Friday, August 24, 2012

Battle with Gigantors

I, like I assume 99% of the universe, hate spiders. Haaaate them. And I know they are good in some way, like eating a lot of other bugs. But really? I don't have a problem with other bugs. Spiders are pretty much the worst for me. I think I'd rather find (harmless) snakes in my house. I mean at least you can keep an eye on those. If you don't kill a spider when you have the chance, it disappears and then you have to spend the next four days or so worrying where he's going to pop up again.

I wish I wasn't afraid of spiders, like my husband. 

I'm all, "Ohmygod, ohmygod get down here right now right now right nowwwww. Quickly please, really quick!"

He's all "why?"

"There's a spideerrrr!" Voice shaking, heart racing, goosebumps.

He's all- move as slow as you possible could in a life and death situation like this. Then he just smacks them with his bare hand. Even if it's one of those big, meaty ones ("That was a juicy one," he'll say.)

It's totally great to have him around. Except I think all the spiders issue some sort of alert when he leaves the house. Rambo has left the building!

Last week I was cuddled up in the couch under a blanket. I got up to rearrange the blanket, fluffed it up and out creeps gigantor. He's looking right at me, ready to kill. So while maintaining eye contact (I would have had to move and get all new things if I lost track of this one) I grabbed Henry's toy guitar and went all BAM BAM on his butt. Henry was laughing at my squeals. And then he went up to him and smacked him a few more times with his toy remote. Like we were playing some sort of funny game. 

Here's hoping he takes after Mark.

I left that one on the blanket and Henry and I played upstairs until Mark could get home to dispose of the body. Even he was impressed with it's size.

So then later that same day, there was another Gigantor hiding under one of Henry's toys in the bath tub. As in, where I shower. I drowned that one. Then poured some chemicals and really hot water down the drain because I was worried that maybe I didn't kill him and he would come up from the drain and attack me. (I took a picture of this one. But I am purposely not posting it because then I have to look at it.)

Now I don't mind killing a spider now and then. It's inevitable, unless, I imagine, you move somewhere that is extremely cold all time. Which may be worth it, but I don't think my family would be on board. But the occasional spider is usually sort of wispy, or small, and I can totally handle that. But these spiders were huge and brown and freaking scary. I have goosebumps thinking about them as I'm trying to come up with the best adjectives.

I totally called Orkin. And I hadn't seen a spider since. Orkin tells you if you do, they will come right back out. And they probably will regret that statement, because so help me I will call them every freaking day. 

Cue this morning. There was another Gigantor waiting for me, trying to be all sneaky and blend in with the carpet. He was stock still, and I thought maybe I got lucky and he died of a heart attack. So I do what you should never do and I blew on him. Cue creepy spider escape. I grabbed the guitar again (so handy!) and smashed him as I listened to Henry laugh.

And then maybe 20 minutes later there was an already dead one under a rug in the kitchen. It could also have been a clump of dirt with 8 strategically located legs, but let's be honest, I'm not getting that close. I'm thankful he was already dead, but what if I crushed him with a bare foot? Ugh.

Orkin's coming Monday. I'm trying to look on the bright side for now. In the battle with the Gigantors it's 4-0 in my favor. 

And in the meantime, I am totally open to any tricks to keep my house spider free. Ready, go!

Thursday, August 23, 2012

Life Lessons: Sense of Humor

As a parent there are a million life lessons I want to teach my children.

Always wear your seatbelt.


Be kind.

Don't drink and drive.

Respect everyone.

Of course some lessons are very serious. Some are harder to teach than others.

But personally? One of the things I want to instill in my children above all else isn't some serious life lesson.

At the very least, I just want my children to have a sense of humor.

Because a sense of humor, the ability to smile, laugh and enjoy life is SO important. But how do you teach something like that?

Well, I don't know. But I think it's definitely one of those lead-by example things. And I must be doing something right, because Henry started doing the funniest thing.

It started at the kitchen table. If something funny would come up, and Mark and I started laughing, Henry would, too.  Then he started doing the same thing when we had visitors.

