I am not a bug person. They creep me out and I don’t enjoy killing them, seeing them scurry across my floor or even generally looking at them. But if need be, I will man up and take care of biznass.
Except for centipedes. I truly cannot bring myself to kill one. If I see one climbing up a wall, I will force Derek to kill it. It was part of the deal when he married me.
“For better or worse, for richer or poorer, to kill centipedes for me…”
God forbid he’s not home when I spot a centipede. Honestly, I usually just pretend I didn’t see it and then head into a different room.
About a month ago, I was feeding Riley in his room at 3 a.m. I could hear Derek snoring through the wall. And then I spotted it. A ginormous centipede was creeping up the wall right next to the rocker where I and my precious baby sat, completely defenseless. I perched myself on the corner of the rocker, farthest away from the bug and quietly whimpered. I knew there was no way I was going to stop feeding Riley to kill a centipede. It was 3 a.m. and I was groggy and just wanted to hurry up and feed him so I could get back in bed.
But then that damn centipede crawled all over the room, including on the ceiling right above me. I kept watching it because I was afraid it would fall on me.
And then I heard the best sound ever – Derek waking up and walking into the bathroom. Score! I knew he would’ve killed me dead if I had woken him up at 3 a.m. to kill a centipede. But if he woke up on his own, he couldn’t be mad! He peeked his head in to see how things were going and I silently pointed to the centipede. He rolled his eyes and came back with a wad of papertowels. Hooray!!
However, this weekend, we were laying in bed on a rainy Sunday morning and Lola started whining that she wanted to go outside. So I got up and let her out of our bedroom, but she stopped in the hallway and started tracking and sniffing at something in the hall. I turned on the light and DAMMIT! It was a centipede. Their legs look like hair. It’s. So. Gross.
So the pleading began. “Derek, please get up and kill it.” “No, you can do it. Just smash it.” “I can’t!!!” Finally, I caved and grabbed a shoe.
I then stood there squealing for the next five minutes. The centipede was patient and stayed in one spot. Lola realized she wasn’t getting outside any time soon so she gave up and laid down in the hallway.
After what seemed like 45 minutes squealing and writhing in the hallway, shoe in hand, I took a deep breath and smacked the centipede.
It didn’t die. It scurried off the wall onto the floor and tried to make a break for it. I screamed, I squealed, I “eeeewwwed”, but I smacked it a few more times and it died.
And the best part of conquering my fear of centipedes is that while I was having a minor mental breakdown, my sweet little three month old baby was laying there laughing his cute little head off.
I’m not so sure about this raising a boy thing after all…


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One response to “Conquered

  1. Pingback: Yuck « AWholeNotherStory

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