Friday, October 12, 2012

Hide Your Kids. Hide Your Wives.

I'm not a bug lover.  I'm not even a bug liker.  I go to great lengths to avoid them and to avoid killing them.  I want them dead but I'm too scared to kill them myself.  Growing up I'd spray them with mousse so they would be trapped and unable to attack me and then beg someone else to kill them.  Later in life I would place cups or bowls over bugs or spiders and leave a Post It note that said, "There is a spider in here."  Yeah.  I was 23.  I did that at work.  As recently as a few weeks ago I texted my neighbor and offered to pay her $5 if she came down and killed a spider.  It's a problem I have.
But... uh... I'm nursing Joey the other day and one of those earwicks (or is it earwigs... I've never known) is climbing up the wall!  Gross!  Kole saw it and smashed it with his bare hand.  He thought it was "awesome."  I thought it "awesome" that I could use Koley to kill bugs for me!  Never thought of that. 
So, one little earwick no big deal. 
A bird feeder was left here and Koley loves to watch the birds (a habit he picked up from Big Grandpa George.) I picked up some bird food for him to feed the birds and we went to fill the feeder up.  Uh... there was like a beehive honeycomb thing IN the feeder.  There were a couple of bees on it but it didn't look like they were moving.  I'm not much of a risk taker so I made up some story about giving the bees a chance to pack up and move out before we fed the birds.  Two days later, Kole was still begging to feed the birds and those bees had not moved.  At all.  They had to be dead.  When Kole went down for his nap I got a broom and unhooked the feeder filled with old bee hives and carried it over to the garbage can... keeping it a safe 5 and a half feet away from me.  Well, I eventually had to open it to dump the dead bees out.  I opened it and jumped back.  Which was a good move.  Because the bees weren't dead.  Or maybe they were zombie-bees  because they came right back to life.  And started creeping around the inside of the feeder.  Lifting their scary wings and buzzing in unison.  I know they were chanting danger calls to get other bees to attack me.  It took about 25 minutes but I eventually got the three bees off the feeder.  I tried moving the feeder with the broom over and over and they just crawled right a long the side... like those lumberjacks that run on logs.  It was terrifying.  Once they were off the feeder I left it on the driveway and went inside to recompose myself and let my heart return to a normal pace.  By the next day I felt it was safe to access the feeder.  Kole and I filled it, hung it back on it's post, and not a single bird has shown up.
2 mornings ago I opened the floor length curtains over the back sliding door to let that morning country light in and Kole started his normal, "Good morning trees!  Good morning grass!  Good morning..." he was about to say bushes when a big old black spider made it's way out of the curtains towards Kole's head!  I screamed and pushed him out of the way.  The spider fell and I instinctively stomped on it 25 or 30 times.  Then vacuumed it up.  Just in case. The things we do to protect our kids, huh?  Kole cried because I pushed him "for no good reason."  Pa-LEASE!  No good reason?  If it weren't for me he would have had a spider in his hair.  All day.  Because there was no way I was going to pick it out.  It probably would have made a little hair web and laid spider eggs in there.  Psht.  No reason?  Whatever!  Ungrateful kid.
I was taking some trash out and on my way back in I noticed the biggest hobo spider ever was perched on the window pane by my front door.  Being the peacemaker I am, I walked around and used the back door.  From the inside I sprayed the cracks by the door with insect repellent... because spiders always use the door right?  I mean especially country spiders with all that country charm.    Later, me and the boys had to go to the store to pick up some milk.  The front door was obviously off limits with that spider perched there. So, I told Kole we'd go through the back yard.  He wasn't opposed.  So, we're walking through the grass and I am feeling good about not having to see that disgusting spider when I look down and what do I see?  A snake.  Kole sees it too and he's all scared.  His voice gets shaky and he asks, "Mom?  What's that?"
In my head I am going, Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh.  A snake. A snake.  A snake.  What do I do?  What do I do?  What do I do?
Out loud I say, "Hey look!  A little snake.  Hello, Mr.  Snake.  What are you doing by our house?  You need to go to your house!"
Again in my head going, "A snake.  Oh my gosh.  What do I do?  Red touches black... you're dead jack?  Red touches yellow you're a dead fellow?  You die either way?  What about green touching black?  Or is that light green and dark green? I think you die either way.  Oh my gosh.  What do I do?  A snake.  A snake.  A snake."
Kole looks at me.  I smile so he smiles and says, "Yeah.  Go to your house, Snake!"  Kole starts ducking down to get close to it.
"Give him some space, Koley.  He's probably just trying to figure out how to get home."
"Yeah.  You're right Mom.  Give him some space."
"That's right.  And remember, he's more afraid of us then we are of him."
And you know, when I said that, I realized that that is a lie parents tell their kids.
The snake did slither away after a few seconds and I ran to the car and locked all the doors.  You know, just in case that snake tried opening the handles.
He came back to play trucks with Koley later that day.
At least that's the lie I told Kole.
This picture was safely taken behind glass doors.
If only I spoke Parseltongue.

It seems like I have seen the worst of it.
Or at least that's what I thought until yesterday when I was outside playing hide and seek with Kole and I spotted this:

Not Joey's hand prints I can tell you that!  Could be Chimera.  Or Chupacabra.
Pray for us.


Anonymous said...

That, dear lady, is a raccoon print.

Kar said...

Hahaha! You're so funny. You were wise to avoid the hobo. Those things are aggressive. We had a hobo problem in our house where I grew up. They liked our basement, which is where Nat and I had our rooms. It was us vs. the hobos. Full-out warfare. I still have PTSD from it...

Juli said...

You need to move to MA where there are no poisonous snakes (that I know of) and our spiders rarely get bigger than your thumb nail.

The raccoon, yeah can't help you with that though. We had a whole family at our garage door once, turned to look at me pulling up in the car as if to say "Excuse me, can I help you?" I swear he would have done a tap dance for me had I not gunned the engine and aimed right for him. :)

Lyner said...

Pretty sure it is earwig...and I hate allllll spiders and bugs and reptiles! YUCK

Israel Gonzales said...

Lmao good things snakes don't have hands