Holding Family Blog: I'm a Crazy Person

It's totally true that I am not a normal, rational thinking human being. This is part of my charm.

(FYI: pictures are totally unrelated to this post, and all taken from my phone)

I know I do not have normal thought patterns or use logical thinking techniques - I own that. Sometimes, it's humorous. Like the time I left a dead spider behind Emma's dresser because I felt like that was a message to all other spiders, "Arachnids: Ye Be Warned - this is what happens to creepy crawlies in this house."

Matching sparkly shoes day

Sometimes, like when Paul travels out of town on business, it is not funny. I have an intense and disproportionate fear of bugs, burglars, and barf. Not necessarily in that order.

When Paul is out of town I live in fear that one of us will vomit. If it's one of the girls, I know that keeping them both separate but safe is pretty much impossible, not too mention exhausting. If it is ME that gets sick, the world stops turning. No, for real, the globe will actually stop rotating on its axis. Truth.

Lexi's Pre-K school picture

Bugs are disgusting. This is a known fact universally acknowledged by everyone. I hate bugs. When I was at K-State, I had a class in the entomology building and I had a small panic attack everytime I had to walk in the hallways because they had billions of (dead) bugs showcased. I mean, really, that is so unnecessary! But we digress - I hate killing bugs. Not becuase I am an animal rights activist, but because I hate that crunch sound they make when you smoosh 'em dead. I usually trap bugs under a cup, put a book on top of the cup and let Paul deal with it when he gets home. That doesn't work for more than a few hours though, so when he is traveling a lot (like he's been lately) I have to crunch the critters myself. I usually cry and whimper like a girl, but I do it! I think the bugs know when I am alone too, and that is when they send in their fiercest warriors. This week, a wasp snuck its way into my home and I had to kill it myself. I'm pretty inventive, so when I saw it in the kitchen sink, I flipped on the water (to wet the wings - I figured if Tinkerbell can't fly with wet wings, neither can a wasp) and sent it down the drain. Then I let the garbage disposal run for 127 seconds.

Emma's game day face

So the fear of burglars doesn't stem from a traumatic incident, it's just a phobia of mine. My house is tightly locked up at night and lit up with outside lights, but I am just POSITIVE that someone is going to break in. So when Paul is out of town, I pretty much lie awake at night and wait for the moment when I need to pull the baseball bat out from under my side of the bed and defend my loved ones. The ice maker was on one night and I kept thinking that the noise of ice filling the tray was someone crashing their way into my house. I did not sleep. Another night, our neighbors were moving out of their house and every time they slammed the car door I was wide awake and on high alert.