This is the sort of random post that caused me to remove all the previous posts from my blog for the new design. It’s not a writing tip, and it’s not about being a mompreneur; this post is about survival. However, since yesterday’s spider attack took place while I was working, and the following post has to do with family, we’ll just consider this a “mompreneur survival tip.”
In case you don’t follow me on Twitter, let me explain. I’m choosing to reshare this post because of my little interlude with a spider yesterday. The story yesterday was simple enough: harmless office worker attacked when ginormous, pea-size spider decided to crawl up said worker’s arm while she was minding her own business, reading a manuscript. Rude, huh?
Anyway… Here’s a “recycled” post (from 2013) about one of my previous experiences with a spider:
. . .
As you might imagine, my daughter is the most precious thing in the world to me. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her safe, happy, and healthy… Or so I thought.
That’s right. The stinkin’ “itsy bitsy spider” came to life right there on the carpet of our living room. I am absolutely terrified of spiders (a fear that developed from watching my hero—my older sister—dance, squirm, and scream whenever one is in viewing distance).
I immediately bunkered down into my sofa, urgently pressing my husband to “Get it! Get it!”
Then, the mommy part of my brain kicked in and what I saw next made my skin crawl. Dear Daughter (“DD”) was looking at the spider, and what had her moronic mother just said? “Get it!” So, what was my little angel going to do? “Get it!”
Exit All Reason
In order to save my daughter from this spider with eight one-inch legs of death and decay, I quickly leaped from my sofa. Armed only with my Mary Jane Farm magazine, I did what any other caring mother would do: I attacked.
Quickly slamming the magazine down before the horrible creature could jump on me or DD first, I then beat the magazine twice with my fist.
Sensing the squirming beneath the publication, I added a strong knee jab. Once. Twice. Then once more for good measure. Then, one more good knee to the center of the magazine until I could feel the tiny monstrosity squash out of existence.
My daughter was wide-eyed with awe for her brave, life-saving mother. So, to make sure she was further impressed and kept back from a safe distance, I slowly peeled back the dilapidated magazine.
The victim stayed completely still, a painful looking example of defeat.
Taking a break from his laughing-attack, my husband finally managed to pull himself off the couch and go get something to transport the spider to his final resting place.
The only problem was the legs started moving again.
Somehow in all the excitement and malice, the spider had survived!
I grabbed my daughter, holding her tight, so we would parish together if the time came. She would not die alone.
I screamed for my husband’s quick return in a last-ditch effort to save us. Unfortunately, his eyes were clouded over from tears of worry and amusement, so he could only come to our rescue at a slow, snail’s pace. Then, rather than leap down and remove the crawling terrorizer, he stopped to make observations about how it was already dead. I had “creamed it,” he explained. The leg was just a post-death involuntary movement.
“Fine! Fine!” I conceded to his irrational logic, “Just kill it!”
Finally, after leaving the room twice more for bursts of laughter that reduced him to midget-height, he came back and carried off the remains of the horrifying creature.
Then, he posted it on Facebook.
Only, when he relayed the story, he completely left out the description of the spider, as well as the obvious pre-pounce motion (which proved its evil intent) that we had all witnessed.
I wrote this story for a contest over on another fun blog I happened upon.
The story is absolutely, 100% true, though told completely from my own perspective. My husband tells it slightly different, but I’ve always been the one most adept to recounting details.