Time Travel Tuesdays

Nicole at By Word of Mouth Musings has created a great link-up/blog hop called Time Travel Tuesdays. Each week she asks you to pull out an old post and link up. It's so much fun to read recycled posts of fellow bloggers.

I'd like to share a post from last week that probably shortened my life by about 14.95 years and certainly gave me more than my fair share of gray hair.  (For the record, believe me! Not Little Princess...)

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Irrational Fear

Apparently I am full of irrational fears.

It's amusing how once you birth children, the world becomes an amazingly dangerous place. Suddenly your child-less friend's living room is like a mine-field -- all those pointy, sharp corners on the coffee table; the fragile, glass knick-knacks that glitter and beckon to your wee one; the jagged stone fireplace base that screams stitches required for all forehead trippers; the tiny, precious bric-a-brac that would lodge perfectly in your child's throat if they are allowed to get it into their drooly mouth; the ever present flat screen TV that threatens to smoosh your wee one into nothing-nesss.  Well, today's story is nothing about those fears.

It's about something that is so much more realistic and likely to happen... an evil arachnid eating your face off as you innocently relieve yourself in the lavatory.

TRUE STORY!

Over the weekend, I went to sit down on our throne to simply pee. As I pulled my pants down and my dimply cheeks hit the toilet seat, I glanced to my immediate left at the bathroom vanity where the toilet paper dispenser thingy is. To my absolute horror, I saw THIS SPIDER.

The Evil Beast was sitting on top of the toilet paper preparing to launch itself at my poor, unsuspecting self -- and at one of my most vulnerable moments! I had my pants around my ankles.  I promise you, if I hadn't already been sitting on the porcelain throne, I would have wet myself right then and there!!!  I could tell The Spider was contemplating which part of my face was the most tasty, trying to decide if he should first go for my plump cheeks, or the whites of my eyeballs...  I was so frightened that I almost forgot how to scream. 

Mind you, I said ALMOST!

I let out an impressive blood-curdling scream that was truly worthy of a teeny-bopper meeting her end in a slasher horror flick.

I heard a stampede of tiny feet flinging their bodies towards the bathroom door to see what all the hullabaloo was about.  Little Man was the first to arrive.

While I pointed in terror at The Spider still happily occupying the top of the toilet paper roll, Little Man took one look and said, "Eww!" and then ran for the safety of my bedroom.

Diva was next to arrive on the scene.  She quickly spotted the intruder and shrieked, "Ann! Quick! Grab your pants!"  I was still so panic stricken that I had not moved a millimeter.

Little Princess barrels into the bathroom.  When she sees what we are all freaking about, she heaves a huge sigh, rolls her eyes and says, "Oh please! It's just a a tiny spider." With a quick flick of her wrist, she launches The Spider off the top of the toilet paper and throw the air AT ME!!!!!!!!

Insert another mind-blowing scream! Along with every limb I own flaying wildly around me.  My hair is flinging round my head, my arms and legs are doing the crappie flop as if I have been electrocuted or stung by a thousand bumble bees at once!!!

I don't need to share the rest of the story that may, or may not, include tripping myself with pants around my ankles, undies flying one direction and an even more undignified fall head first into the safety of the hallway. it will suffice to say -- It wasn't pretty.

But I am happy to report that I escaped The Spider unscathed. However, the sad news is, The Spider is still at large in my home!

Oh and for the record, apparently, Little Princess (age 5) says The Spider was only THIS BIG:

I ask you, my dear bloggy friends,
who are you going to believe?
The five-year old or ME?!?

Family Field Trip

We took a family field trip yesterday. I was frustrated with my local, usual Super Target so I thought I would be brave and go to the next closest Target. Unfortunately, the next closer Target took me to a somewhat undesirable locale on University Avenue. Let's suffice it to say that even if you are unfamiliar with my vast urban oasis -- otherwise known as St. Paul, MN -- that most stores on University Avenue in the Midway neighborhood of St. Paul are somewhat unsavory and unusually full of extremely "interesting" (euphemism: psychotic) characters.

For example, today I was fairly certain that one of the four of us was going to be kidnapped at Target. And to add to my terror, I’m pretty sure that "someone" was going to be yours truly, because, well, my children had lots of energy to spare and don’t really understand the concept of an inside voice. Plus, honestly, rowdy children do NOT make good kidnapping victims -- which left me... looking run-down, at my wits end, and a bit desperate. Also, I saw the way the dude with the beer-loving boxer shorts and no teeth was eyeing me from across the aisle. It was an “I want to eat your face” look (see picture). And not in a good way.

It started pretty much like any other trip to Target starts. With a list. String cheese. Paper Plates. Nail clipper. Water Bottles for kids sports. I popped Target into Google and found, I think, three in Wisconsin. How is that even possible? There were three Targets within ten minutes of my house in Minneapolis. Why didn't Google list any of the Targets on the east side of the river but three in an entirely different state? Google had the audacity to list five Walmarts in St. Paul! Have you ever tried to buy a toddler-sized container of cheese balls while buying artwork for your wall while buying tampons while buying a camera lens while buying the latest Hannah Montana bedding while buying gift wrap at Walmart? It can’t be done, is what I’m saying.

Okay, so it may be done at Walmart, but I really dislike that place.

I get it, Walmart. You are no longer hyphenated and you traded in your boring old star for some cartoon-ish sunshine smiley-faced thingy or something to make the housewives happier about shopping at your store, but I am not buying it! You are not Target. You will never be Target. No matter what my bloody Google tells me.

Anywho. Well, at Target Boutique I did manage to get a giant container of cheese balls. And deli meat. And water bottles. And a nail clipper. And two Little Critter books (because, seriously, if I have to read The Berenstain Bears one more time…) And pretzels. And gum. And a dress for Little Princess G that was on clearance.

But all of this was done in under, um, about 8 minutes! Why you ask? Because, well, in addition to the scary toothless man who wanted to eat my face, there were far too many policemen in one place for my liking. A policeman at every turn means there’s a need for a policeman at every turn, which, really, can never mean anything good. Right?!

And you know what else is never a good sign? When things like nail files and razors are locked behind glass cases. No ma’am.

I was hightailing it out of there. Quick. And deciding that I should reconsider the next time I want to take my family on a field trip to a "new" Target.