Maybe the Momma is a Hot Mess too

Remember this post? The one with the nasty roach on her pretty chair? 

Well, God needed another laugh. 

We spend the morning doing our usual things when I happen to look down underneath the dining room table (the one I'm standing two inches from!!!) and see a BIG, HUGE NOT YET DEAD ROACH!! Alice was running all around so I did my best to not panic. Because of her curiosity and determination, my usual method (putting a butter dish over it until the Beloved gets home) wasn't going to work. So I squealed in panic and put her in her highchair with paper and a crayon. Yes, just one - she can't handle more than one. 

I spend the next few seconds devising a plan between silent sobs. 

Plan 1 - text Daniel and tell him it's an emergency. 

My usually very quiet rational side of my brain whispered, "this isn't an emergency! Put your big girl panties on and deal with it!" 

Stupid, rational side. 

Plan 2 - deal with it.....on my own.....oh Lord, give me strength. 

So, with Alice far away in her chair with her crayon, I grab the bug spray and I SOAK the nasty thing.....a few times. Because if it twitches at all - it's not dead enough. 

**Side rant:
Dear Raid,
If the can says "KILLS ON CONTACT"  - it needs to KILL ON CONTACT!! Not EVENTUALLY so just give it time!
C.O.N.T.A.C.T.
Sincerely,
I'm Very Serious
Like, for reals
End rant**

I get the dust pan and the broom and squealing all the way, I scoop the still wiggling roach up, holding it as far away from me as my arm will allow and head to the trash can. I open the trash and drop it in, only it doesn't go in the trash can. It goes in the hinge part of the lid. 

And I screamed. Which made the baby throw her crayon. Well, what was left of her crayon. The third she hadn't eaten while I was defending the house from invaders. Her face was covered in green and she was looking at me like, "what the heck, Ma?!" So ungrateful.

I regain control, grab the broom, kick the trash can open and beat the nasty free. I scoop it up and finally get it in the trash can.

I shakily release the baby and we go about our day.....until....

I put the baby down for a nap and as I'm picking something off the fireplace, this giant brown spider is just hanging out an inch from said object. Seriously, it was 4 inches. That's HUGE! It could have eaten the baby!

Since the baby is sleeping, I have to stifle my scream.

This is just too much for one day.

I grab the lying can again, angle myself on the fireplace so I have a good escape plan and soak the sucker. It falls off the fireplace and twitches....for over an hour. 

I eat my lunch watching it twitch in a ball on our floor. 

By this time, I'm sweating, jumping at every sound and scratching all over.

I'm done, spent, tapping out. And it's only noon.

So I wait until it's not moving and grab the bare swiffer sweeper. Standing on the fireplace, I smoosh it. Take THAT evil spider!! Only when I check - it's still wiggling. 

I can't. I just can't. 

I scoop it up and throw it in with the roach and try not to use the trash can for the rest of the day.

My Beloved comes home to a disheveled wife screaming about taking the trash out. I later told him about my harrowing day and how I almost called him to come home. He says, "Timberley, that's not an emergency, I'm not coming home to kill a roach." Yeah, he always says that.

Yesterday, we had the exterminator out. I was telling him about the spider incident - way less drama though, he doesn't need to know I'm crazy. He said, "yeah, that's a Wolf Spider. They're good spiders, they eat other spiders. They're our friends."

Nope. No, sir. Also, he needs new friends. 

He then goes on to tell me about the giant spider he found and how he let it ride home on his shoulder (maybe I'M not the crazy one after all!) and the sewer drain with the over 600 roaches he found. 

NO. SIR.

I told him my Beloved isn't ever going to let me talk to him again. 

And he laughed. 

Until next time......