This. Means. War.

I once catapulted myself up onto the burners of the kitchen stove to avoid the path of a very large spider. It was in a rental house during college. I'd have to draw you a diagram to explain how this was physically possible. But for now, rest assured that it was quite the contortionist feat. Made possible by intense fear, combined with my blessed instinct of flight (not fight).

Another time, I gunned it into a parking lot, shoved my car into park, spastically flew out of it, left it there (locked, for safe measure) and walked home (don't worry, it wasn't too far)--all because a tiny spider had lowered itself down from my roof to my steering wheel whilst I was driving. My hubby had to retrieve the vehicle and conduct a thorough internal inspection before I would drive it again. And even then, I kept my eyes on a swivel.

So I think it goes without saying that I'm a teensy-tiny bit, kinda-sort, most definitely afraid of those creepy-crawly mini terrors with eight legs.

And today, those creepy-crawly mini terrors put my mommy-hood credentials to the test.

It was 10:30 a.m. The nursery was quiet. Baby Girl and I entered, unaware. We played. We pooped (her). We made funny faces (me). And all along, danger lurked in the corner.

It wasn't until changing time that I turned to the closet and spotted the beast, perched on the wall--equidistance from the crib and the closet door. And though my first instinct was: RUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My second was: That is So. NOT. Okay. I mean, it's one thing for a creepy-crawly mini terror to invade my master bedroom--at which point, I circumvent the perimeter and exit the room, never to return until my hubby has "taken care of" the sitch-i-a-tion. But it is not okay for one of those suckers to prowl my sweet, squishy, cherub-faced Baby Girl's room.

So what did Mama do? She manned up.

I put on my game face, marched around the corner to the laundry room for a shoe, and went straight for the sucker before I could lose my nerve.

Pow!

One hit and two things were accomplished: 1) I tainted the beautifully-painted wall with a shoe imprint, and, 2) the sucker went down.

Unfortunately, I was forced to whack it again a couple of times, just for safe measure. And for an hour or so afterward, I kept a beady eye on it, just in case it decided to re-animate, as they sometimes do. But I'm happy to report that five hours later, it's still in a shriveled ball, just waiting for the hubby to come home and remove it.

Don't mess with Texas.

Or my kid.

P.S. Just one, final thought, You know how people always tell you not to be scared of spiders 'cause you're a thousand (million?) times bigger than them? Well, that ratio is scarily diminished when you're talking about a wee, eight-pound infant.

P.P.S. Baby Girl was ready to take care of business, too. Check out those battle fists.