Do I have some sort of sign that floats above my head that says ALL BUGS COME TO THIS ONE?  I don’t understand.  Let me set the scene for you.  Eric and I took Charlie girl to the mall on Sunday and then we went to eat at the Grand Luxe Cafe.  Very delicious establishment, but that isn’t the point.  I was in the middle of feeding Charlotte her mashed potatoes when she decided it was time to poop.  Because isn’t that just how it always goes?  So I gathered my belongings to change her in the bathroom, which is always a nightmare in and of itself.  Can we PLEASE get some changing tables in the men’s room so women don’t always have to do this?  POR FAVOR?!  Anyway, off to the bathroom we go, which has dim lighting, something that is really just no conducive to a restroom if you ask me.  Especially when you have to change a writhing baby who just wants to face plant to the floor.  So I wipe down the changing table, put my changing pad down and lay down Charlotte, prepared to get this shit over with (no pun intended, har har) and get back to my grilled cheese.

And what do we fucking have here.  The itsy bitsy spider crawled up the wall directly next to the changing table and GOD FUCKING HELL THIS ISN’T SO ITSY FUCKING BITSY.  Why does this keep happening to me?  And always with my child?  I picked her up so fast and tried to plot out my next move as this monstrous hell beast continued it’s ascent of the wall.  I took my boot off, because putting my foot on the floor of a public restroom seemed like a great idea at the time.  I tried to swat at it but I couldn’t, because I was crippled with fear.  I thought to myself JUST GET PAPER AND SQUISH IT, but obviously couldn’t do that.  Could I leave Charlotte with a shit diaper all throughout dinner?  I could, right?  I open the door and see another mom with her two kids waiting to use the stall with the changing pad.  And then I told her there was a giant spider climbing the wall, and could she please handle this for me before I change my baby?  What a saint this woman was.  She put her child on the floor and came in and squished that bug like it was her goal in life.  I told her that I haven’t reached the level of motherhood yet in which I can kill bugs to save my child.  She laughed at me and said it wasn’t a problem at all, but she definitely was thinking what a crazy fucking loony tune I was.  Which just goes to prove to me that my theory of always needing another adult around is paramount to success.  I may be a mother but I still don’t think I’m an adult.  I always need someone adult-ier to handle the shit I can’t handle.  Like the spider from hell sent here to torment my days.  So thank you, stranger mother.  Thank you for saving me and Charlotte from certain death.

And P.S.  There wasn’t even any fucking poop in her diaper.  ALL THAT FOR NOTHING.

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