And let me tell you, I've never seen a better example of "laughter is contagious." We laugh... Henry laughs, we laugh at his laughing. Honestly? Dinner at our house is just a really good time.

And now he does it all the time. If a group of people is laughing, not even in his general direction... his blue eyes light up and he'll laugh too. He may not understand the jokes yet, but he still laughs. And I love every second.

So, kids, if you're listening, don't take life to seriously. Have a sense of humor, enjoy life, and laugh... just never at anyone's expense, okay?

Friday, August 17, 2012

Toddlers Help Us Appreciate the Little Things

I'm on a work trip this weekend. Today was my travel day. Because you need a whole day for that you know.

You have to be at the airport 2 hours early because you never know which color the man behind the curtain will set the terrorist threat to, or how many people in front of you will argue about taking their shoes off because they live in a free country and they want to keep their shoes on. Or there could be a woman or two who throws a grown up tantrum tornado because you're taking all of her hair products. I mean in all fairness, how will she survive?

And there's usually a drive through the city. If it's two hours either way within rush hour you have to allow extra time. You know, just in case. God forbid someone gets pulled over on the other side of the highway. Let's all slow down to 5 in a 70 to look because maybe it's Elvis.

All in all it ends up being 10 hours or so, to get you somewhere it only takes 2 hours of actually flying time to get to.

But you know what? Since it's a work trip I was solo, and this travel day felt like a week's worth of vacation. I jammed to Call Me Maybe (not the cookie monster version) on the way to the airport. Sure it came on three times in an hour, but I'm alright with that because I didn't have to bribe a toddler with Puffs once to keep him happy and relatively quiet in the back.

I smiled at everyone in line at the airport. I'm having a great day. They should be too! I smiled extra at those women or couples with babies. That sounds nice. Like I smiled at them in a "Oh, I've been there" kind of way. You know, "Keep your chin up." Except I wasn't smiling at them in that way. I was smiling them in the "Nananana Booboo my baby is at home with his Dad and Grammy and I'm here all by myself" sort of way. (I'm sure Karma will make me pay for that later, though.)

I caught up on emails while waiting for my plane. I also counted three babies and a handful of old people on my flight, so there were no worries about a plane crash.

I peed without a toddler trying to simultaneously lift the toilet seat and stick his toothbrush in it.

I read on the plane. For an hour straight. Uninterrupted. (At this point I feel like I should admit to you that I was reading Fifty Shades #2. For the first five minutes. But then I start to feel awkward... reading that in public you know. What if the man next to me glances over at my Kindle? So I switched to Jenny Lawson's Let's Pretend This Never Happened. Which is absolutely hysterical. A laugh out loud kind of funny. Not awkward at all on a plane full of strangers.)

Then I cleaned out my email from over 800 to less than 100 emails. This has been an ongoing battle since July 15, 2012. Coincidentally, the day Henry was born.

I made small talk with the cab driver, who clearly had no interest in making small talk with me. But he managed. His vocabulary included words other than: dada, mama, juice, dog and other random syllables.

I checked into the hotel with the help of a woman named Vanity. Because you should totally name your child that.

I set up the booth for the show I'm working. No one requested to be picked up, put down, picked up, put down and picked up again.

I had an uninterrupted dinner, that lasted an hour. And no one threw food on the floor. (Side note: My waiter could not have been drinking coffee in that cup. I ordered salad, soup and a glass of wine. He brought me the salad. And that's all. I ordered three things and you only remember me ordering one? Also it was only me at dinner and only one other table with people who were already eating. So he could not have simply been confused.)

I worked out, and it didn't involve pushing a stroller. I even ran a bit and enjoyed it. So, look out for flying pigs.

And now I'm blogging with no errant taps on the keyboard from a chubby little hand.

Do you see where I'm going with this? Before Children, travel days were horrible. But now, I feel like I just took on the world!

Toddlers really help us appreciate the little things, don't they?

And to finish off this tremendous day, I'm about to get eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. So, if you'll excuse me...