fearless
I used to be really scared of spiders.
Those of you who know me in real life might be laughing right now. My mother will recall how I would stomp on a spider with a shoe, then take the shoe off and leave it where it was on the floor--for days, if no one else moved it--rather than pick it up and have to set eyes on the yucky (squished) arachnid underneath. My college roommate will recall how I had actual nightmares about bugs, so bad that I carefully placed three plastic glow-in-the-dark tree frogs on the posts of my bed in hopes that they would catch (and eat) the spiders that haunted my dreams. My husband will remember all the many, many times I have fetched him to kill a spider for me--even getting him up out of bed, if necessary--rather than deal with it himself.
And so, bearing all that in mind, I'll forgive you if you don't quite believe that first sentence of my post. That I used to be really scared of spiders. Which implies that I am not scared of spiders anymore.
And, OK, I won't be rushing out to throw a spider-lovers' party anytime soon, but I am here to tell you that I deal with those disgusting things SO MUCH better than I did in the past.
The reason? Motherhood.
It does funny things to you, having three little people looking to you for strength, protection and guidance all day long. I mean, Daddy isn't here during the daytime. What am I supposed to do when one of my kiddos shrieks that a spider is climbing up the wall next to her bed at naptime? Tell her to just lie still and ignore it until Daddy comes home? No, it's up to me to save the day.
And, speaking of childish shrieks, that's another reason--a major reason--that I summon all the courage I have when it comes to dispatching rogue insects. I really, really don't want to pass on my irrational fear of spiders to my children. I don't want them to get the idea--from watching me freak out about spiders--that spiders are something to be freaked out about.
If I want them to grow up to be brave, I'm going to have to show them what bravery looks like.
So I do my best to play it cool when I see a spider in the house. Do I ignore it? No. Do I tenderly capture it and set it free outside? No. Do I occasionally jump and go "Eww!" if it's a particularly big one? Yes. But in general, I think I do a good job of telling them, "Don't worry guys, it's just a spider," and then calmly (but hurriedly) squishing it with a shoe or a Kleenex.
And you know what? I think it's actually working.
The other day, I heard Lucy call, "Mom! There's a spider!"
"Okay, sweetie, I'm coming," I answered. But I was across the house from her. By the time I got to her bedroom, she was standing there calmly, and the spider was nowhere in sight.
"Where is it?" I asked, my wad of Kleenex ready for the death blow.
"Don't worry, mom," she told me. "I just squished it with my finger."
And she held out her hand. Indeed, there on the end of her finger was a very small, very dead spider.
"Wow, what a brave girl," I told her, suppressing my gag reflex and using the Kleenex to wipe bug guts off her hand.
"Yep, I know," she said, and skipped back off to play with Barbies and princesses.
What do you know. My spider-killing apprentices have actually moved on to dispatching arachnids with their bare hands.
I may somewhat less of a weeny when it comes to spiders than I used to be. But I don't think I'm ever going to be as hard-core as my 3-year-old.
Those of you who know me in real life might be laughing right now. My mother will recall how I would stomp on a spider with a shoe, then take the shoe off and leave it where it was on the floor--for days, if no one else moved it--rather than pick it up and have to set eyes on the yucky (squished) arachnid underneath. My college roommate will recall how I had actual nightmares about bugs, so bad that I carefully placed three plastic glow-in-the-dark tree frogs on the posts of my bed in hopes that they would catch (and eat) the spiders that haunted my dreams. My husband will remember all the many, many times I have fetched him to kill a spider for me--even getting him up out of bed, if necessary--rather than deal with it himself.
And so, bearing all that in mind, I'll forgive you if you don't quite believe that first sentence of my post. That I used to be really scared of spiders. Which implies that I am not scared of spiders anymore.
And, OK, I won't be rushing out to throw a spider-lovers' party anytime soon, but I am here to tell you that I deal with those disgusting things SO MUCH better than I did in the past.
The reason? Motherhood.
It does funny things to you, having three little people looking to you for strength, protection and guidance all day long. I mean, Daddy isn't here during the daytime. What am I supposed to do when one of my kiddos shrieks that a spider is climbing up the wall next to her bed at naptime? Tell her to just lie still and ignore it until Daddy comes home? No, it's up to me to save the day.
And, speaking of childish shrieks, that's another reason--a major reason--that I summon all the courage I have when it comes to dispatching rogue insects. I really, really don't want to pass on my irrational fear of spiders to my children. I don't want them to get the idea--from watching me freak out about spiders--that spiders are something to be freaked out about.
If I want them to grow up to be brave, I'm going to have to show them what bravery looks like.
So I do my best to play it cool when I see a spider in the house. Do I ignore it? No. Do I tenderly capture it and set it free outside? No. Do I occasionally jump and go "Eww!" if it's a particularly big one? Yes. But in general, I think I do a good job of telling them, "Don't worry guys, it's just a spider," and then calmly (but hurriedly) squishing it with a shoe or a Kleenex.
And you know what? I think it's actually working.
The other day, I heard Lucy call, "Mom! There's a spider!"
"Okay, sweetie, I'm coming," I answered. But I was across the house from her. By the time I got to her bedroom, she was standing there calmly, and the spider was nowhere in sight.
"Where is it?" I asked, my wad of Kleenex ready for the death blow.
"Don't worry, mom," she told me. "I just squished it with my finger."
And she held out her hand. Indeed, there on the end of her finger was a very small, very dead spider.
"Wow, what a brave girl," I told her, suppressing my gag reflex and using the Kleenex to wipe bug guts off her hand.
"Yep, I know," she said, and skipped back off to play with Barbies and princesses.
What do you know. My spider-killing apprentices have actually moved on to dispatching arachnids with their bare hands.
I may somewhat less of a weeny when it comes to spiders than I used to be. But I don't think I'm ever going to be as hard-core as my 3-year-old.
6 comments:
My favorite way to get rid of them is with the vacuum....I don't have to get to close that way.
The other night I heard Hailey crying in bed, and since she had been in trouble for getting up and generally being annoying already I thought it was a ploy to lure me back into her bedroom to discuss some meaningless thing or another. I huff back to her room and shriek, "What?" She manages to sob out that there is a spider, and sure enough a BIG hairy one crawling up her wall. I snuffed it's little life out quickly and calmed her down and she was fine. But obviously I have not done as through of a job of exemplifying bravery as you have. Way to go my friend, you have arrived!
I'm in the *still* hating them club, but luckily I have a boy who will squish things. And strangely, a gilr who will pick most bugs up and take them outside. This is unusual for my "princess" ! I still call hubby if I see one though!
I actually chuckled out loud at the "proud mom" voice that was displayed while internally gagging. :) A wonderful illustration of motherhood!
Geoffrey loves monkeys. He thinks Curious George rocks. He has talked about getting a pet monkey in the future. Do you remember me telling you my fears? Yeah, monkeys were at the top of the list. Thank goodness, monkeys make few appearances on bedroom walls in our home.
Funny what kids will help you conquer! I haven't had to deal with that at home yet, but I have done the same thing at camp when the girls in my cabin are freaking out about a spider. Of course I too will never be as hardcore as your 3 year old!
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