Arachnophobia

The only reason I know the term for "fear of spiders" at top of mind is because of the movie that came out like 9 million years ago, "Arachnophobia." And now, to think, that term definitely applies to a member of my household.

I don't love spiders, but I wouldn't consider myself arachnophobic -- killing-bugs-o-phobic captures it a little better for me. If I see a spider, I move along my merry way, reminding myself that she's probably eating and killing the rest of the creepy-crawly things for me, so in that sense, we're friends. If I could just get her outta my way without touching her...

The other day, the girls and I were at my parents' house. They both went into the bathroom to do their business and wash their hands, when suddenly Peanut erupted with what sounded like a blood-gushing shriek and launched immediately into the stop-breathing cry that occurs with the worst of injuries. I sprinted to the bathroom and found Jellybean speechless and looking a bit dumbfounded while Peanut continued to gasp for her breath between sobs. There was no blood or missing teeth, so I implored Peanut to tell me what was the matter. She struggled to get one syllable out between each sob, so that when she pointed and I followed her finger and deciphered "spi....." SOB "...der," I figured it out. There was a spider sitting on the edge of the bathtub. And she wasn't hurt, she was just...arachnophobic. Wow. To be fair, it was a pretty big spider, and it caught her off guard. So I acknowledged her fear and we moved on (when I got my mom to remove the spider, natch).

Until a couple days ago. I sent Peanut up to her room to get a book for us to read. She was singing to herself, climbing the steps in her little 3-year-old world, when suddenly I heard that blood-gushing shriek and crying. I rushed up the stairs, afraid she had fallen on them. Instead, I found her pointing to a spider dangling from the handrail. Definitely arachnophobic. Not just a one-time deal. Never would've seen that one coming from Peanut.

Photo finish

Until a couple of weeks ago, I had never taken either girl to have their picture taken. I take snapshots all the time, but for assorted reasons, we had never done the Photo. Shoot.
So now I've done it. Jellybean's preschool had a photographer come and do pictures on-site. They also allowed that siblings could come and participate. So I got both girls in their nice duds and managed to avoid trashing the outfits and hair long enough for them to get pictures taken.
We got the proofs yesterday. The good news is that most of them are pretty decent all the way to really cute. The bad news is that most of them are pretty decent all the way to really cute. As in, I can't buy 95 photos, even though a part of me wants to. I'm having a really hard time deciding which ones to get and how many. I want to have enough for gifts (Mother's Day and Father's Day for the grandparents, here we come!), but I don't want to still be holding on to 50 outdated photos a year from now.
I went through the proofs last night and pulled out the ones I definitely DON'T want. A couple of Jellybean by herself have funky smiles, and so does one of Peanut by herself. So that helped with a few. But I still have lots of good ones in lots of sizes. L made it clear he doesn't want to do the picking and planning (grrr, a bit, because most of them will be for his family in the end). So I'm on my own.
I'm thinking we'll get the ones of the girls by themselves just for us. Most relatives will probably want just one picture of both girls together. The picture of them together has a crayon background. The only good one of Jellybean has a plain background. I like the plain one of Peanut too, but there's one of her solo with the crayon background that I really love because you can see her little teeth and little feet. And, is it unfair to buy two of one kid and only one of the other kid (based on photographic quality, not favoritism)?

I'm hoping the photo fairy will appear and magically make my decision for me in the next few days. I had no idea how hard this would be!

(I know, there are wars and an economic crisis and those worry me too, but there are also tough choices closer to home. Like this!)

D'oh

As a parent, I always dread the times my children get hurt. I'm glad to be there to comfort them and care for them at least, and I have lots of empathy.

However, one thing I didn't anticipate when I became a parent were the times that I would inadvertently hurt them MYSELF. Don't worry, no need to call SRS. But I injured Peanut today.

It was lovely outside, and we were on the front porch chatting with one of our neighbors (if you haven't read about my neighborhood, you should) and her kids. I stepped inside to retrieve a Kleenex for the neighbor. As I came outside, I was greeted by Peanut chirping, "Hi, Mama!" only to stop mid-"mama" and start screaming in pain. I turned around and realized that her little ring finger was smashed and stuck in the front door right under the hinge.

Of course, I picked her up immediately and got a good look at the finger. It was a bit purple and had an abrasion on the fingertip. My neighbor reassured me that it was good that it was on the tip and not by a knuckle so the finger wouldn't be broken. Good point and great reassurance. Peanut finally stopped crying when I offered to retrieve her stuffed penguin, Rodrigo.

We bid the (mildly traumatized) neighbors goodbye and came inside to get ibuprofen and calm down. It was right before naptime -- which always happens when there's a worrisome injury, so I can't monitor it closely and see how things are, especially scary with head injuries. Anyway, I got her down for her nap, and she quieted down pretty quickly.

Thankfully her finger and fingernail seem all right. Her fingertip is swollen and a bit funky looking, but she is using the finger and lets me touch it. So, none the worse for wear. Phew.

This incident served as a good reminder to always look for little fingers near doors before I close them: closet doors, room doors, car doors, etc. I won't forget that anytime soon!