I was having a shower this morning and my daughter decided to 'help' me which of course meant more hindering than 'helping'. Her helping included opening and closing the shower curtain to let the water cascade over the bathroom floor, taking the soap for taste testing and puling down towels to sop up the lake that had now formed on the floor, all things I am sure you are very familiar with. Everything was going along swimmingly, no pun intended, when she spotted a spider! You have to know that my bathroom is a kind of makeshift after thought to the house that we are living in. It has painted brick walls and bare copper piping and in some areas has gaps around the exit pipes for basins and the like. That being said it is all plumbed properly and safe for little fingers, just, as I said before, a bit of an afterthought. Thus I spend most of my time spraying crunchy crawler around the open parts in the bathroom to try and deter any potential visitors. With the recent rain, it has obviously been diluted and hence our creepy, little critter was able to enter unscathed. It was quite a spectacular sight to witness as I peered around the shower curtain trying to stop more water from getting everywhere. She stopped dead in her tracks, did a little on the spot dance as she flit from one foot to the other on tip toes with her fingers in her mouth in an sort of over exaggerated, mime style frightened face. I didn't realise what exactly she was going on about until her frantic toe tapping changed to frantic finger wagging and a tiny, high-pitched; "mummy, spider!"
Spiders are one of my top five 'things that are worthy of running out of a room screaming about', so I felt for her but I just couldn't muster up the courage to move as soon as she uttered that dreaded word! My mind raced, first thinking "Come on you’re a mother now, grow some kahunas!", then "I could throw a towel on it and then jump on it". After rendering both those choices inferior I came to what I thought was my last resort, take the shower head down and trying to drown the sucker! All the while the little person's cries have gotten louder and more shrill and her tip toe dance had returned, this time accompanied by the frantic, wagging finger. Calmly, or acting as such, I looked her in the eye, still peering around the corner of the shower curtain keeping all the water in, in a desperate attempt to ensure the spider doesn't catch on to my plan. I tell her "Bubba, stop crying and open the door and go find your Aunty" Her tears keep pouring down her cheeks as I try to open the door of the bathroom without disturbing our little visitor to offer a visual cue to the instructions that she obviously hasn't received over her wailing. That proved enough of a persuasion as she toddled off screaming for her Aunty, which left me alone with a spider in a room strewn with soggy towels, chunks of soap and about 2cm of water covering the tiles. Hiding behind my flimsy shower curtain I talked myself through what I was going to do, pick up the shower head, open the shower curtain and aim it at the spider. I armed myself with said shower head, flung back the curtain and sprayed, with, of course, the obligatory tongue biting action required of someone concentrating really hard. However, the spider seemed to have had some sort of premonition as he had a game plan as well and it involved charging straight at me, and I should have guess that an insect with eight legs would be quite light on his feet but I hadn't and before I knew it he and I were standing no more than 30cm away, staring at each other. I don't know about him but my heart was racing. I now know how events such as a simple argument or a seemingly harmless burglary can end in murder because at that moment something inside me just snapped. I was scared, I was mad, I was cold, I was wet and my bathroom was flooded so I took the shower head that was still in hand and I whacked that spider! I whacked until the only evidence of him having ever come to visit was a small chip in the white paint on my ‘oh so stylish’ brick walls. I don't think I will paint over that chip, it will serve as a reminder to any other spider that dare enter my bathroom to shelter from the weather- you are taking your life into your own hands.
This brings me to the reason I am writing this. Is fear of certain things something that is born or bred into us? The first time my baby saw a spider she would have been about 6 months and she kicked up a furious racket as she crawled and tumbled and commando rolled as fast as her little legs would let her across the linoleum floor, but before then she had never been around when I had come across one of our delightful visitors, thus had never witnessed one of my own flailing tantrums. Which has made me wonder where she has picked up her fear from? Thinking on it further I believe she is probably sensitive to my changes in feelings. I know when I am feeling particularly horrible and wanting to cry she will come up without any warning and ask me if I am ok. I know when I am at uni I can tell when she is crying or hurting because I get a sunken, 'not right' feeling in my gut. Perhaps it is born in us as children that we are tuned into our parents’ feelings as a preservation method. What do you think? Born or Bred?
I better get back to my bathroom and clean up the flood, sodden towels and floating soap pieces.
Until Next Time,
Soul Mum xo
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