alone in the wild

so as i embarked on my newfound freedom, i realized that i must endure (and overcome) longtime fears i had kept deep inside me. what fears you ask? fear of bugs.

now i am a self proclaimed 'girly-girl' which simply put means i like make-up, purses (expensive ones, okay - coach ones if you MUST know), nail polish and many other girly things. the thing i loathe most, however is... BUGS!

being on my own, i had to overcome this fear that consumed me. so on one of my early nights solo in my new apartment, i came face to face with the dreaded beast.

i had matilda in tow and we had just finished grocery shopping for the week. i've gotten pretty good at balancing multiple bags, my expensive purse AND my child all in one trip... until i saw him.

there before me sat a man with a body longer than anything i had ever seen.. legs equally as long, he had eight of them you know. he sat right outside my door almost taunting me to approach him. now i've always envisioned myself living in a building with a doorman, but i'd rather hoped for someone more like the guy from 'the jefferson's'.

i froze. dead in my tracks for i had never encountered such a fierce creature.. not on my own anyway. i pondered what to do. i had on open toed shoes so stepping on him wasn't an option. i decided to name him. naming him made him more like a pet. a pet you don't much like, but you have anyway... i called him herman. seemed like a strong, manly name and since he rivaled the size of 'herman munster' i figured it'd work.

herman didn't move from his post. i had no idea what to do but protect myself and my offspring. then the voices came to me. no not angels from heaven, two teen-aged girls from the apartment above me. they came gigging down the stairs and i knew they were my only hope.

i sucked up my pride, asked for help and one of them had the nerve to say, 'what spider?' as i directed her to herman, she screamed louder than even i did... i knew they were useless... then another voice beckoned from above. their mother. surely she would identify with my situation... being a mother myself, who needs to protect her child, surely she would come to my rescue.

she, the brave woman, was armed with a heavy bag of trash. which was our only means of attack. she walked over to herman, we all held our breath as she pummeled the bag onto his massive body. i watched in amazement as she twirled the bag around in cirlces almost guaranteeing death. she gave it one last good twist and slowly lifted the bag. our eyes grew wide at what lied beneath...

now after all that drama, i had expected to find a detached leg, a severed head, anything, but instead, he was intact, just curled up slightly more. he had met his maker. and i, sadly felt better and safer knowing he could no longer bother me.

i thanked my accomplices, who i'm certain think i'm crazy. we scooted past was was left of herman and i ushered matilda into our apartment, safe and sound.

as we fell asleep that evening, i could have sworn i heard taps being played by all the other wolf spiders in the neighborhood.

changing of the roll

while pondering what to blog... it came to me. i shared this story with my friend lyn... she laughed obsessively and i think anyone who reads this will too.

the other night my daughter, matilda, decided she would be a big girl and change the roll of toilet paper. i was proud that she was eager to try and also because frankly, i hate doing it. so in she goes... she comes out with the grand announcement.. 'mommy! come see what i did.' now up until walking in there, i truly did not know she had changed the roll. you see she decided to take it upon herself to do this. i, myself, wasn't even aware the roll was empty. (yes, the plot thickens)

i walk in and she's in her 'ta-da!' mode and i'm looking around helplessly trying to figure out what it is that she's so proud of... poor thing has to point to the new fat roll of bum paper. i smile and give her double high-fives on her achievement. she giggles proudly and we return to dinner.

the next day we get home, i change my clothes, start dinner and she begins to play... then goes to potty. not a normal potty, and no, not the diarrhea, normal number 2 quality. i hear the flush... the fatal flush as it will now be known. she comes out, 'mommy, the potty won't flush.' knowing i have no plunger, no husband and a possibly clogged commode - i walk slowly uncertain of what awaits me.

i assume she didn't push the handle down far enough... so i, in my infinent wisdom, flush it again.. full throttle - indeed, it doesn't flush. then, as if my life was flashing in my head all at once, i remember the sounds that pre-empted the whole roll changing event the evening prior. i remembered hearing the roll rattle as it was quickly depleted. and i turn to my beautiful daughter and calmly say, 'baby, how much toilet paper did you use?' her answer was the famous 'i don't know', and for some reason i asked again, with a little more aggression... same answer.

so then, i realized what i had to do... i had her sit in the living room while i mentally prepared myself for the task at hand. she went, tail between her legs and i sat on the floor in front of the porcelain god. pondering what to do next.

apartment office: closed. husband/signifant other present: nope. plunger: we know that answer. what was left? my hands - yes, but i couldn't bring myself to use them. there was number 2 in the potty after all.

then the light bulb went off in my head.. flickering ever so softly - a spoon! use a spoon! so i did. here i am, sitting on the cold tile floor, in front of the potty fishing out numerous wads of what was once angel soft toilet paper. i was extra careful to NOT fish out number 2 items. and once i unclogged the softball size wad of paper... EUREKA! it flushed.

fear not folks, i tossed the spoon that same evening.

initiation

they say women peak in their 30's. who 'they' are, i have no idea, but 'they' say it so it must be true. i'm 33 1/2 and i, myself, am just starting to realize who it is that i truly am.

i've lost about 300 pounds over the last year... 30lbs due to my own personal weight loss goal, while the remaining amount came from me breaking free from a not-so-happy relationship, okay marriage. am i getting too personal here? well, it's my blog so deal with it. :)

can a woman, a single mother (i don't know about you, but anytime i hear the phrase 'single mother' i immediately remember the 'shoplift the pooty' scene from jerry maguire) of a toddler recreate her life the way she always hoped it would be? i have no idea, but i'll die trying, THAT i can tell you.

welcome to the prime of my life...