I HATE SPIDERS!

I sent my husband a text message today even while I knew he was in staff meeting: "I admit it: I ABSOLUTELY HATE SPIDERS!"

Yes, I know this confession is not an emergency 911 call for many of you, causing you to stop, drop, and roll, but for those who don't know me very well, here's the news flash: I am absolutely, confidently, and certainly reliably freaked out over SPIDERS - not the tiny ones, but the big fat fast wolf spiders!

I've not always been this way. When the boys were young and watching me ever so closely, I was cool about spiders and would gulp down my hesitency just to make a good impression on the boys. I'd kill the darn ugly thing without them ever knowing my inner caution, but now that they're older and I can simply call for any of them to come to my rescue, I hardly ever kill a spider! There always seems to be someone available to rescue me!

Well...not today. Before getting showered and dressed for the day today, I ventured down to the basement to make sure the sump pump was working properly after all the rain we've had over the past two days. I bent over, touched the tip of the plunger that rises and then causes a trigger to empty the sump, but the tip of this lever suddenly moved, startling me. It was a small wolf spider trying to get out of my way, and I screamed! I decided to just let the sump pump do it's thing, turned around to exit the small unfinished part of our basement, and there was another spider, a bit larger than the first. Startled, I screamed again. Then - the monster of them all - a ginormous wolf spider right near the door where the baseboard meets the wall. It was huge! I screamed yet again, performed a little temper-tantrum, tried to think of a way to claw through the wall board to the room next door so I didn't have to get so close to the darn ugly thing near the door, then called for the dog who likes to bite and kill the spiders. Jacki-wacki didn't see the stupid arachnid despite all my pointing ("No, not my finger...Over there, dog!"), so I ran through the door. It definitely was less painless to run through the open door then to stand there watching the gross thing and yelling at the dog to turn around and sniff higher (as if she understand English!!!) AGH! I wasn't wearing shoes to stomp on any of the spiders. I was alone so there was no boy to help me kill 'em.

Once safely back upstairs, I wrote Greg the confession over a text message and reminded myself that the pest control sprayer was coming later in the week.

When Cameron, my 15-year old, got home from school, I bribed him with money to go back down to the basement to find any and all spiders and kill them ($.10 per spider). He and my nearly 13-year old son, Isaac, did just that. I think I talked my way out of paying him money by agreeing to make his favorite dessert. Haven't heard what that dessert will be but it's gonna be extra sweet for this precious boy who isn't afraid of spiders, and loves to protect his momma.

BTW - after I encouraged the boys to move all the furniture in the basement to make sure no spiders were lurking underneath, waiting to come out when we're down there watching movies, he did find a small, dead brown recluse. YIKES!

I don't use the word hate very often...but I definitely, absolutely, confidentally HATE SPIDERS!