AnchorMommy

Lessons in fear

March 31, 2011 by Shannon

Have I ever told you about my biggest fear? No? Oh geez…I can’t believe this hasn’t come up before. Well, it just so happens that I turn into a complete maniac at the sight of a spider. Yep, arachnophobia. I’ve got it bad.

To illustrate the height of my phobia, let me tell you what I had to resort to while living by myself. When I would see one of the horrid little creatures in my apartment, I would vacuum it. I used to toss the hose attachment at it, hoping the machine would suck it in. Then my boyfriend (now husband) pointed out that they can just crawl out of the vacuum. Uhh….right. So then I started dropping heavy books on them, like a phone book, and leaving them there until the weekend when my boyfriend-now-husband would come to visit and clean it up for me. I can’t even bear the sight of a dead spider. Once, I tried to be brave and sprayed one with a foaming cleaner to try to kill it, thinking I would then grit my teeth and clean it up after it died. It didn’t die. The foam made it look as if it doubled in size, and it continued to creep around. (Oh dear lord….I get freaked out just thinking about that incident.) I’ve even been through aversion therapy for this spider phobia, which helped for a while, but now I’m back to my shrieking, horrified self anytime I’m in the presence of something with eight legs.

Where am I going with this? Bear with me here.

So as a mom, you want to be strong for your kids, right? You want to show them what bravery looks like. And when you’re not feeling strong, at the very least, you want to show them how to take a deep breath and carry on. Of course.

Well, here’s what my display of bravery looked like this week, when I picked up a costume off of Kellan’s floor and came face-to-face with a nightmarishly large, very black, very frightening spider:

1. I dropped that costume like a hot potato.
2. I let out a high-pitched scream that very nearly reached a decibel level that can only be heard by dogs.
3. I shrieked again as the disgusting – and fast – insect scurried around on the floor at my feet.
4. In one continuous move, I gulped, jumped to avoid the running spider near my toes, scooped Ella off the floor so it wouldn’t attack her, and clutched at Kellan’s arm to pull him with me as I ran for the door.

Once we were all safely in the doorway, the tears came. Not mine, thankfully…by this point, with my heart nearly beating out of my chest, I realized that my terrorized response probably horrified my kids. And I was right. They both started sobbing, so I did my best to comfort them and pretend that what just happened was no big deal. Tough to do, after that kind of screaming.

But I couldn’t just leave that little devil running around Kellan’s room. Once we all composed ourselves, I spotted it, dropped a laundry basket on it, and gave the basket one firm stomp with my foot. Kellan, bless his little heart, was quite happy to wipe up the flattened thing, while I tried not to visibly shudder at the sight of its separated legs clinging to the tissue. GROSS.

I’m not proud of my childish phobia, but I am proud of one thing: I didn’t run and leave my kids in there. Seriously. I’ve always kind of wondered what I would do in this kind of situation. Now I know. I know I will scream as if I’ve seen a dead body, grab my kids, and run. Not the best lesson in bravery. But perhaps they’ll learn a thing or two about how to scream. Like, really really scream. That’ll serve them well if they ever want to star in a horror film or enter a screaming contest.

See? I’m only trying to prepare them for their future.