Muwhahahahaha!"
And don't get me started on tarantulas - where you can actually see their eyes looking at you. Following you. Imagining delicious ways to lure you into a trap of hundreds of spiders just like him aching to eat your flesh on the fancy silver platter they've somehow acquired. With 4 tiny forks for the right legs and 4 tiny knives on the left legs, and a bib that says "Humans: The Only White Meat". And yes, that is something I've actually imagined prior to the writing of this.

Do I scream like a banshee when I see one? No.
Do I find the longest route available around the spider to get to my destination? Yes.
Do I find a large cup and trap a spider underneath it when I find one in my house because I can't stand actually killing one for fear that its cousin is watching and will put a hit out on me in my sleep? You bet your ass I do. (Not to mention the crunching sound. GAG.)

This is something I've lived with quietly for years. But then I had Lillie. And I can't do it anymore. Because every time I lay her down in her crib I have to inspect it for a nest of spiders. And every time she wakes up crying do I think "Hey, she's hungry." or "Hey, she's pooped herself"?

Uh, NO. I imagine a spider slapping her in her face with the two foremost legs saying
 "This is for my kind you tiny human! This is for the time your mom trapped my uncle underneath that glass in the kitchen for a FULL DAY before he was put out of his misery! THIS IS SPARTA! <insert full frontal kick to Lillie's forehead from spider>"
Okay, the sparta thing is going a little far - but seriously this is what my imagination does to me.

I always thought I'd be the sane mother, the one who was like "Oh, let her eat grass. She'll learn." And I may be. But when it comes to spiders, I'm completely illogical. Unreasonable. Unstable.

But come to think of it, what is sanity when it comes to being a parent?

Maybe I'm not so unstable after all. Or maybe that's just what the spiders want me to think.


Friday, April 15, 2011

Leaves, Pine Cones & Dead Carcass

Do you ever feel like there's something just working against all odds to make your life completely miserable in the most ridiculous way possible?

Well, I do. { Example One; Example Two}

Backstory: A few weeks ago, I got into trouble with my husband about my lack of attention to this rattling sensation that had engulfed my truck. (Well as much trouble as a wife can get into while rolling her eyes and saying "But I didn't notice it, I swear!") We took the truck in, got her fixed and I promised to be more observant. He promised not to make fun of me in public for my very stereotypical attention deficit order to all things mechanical (okay, I lied, he didn't promise that, but oh how I wish he would!)

Monday, April 4 - I notice a shimmy in my steering wheel and while normal people may be annoyed at this, I was incredibly ecstatic because I NOTICED IT and then thought,

Finally, I can prove to him that I AM observant and capable!

But then 8 hours of work passed by and I forgot. (This is important, had I told him this at the time, the following probably could have been avoided.)

Tuesday, April 5 - I notice a faint smell of nastiness as I lock Lillie into the car seat, but I figure since we live out in the boonies it's probably some smell wafting from a neighboring field. I crank the truck, back out of the driveway, get my tunes ready to roll, turn on the A/C and
Whhhhyyy,  thHeEeHHee EEffFF iiiiSSS MMMyyyY TrUUUUCkkkkKKK shhhHHHAAAKKKinnnggg Lliiike thhAAAAAtttTT?
 I cut off the A/C. It stops. I cut onnnnTHHHeeeAAA/C, I cut off the the A/C, IIIiii CCCuuuttt onnNNNthheeeeeAAA/C, I cut off the A/C. This process goes on for the next 10 minutes, because I want to make sure I'm not losing my mind and imagining all this. I look at the clock - 7:42 a.m. I need to call Alfred and explain what's going on, but I'll just do it when I get to work. Because I want to be safe and not talk on the phone while driving. Uh, right.

Can you see where this is going?

Yep, forgot. Well, until right before bed. So, technically I did tell him on the day I noticed it so uh, I can get at least one point for effort right?

Wednesday, April 6 - I walk out my front door, I again smell horribleness but this time it seems to be emanating from all aspects of my truck. I roll down all the windows, apologize to Lillie while simultaneously looking under seats for a possible lost dirty diaper, or an escaped chicken nugget. I find nothing. And then as any hopeful non-mechanically inclined wife would do - I tuuURRnnneEEdd onnnn and immediately turned it off.

