Part of being a mother is putting the needs of someone else over your own, right? Yea well two nights ago I did just that. Let me set the scene.
Monday night. 7:30 PM. Baby asleep in crib, husband asleep in bedroom. Husband is on overnight shift, so he must sleep whenever he can. Mommy (me) in the kitchen, cutting up chicken for the week and preparing my lunch. Having a hard root beer (FUCKING DELICIOUS) and enjoying the quiet time to myself. Mommy turns to put the Tupperware containers of chicken into the fridge and prepare to watch a little TV with the delicious hard root beer.
AND THEN. I see movement under the fridge. I SEE MOVEMENT. I see QUICK, AGILE MOVEMENT and I begin to sweat from head to toe. IS IT A GIANT SPIDER? WHAT IS IT? I am silently asking the God that has forsaken me. And then I realize it is a fucking cricket. If there’s anything worse than a spider, or a roach, it’s a cricket. Jiminy Cricket this bastard is not. I literally leap out of the kitchen and run to grab the swiffer from the closet. Oh, did I mention the chicken is on the floor now? Because it is. Once I grab the swiffer I try to squish it quickly, but because it’s a cricket and all that fucker moves faster than light and now I’m afraid it’s INSIDE THE REFRIGERATOR. So now I am texting my own mother, debating how bad this needs to get before I wake up Eric. I know that I need to get this cricket on my own because now all I can think of is this little shit going into Charlotte’s crib and having cricket babies in there and attacking her as she sleeps. YOU SEE GUYS. THIS IS HOW I KNOW I AM A MOTHER. I know I need to kill this insect because I don’t want it to be all up on my baby. If there was no baby in this equation I would have ran out of the god damn house and let Eric deal with this shit on his own.
Jiminy is not inside the fridge and I see him come on out once again. He’s moving slowly now, probably because he knows his murderer is on the prowl. My mom tells me to find something to spray at it, but because I keep all of my chemicals IN THE KITCHEN this isn’t going to work. Then I remember my emergency stash of Febreze. I grab the bottle and I spray until my hand cramps up. When I tell you there is a puddle of Island Fresh smelling liquid all over the god damn floor I mean it. Jiminy is drunk and can’t move quickly any longer, so I take this opportunity to squish the bastard with the swiffer and I left it there until Eric woke up.
I sat on my couch staring at this, drinking my root beer, waiting to see if the cricket would somehow get out and become a zombie cricket. I may have gotten a little high off the fumes of half a bottle of Febreze on the floor. But this just proves how far I’ve come in my life. The mommy me protected her cub from the insect from hell. Before Charlotte I would have just lit my kitchen on fire and called it a day. PROGRESS, PEOPLE. PROGRESS.