I do not like spiders. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Unfortunately Seattle is home to a wide range of these vile little beasts. Granted, the chances any of the myriad spiders I encounter are poisonous are very slim, so that's a plus. Even so, their freaky, creepy legs and general existence are enough to scare the piss out of me. Figuratively at least, I have not yet actually wet myself at the sight of a spider, but I can't completely rule it out in the future. At one point I seriously considered selling my car when an especially giant spider went missing in my vehicle. But as a mom I have other responsibilities. I've tried to hold my screaming in when I encounter a spider if the boys are near. I don't want them to catch my arachnophobia due the size and severity of my reaction, but I really don't have all that much control over it.
Anyhow, in our crappy summer weather here in Seattle, today required coats. It was raining as we left the house this morning and on the porch on our way to school, the coats needed to be put on. Big Dog had slipped into his rain jacket and I was fumbling with Little Dog's winter coat since I couldn't find his lighter weight water resistant jacket when I felt something on my arm. It turn out the coat I'd pulled from the back of the coat hooks where it had hung undisturbed all summer had a passenger, a huge black spider the size of a pygmy goat, clinging to the hood. In my attempts to ready the jacket to be worn, I'd disturbed this monster and it decided to climb down my arm. What was I to do? I screamed. A loud, girly, shrieky scream. I also shook and squirmed in a full body shiver as I lost sight of the beast, fearing that every little brush against my skin was the legs of this giant gorilla of a spider. I finally spotted him on the porch floor and he met his end at the bottom of my shoe. I stomped a few extra times just to be sure.
The boys watched in wonder. Mr. Dog came running from inside the house to ask what happened. Again, trying to hide my fear from the boys, I spelled it out for Mr. Dog, "S-P-I-D-E-R!" I said, still squirming at the memory of the legs brushing against my skin.
"Where is it?" said Big Dog, reminding me that the spelling-shit-out trick doesn't work when your kid can read. Dammit.
"Don't worry about it. It's gone," I said as calmly as possible.
"What was it mama?" asked Little Dog.
"Nothing," I replied, trying to usher the boys the the car.
"Then why did you do this?" he asked, and started his own little shimmy shake of a dance, complete with girly squeals and stomps as a mischievous grin spread across his impish face.
Then Mr. Dog started laughing. Sometimes I feel like they're ganging up on me. Including the spider.
Pasta ala Fridge
4 years ago