A woman must have an arsenal of weapons in her purse at all
times. Think Mary Poppins meets Jack
Bauer. And inside every woman there most
usually lives a Girl Scout…ready for anything, creative and able to pound an
entire box of Thin Mints.
Back in the day I was definitely an awkward Girl Scout (mental
picture: chubby, green floral leggings, growing out my bangs) – and THANK GOODNESS – because my arsenal of
weapons was definitely lacking last Monday.
And creativity was all I had to go on….
I’d just finished an early morning shift at work. I walked over to my civic and opened the
driver side door as usual, ready to enjoy my last few “me time” moments before
reentering mommyhood for the day.
Only this time, I wasn’t alone. (Dun dun DUN)
There in the sill of the door was a lizard. Three inches of pure creepy crawly unpredictability.
“Don’t you dare,” I thought while giving it the disapproving
mommy stare down. Note – while effective
on husbands and children, lizards care very little about whether you approve of
their behavior or not. How do I
know? Oh yes, because homeboy (lizard)
darted into my car.
Really? Really???
Girl Scout or not, what the heck do I do with that? Where were you on that warning Dateline? I had my pepper spray for attackers and
rapists, my self-defense moves for purse snatchers and my choice words for
unruly teenagers – but a LIZARD? No one
prepares you for that.
Homeboy was there, in MY car. But only one of us was going home. And I was pretty sure that was gonna be me.
So I did what any woman would do. I went to my comfort zone. I went to my purse. All I had was my wallet, my keys, my iPhone, some
tampons and my pride. Fail.
As such, I did what any resourceful (desperate) woman with
inner Girl Scout chi would do. I got
creative. Oh yes, and threw my pride out
the window.
I took out a tampon from my purse and started furiously poking
around the floor of my car.
Note – while effective on periods, lizards care very little
about tampons poking at them.
So after poking for a
good 2 minutes to no avail, I stepped back for a moment to take in the
situation. (bing)
The lizard wasn’t coming out. I had to get home. There was no choice.
I tensed every muscle in my body and got in the car…vocally
warning homeboy that if he dare show his face while I was driving – he’d have to
incur the wrath of yet another tampon attack.
The five minute eternity that next ensued would have been
hilarious to ANYONE lucky enough to see.
Add some scary movie music and you’d have had a thriller on your hands
ladies and gentlemen! I spastically
turned my neck the ENTIRE ride home looking for any sign of homeboy. My breaths were short and I’m not kidding
when I say that EVERY muscle in my body was tense. How do I know it was EVERY muscle? Cause I didn’t pee my pants. Or at least that’s what I’m telling people.
Home. Whew!
I jumped out of the car and proceeded to look
back in disbelief. A crying 10 month old? I can handle that. A husband furiously preparing for the
bar? Yup – no problem. A lizard?
Apparently we’ve found my kryptonite.
Through his laughter, John listened to my retelling of the
encounter with homeboy. To which he
responded by talking as if the lizard…..
“Really lady? You’re
poking me with a tampon? Do I look like
a vagina to you?” haha
Then he proceeded to go out to the car and shake out the
mats and lie to me.
I know the lizard is still in there somewhere, John.
But if nothing else, I’ve learned something from homeboy:
When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. But when life gives you lizards – you poke
them with a tampon and spend the rest of your week in fear of their possible
resurgence. Then you get over it.
You see, sometimes you just have to live with the lizards. Some problems don’t go away – and you can’t
run from them. So we pick ourselves up
by our bootstraps, tense every muscle in our bodies so we don’t pee your pants,
and get on with our lives.
Life is unpredictable.
That’s why I carry pepper spray. And tampons.
And my new found courage.
You can call me Mary Bauer.
That was hilarious! You are a gifted storyteller. I have to say that I really don't understand your fear of lizards. I think they are cute. I would be worried about accidentally killing it. I imagine myself driving home, telling the girls that there was a lizard in the car and let them have fun hunting it down and then listen to their ooooo's and awwww's as they admire their catch. Lizards are cute.
ReplyDeleteHA! Oh gosh, Kim. You're so funny.
ReplyDeleteWhat are you doing these days?