Anyone getting the occasional spider in the home? Say “I”. “I”.

I really try not to be a huge baby when it comes to spiders. After all, I am a wife and mother. And have dealt with harrier beasts. But when I see a spider, I go into freak out mode and start screaming like an idiot.

I usually run around my kitchen for a few minutes looking for something to murder it with. I pass the paper towels a few times, but then decide that paper towels are way too thin and delicate and there might be a chance that the spider could potentially bite through the paper towels and injure me. (You know, while I’m crushing it with my man hand-filled ball of paper towels).

Well. I figured out an amazing, half-wit way of killing my house spiders…well, half-kill it, then run around screaming a little.

Here’s how to half-kill your next house spider (and run away screaming a little):

1: Buy our book, Bleeping Motherhood’s Would You Rather: Pregnancy, Baby & Beyond

2: Keep it close by.

3: When you see a spider, grab the book. Approach it quietly and then smack the book as hard as you can on top of it. (It should sound like this: WACK.)

4: After the massacre, run as far as you can away from the scene of the spider crime. You may let out a lite scream. (AHH.)

5: Tip toe back over to the bloody spot. You may notice the spider squirming a little. You have 2 options. You can scoop it up into a tissue or something else, OR you can pick the book up and smack it again. (WACK.)

6: Throw the remaining spider carcass in the garbage. Pinch the tissue a bit to ensure the thing is dead. It can’t hurt you now.

7: Take a diaper wipe and clean off our book. Come on, don’t leave spider guts on our shiny new book.

8: Feel good about how you just killed a spider, and you didn’t even have to call your husband for help…or let it crawl around until you found someone who could help.

9: Feel really bad that you just killed a spider. (You’re probably going to hell now, Missy).

10: Forget all about the spider thing. Your kids are hanging from the rafters. And you’re late for an important phone call.

Bleeping Motherhood

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