And then I threw up in my mouth a little. Okay, fine - a lot.

The smell was in my truck. It was IN MY TRUCK.
Specifically, in my A/C. Un-Frackin-believable. I drove to work with all 4 windows down, hair be damned, and occasionally gagging at the smell that would disappear and then return at the exact moment I was breathing extra deep to get out that Celine Dion note I was just jamming too.

I did not forget to call Alfred when I got to work at this point. I asked if perhaps the reason my truck was doing the shimmy shake was if an animal had worked it's way into the organs of my truck and laid it's soul to rest for all eternity.

His response - laughter. And then some more laughter. I somehow make out in the midst of his cackling spree that he'll look into it when we get home tonight. I think sure, I can make it until then. I only have to be in my truck on the way home. Windows down, I'm gooooood.

That is until I realize it's supposed to be in the 80s, my truck hangs out in a parking lot of no shade and I had lunch plans. Let's just say that the heat did not help my situation 4 hours later as I pulled out of the parking lot for my lunch date, windows at this point were just beyond help. It was bad. It was hilarious. And despite, the horror of it I knew it'd still be worse as it sat in the parking lot for the next 4 hours of my work day.

I was - in a word - dreading 5 o'clock. I survived the trip home, barely. As the smell wasn't just invading my nostrils at this point, but also my taste buds. I was eating winded dead animal, I just knew it and for some reason not knowing what the animal was made it all the more disgusting.

Bird, cat, mouse, squirrel, iguana, a slew of spiders, raccoon, dog - what the hell was in there?

As Alfred dismantled my truck, I took Lillie in the house for her "Hey, Mom, I'm home now and I just pooped myself" diaper change and then we walked outside with my nose turned up ready to hear what horrible disgusting animal was lodged into my taste buds.

Alfred insisted there was nothing there. I insisted there was. I was that crazy woman, barefooted, baby on the hip, one arm-a-flailing, talking/screaming at him that I wasn't crazy. There was something in there. Why can you not smell it? Alfred, don't mess with me. Did you find it? I'm not crazy. What is it? LOOK AGAIN.

Come to find out, it was a mouse - Alfred just enjoys making me lose my mind. He's a sick, twisted individual and by gawd I love him for it. (For the record, had the roles been reversed I would have so done the same thing to him.)

Thursday, April 7 - There's a new smell. A more...uh, fragrant? pleasant? confusing? Yes. Confusing smell. I was intrigued, what was that? I could still smell the decay, but it was underneath a mask. But a mask of what?

Why, a mask of Fall Harvest Febreze my good people!

My husband had tried to help mask the smell by using a bottle of Febreze, some bleach and gawd who knows what else.

But all I could make out was leaves, pine cones and dead mouse carcass.

I've not been able to look at barbecue the same since.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Mommyhood : Uh, Did That Just Happen?

Over the past 4 1/2 months Lillie has done a number of things to me that a year ago, I likely would have thrown up at the mere thought of. And now, I'm happy as a lark when she poops because that means I don't have to deal with a ....suppository. Blech. Seriously,  I've never been more interested in bowel movements as I am when it comes to my kid.

She's pooped on me, she's peed on me, she's spit up on me, she's always drooling on her hand and then conveniently placing it in or around my mouth, she - in short - uses me to get rid of bodily fluids because it makes her happy. (Or at least that's why I imagine she does it.)

But last night, oh last night, was a new one.

She farted.

Okay, well that's not new. She's got the flatulence of a frat boy, but it's how I realized she farted that made this a newbie. I notice she's become extra bootylicious, which means it's diaper change time. So, here's what happens -

  • I pick her up and lovingly place her on her changing table
  • I coo at her, make her smile adoringly at me as I tell her how awesome she is
  • Diaper is successfully off without her crying
  • I boogity-boogity boo at her to distract her from the cold wipe on her bottom
  • I reach for some Boudreaux's Butt Paste because I'm overly concerned that my daughter is going to develop a diaper rash since her last diaper change 30 minutes ago 
and that's when it happened...

I felt air. ON.MY.HAND.
Which froze while I looked at my smiling adorable baby and said,

"Uh, did that just happen?"

And with that question, she simply replied by doing it again.

The joys of motherhood.