Big Giant Spider

Those of you who know me are probably aware that I am arachnophobic. I just looked up the definition of arachnophobia, and it is "an abnormal fear of spiders or other arachnids." Yep, that describes me perfectly. When I was growing up I was never very fond of spiders, but they didn't freak me out like they do now. My fear manifested while we were living in our first apartment in Pullman. We lived in a split level home, and Mark and I had the bottom of the house. Essentially our half was underground. And Pullman has lots of spiders. And I swear every stinkin' spider in Pullman managed to get into our house. And they were b.i.g. spiders. And one of them crawled through the chair rail that wrapped around our living room/kitchen area at midnight, and it was the size of a small cat. Oh. Dear. Lord. I freaked out. Evan was only a few weeks old, and I was certain the spider was going to crawl into the nursery and eat him (see... irrational!).

So, today. Evan just finished his bath downstairs, and I heard Jack waking up from his nap. I got Evan out of the bath, and I made my way upstairs to get Jack. Out of the corner of my eye I see this brown lump on the wall to the right of me. Yes, that my friends was the biggest &%$(#@ spider I have ever seen. On my wall. In my house. RIGHT BY MY HEAD.

I screamed and raced up stairs.

Evan, who was still downstairs, comes running and stops at the bottom of the stairs.

Ev: "Mommy, what's the matter?"

Me: "Nothing. Get the phone, please."

Ev: "Why?"

Me: "Because I asked you to." (There is no need to alert him of the spider, right?)

Ev: "Why?"

Me: "Please, Evan? And bring it up to me."

Ev: "Mommy, what's that brown spot on the wall?"

(Jack yells to be taken out of his crib)

Me: "A spider."

Ev: "That's a big freakin' spider, mommy." (Evan has learned the word "freakin' ". Fantastic.)

Me: "Yes, it is. Now go get the phone please."

Evan runs to get the phone.

Ev: "I can't go up those stairs. That spider will jump and get me." (My thoughts exactly.)

Me: "No it won't. Bring the phone to me please."

Ev: "No."

Me: "Please?"

Ev: "I will throw it up to you. That spider is scary."

Evan throws the phone up the stairs, and it falls back down to his feet.

On the second attempt the phone lands on the stairs. Two feet from the spider. Oh shit.

Me: "Evan, can you run up the stairs and grab the phone?"

Evan: "No."

Me: "But you're naked and you really need to get dressed. All your clothes are up here. Please come get the phone and get dressed."

Evan: "No."

Me: "But aren't you cold? Stay right next to the wall and and the spider won't get you."

Evan: "Fine... but I have to run."

Evan runs up the stairs practically in tears, and forgets to grab the phone.

I sit and stare at the spider, who hasn't moved in ten minutes. I finally get up enough courage to run half way down the stairs, grab the phone, and run back up the stairs.

I call Mark. Mark says he will come home and kill the spider, but he will beat me after beating the spider. I'm totally okay with that.

Except... what if the spider moves before Mark gets home and I can't find it?

So I ask Mark how to kill the spider from a distance. Spray something at it? Knock it down with a broom? Call the fire department and see if they will kill it? (I didn't actually ask Mark that question, mostly because he would laugh at me, but I sure thought about it).

We decide that knocking it off the wall with a broom and smashing it with a shoe was our best bet. I wouldn't have to get too close to the spider, and I wouldn't have to wait for Mark to get home and risk having the spider crawl away.

But I have to walk past the spider to go downstairs and get the broom & a shoe.

After a few minutes of preparing myself for The Run Down the Stairs, I go for it. Squealing the entire way, while on the phone with Mark (and yes, he is laughing at me).

Thankfully the spider didn't moved, and was still hiding behind the hand rail on the wall when I got back with my weapons. With the longest, most creepy spider legs I have ever seen. I'm getting goose bumps just thinking out it.

I tell Mark that I am going to kill the spider, and I am putting the phone down, but he is not to hang up; I need his support in all this.

Evan comes to the top of the stairs. "Mommy, are you going to kill that freakin' spider with that broom and that shoe?"

Me: "Don't say freakin'. Yes, I am going to kill the spider."

Evan: "Good luck."

Me: "Thanks. Go entertain your brother." (Jack is still in his crib, yelling at us.)

I walk up the stairs and aim the bristle end of the broom toward the spider. I don't want him to run, so I'm in stealth mode (i.e. I'm not breathing and about to faint), as I knock the spider off the wall and on to the stairs. Then I start screaming because the damn thing actually jumped.

I crawl up the stairs to where I think the spider landed, but the spider is the exact color of our carpet and is hard to spot. But there he is. I whack him with my shoe, and he jumps. I start screaming and pounding my shoe on the stairs while Mr. Spider jumps around trying to avoid the shoe. Scream. Thump. Jump. Scream. Thump. Jump. Until I nail him three or four times and he is no longer moving.

I thump him a couple more times to make sure he is really, really dead, then I put my almost-new purple tennis shoe over him. I don't want his dead body moving, and I sure as hell am not picking him up. Mark can take care of the corpse when he gets home.

Then I start to cry.

I picked up the phone, and tell Mark that I finished him off, and Mark says he heard everything. And he starts laughing at me. After a few minutes of deep breathing my blood pressure begins to normalize and I hang up the phone. I really need to rescue my kid from his crib, and feed everyone some lunch. This whole fiasco has taken almost an hour, and it is well past lunch time at this point.

While I'm changing Jack's diaper, Evan looks at me and says: "Thanks for killing that freakin' spider Mommy. It was really scary."

No problem, buddy. Anytime.