I have never been a fan of spiders. If you check my facebook fan list, you will not see spiders. Not that spiders don't have their place in nature, they absolutely do, and there is something ethereal about a dew-kissed web glittering in the sun. The patterns are beautiful and simple, and some spiders make ones that are amazingly well proportioned, as if they have a built in ruler that scans the length of the silk and gives a digital readout at the bottom of their field of vision. But, unfortunately for all their craftsmanship, spiders themselves are less than beautiful because, well, they bite.
Even still, I would not squish one for that reason, and do not advocate pointless squishing of any living thing. But there is one thing that gives me the courage and ability to squish the ever-menacing creepy crawly scampering across my wall, and that is motherhood.
I did have a spider friend once. For years, she and her progeny lived in the corner behind my washer. She was my Charlotte, a wood spider, who I knew would never bite anyone living in my house, so I let her stay. It was oddly comforting to see her everytime I closed the washer lid and lifted the button to the sound of rushing water. She was always there, a friendly constant in my life. My boys would climb on top of the washer and just watch her. No one ever disturbed her. To do so seemed irreverent. We just happily coexisted in our own space.
But spiders are like humans in the sense that no two are alike. For some reason, our yard attracts large numbers of black widows. Just the sight of a black widow creates a sense of forboding, maybe because her venom can paralyze your nervous system and cause painful contractions of all your muscles, including your heart. Yeah, that's enough to create forboding, especially if you are a parent. My husband has to spray and squish them every so often to keep the population down. No one takes joy in this spider massacre, but it is necessary to protect the kids. It's hard for them to understand without going into detail, why we squish the black widow, but tenderly care for the lady bug. When they're little we keep it at a simple "they bite" and they understand without knowing that they are willing to kill you for no apparent reason. "They bite" is plenty of information.
In retrospect, I was really always afraid of spiders. When I was a little girl, my mom and dad would squish them for me and that would keep me "safe" from bites, or crawling on me, or if they were to happen to grow 20 feet and suddenly decide they wanted to squish me. Mom and Dad were always there, ready to squish. I never squished my own spiders. Even in college, sitting in Entomology class, marvelling at the wonder of spinnerets, when the discussion came to fangs, chills ran up and down my spine. But then I became a mother, and everything changed.
Books's birth was the most awakening experience of my life. He was precious, beautiful, and completely reliant upon me for everything. I could not even fathom allowing a spider to harm him. Suddenly, spiders were small.
I wonder if the bear and hen go through this same transformation, from relying upon others to preserve your life to sacrificing it to preserve your young. In that sense, we have much in common with animal life. Fear leaves and the only remnant is this aggression toward predators. Like a mother wolf, teeth bared and growling at the approaching threat, babies huddled behind her. She seems to be saying stay away from my babies or one of us is going to die. Circle of life. Or maybe I watch too much Planet Earth. Or too much Lion King. :) I'm sure husbands and fathers must experience this same sense of protectiveness, but I imagine for him the protective feeling encompasses the children and the mother. For animal parents it is one of their many instincts, but even for us humans it doesn't require any conscious thought that we need to protect them, it just happens, instinctive for us as well, apart from and above our enlightened understanding.
So without thought, I sacrifice a flip-flop, foot of toilet paper, or Kleenex to slay the dragons and keep my babies safe. Unfortunately, dragons still come. Last week, Bob woke up covered in little red itchy spots. I thought fleas had come in our house through some sleeping bags that had been stored in our garage, so I changed all the bedding and vacuumed and washed all the laundry, thinking that would solve the problem. I had checked all around and under the bed and there were no webs, so I figured it must be fleas. But a few nights later, Books was bitten too. Then this morning, the boys find me and say, "Mom, we know what's been biting us, can you get it?" So I follow them into their room and sure enough, there's a garden spider, deer in the headlights, caught climbing to the ceiling. I take my flip-flop and squish him. Whew... sighs of relief flow through the room from four little bodies. There is once again peace in the land, and I am happily the mother of four safe babies.
