We're not taping a tv commercial or a movie at our house

It just seems like it because Geico's geckos and Samuel L. Jackson's "snakes on a plane" have started hanging out with us...

 

Inside.

 

Our.

 

House.

 

I could die. I seriously could have a heart attack one of these times and die. If it wasn't for the need to care for a baby 24/7, I might, no I would, be living in a hotel right now. And there would be a giant FOR SALE sign in our yard. Probably covered in lizards and snakes.

 

It all started the Thursday evening before my dad and sister arrived to stay with us and meet Ben for the first time. I was changing Ben for bed, the lights in his room were dim, and I spied a freaking lizard scurrying up the wall behind my beautiful glider. I went running, with this half-scream half-unattractive panic noise into the kitchen and up onto one of our counter stools. I had the eebie jeebies all over my body and couldn't physically shake them off enough. Jeff didn't believe me. He just started cracking up at me and asking what in the hell was going on.

 

He went into Ben's room and 20 seconds later silently came back out into the kitchen, grabbed some tupperware and a magazine, and went back in. I sat in the kitchen with full-body shudders. When he came out, he informed me that it had been "exterminated" and ridiculed me freaking out about such a tiny lizard. For some bizarr-o reason, I then went into even bigger panic mode that he just KILLED a lizard in Ben's room. Jeff didn't understand what he did wrong, and didn't know what the heck I wanted a live lizard for, but went about taking the carcass out to the trash and laughing at my reaction. The whole thing still gives me the shakes.

 

As we were getting ready for bed, I told him in the most serious face that this was NOT to ever be told to or discussed with my sister. She wouldn't have come to visit if she knew the possibility of lizards inside the house. As it turns out, the very next day when she did arrive, she admitted that she had a hard time just walking up to the front of the house knowing that we had seen lizards around.

We're just missing the clever quips in a Cockney accent

The second time it happened I think my heart stopped and I know my bladder broke. It was again late evening and I was in Ben's room getting my breastpump supplies ready for the night (little Ben sleeps so long at night that I have to get up around midnight to pump...lovely). I reached down into my pump bag and saw a DEAD lizard on its back with its legs straight up in full salute.

 

I went running, whisper-screaming and peeing into our bedroom (where Jeff was walking Ben to sleep) and straight into the bathroom. Jeff whisper-shouts back, "What is the matter with you?? What is going on?" I'm dealing with full-on body shakes and the fact that I just peed my pants running through our house (I blame the recent childbirth, obviously) and can only muster out, "dead lizard...oh God....oh God....I think I'm going to die...oh God" from the bathroom. When I'm able to get out more details and put myself back together, Jeff once again grabs some tupperware and a magazine and heads into Ben's room. Disgusting. So freaking disgusting I can hardly stand it.

 

Third time is eerily similar to the second, only the dang lizard wasn't dead yet. I went into Ben's room before bed, sat on my glider, grabbed my pump bag to get it ready for the night, and a stinking lizard goes running up the outside of my pump bag. Total and complete freak out. Again. Shakes from head to toe (me) and more tupperware and magazines (Jeff). This time, Jeff took the thing somewhere outside. Hopefully far away from our house, but I have to wonder when Jeff walked back inside in about 45 seconds. I'm trying really, really hard to not think about it.

 

Fourth time takes the cake and has seriously altered my ability to be home alone.

 

I was feeding Ben at about 3am last Tuesday night, rocking in my glider and minding my own business. I got up to change his diaper and was about to sit back down in the glider when my eye caught something dark on the carpet underneath the window. I only had a small lamp on in the room, so I couldn't tell exactly what it was, but it looked like a 10-inch curved black rope. With Ben in my arms, I went flying out of his room and into ours, and whisper-screamed for Jeff to wake up. All I could really get out was "Jeff! Jeff! Snake! Oh God I think there's a snake!" Jeff pops up saying, "What?! What is going on? Where?" I manage to tell him where and I pace around our bedroom holding Ben. I'm walking like I'm marching in the Rose Bowl Parade kicking my knees up with every step. I can hardly walk because of my body shudders but I refuse to sit down anywhere, either.

 

I peak into the living room as Jeff comes back out and says he needs a flashlight. I asked a zillion times if it really was a snake and he doesn't respond. He looked very serious. Then he comes back out and grabs - you guessed it - tupperware and a magazine. Outside and into the night he goes.

 

After he comes back inside from doing whatever he did out there with whatever it was, he tells me it wasn't as bad as I thought and not to be so freaked out. Yeah right. I told him I don't want to know a single detail and to not tell me anything about it because I will refuse to live here and won't sleep that night if I know anything. I tell him to just let me live in a little bit of oblivion and ignorance. Before I can even ask (aka demand), he says he'll call someone the next day to come out to our house to look around.

"I've had it with these muthaf@#&%in' snakes on this muthaf$#*@in' plane!"

This is where I had the pleasure of meeting Matt (aka my Samuel L. Jackson), our self-proclaimed "wildlife pro." Jeff informed me that all the "pest" companies he called said it's just part of living in Texas and couldn't do anything for us. Matt, on the other hand, deals with all things "legs, fur, scales and tails." He was exactly who I wanted on the job - big black boots, a camo hat and tattoos sneaking out from the arms of his t-shirt. He came to our house the next day and asked me "for my side of the story." I'm pretty sure Jeff gave him clear instructions to not say too much about what was found inside our house the night before. He checked things out inside, talked about why lizards and other "things of that nature" are good for us because they keep all the bugs out, and said his number one priority was to make me feel at ease. He said he gets calls all the time where wives are threatening to move because of what they found in their houses. He made me feel not so crazy.

 

After doing a full inspection outside, he said he would talk with Jeff and determine what we want done. He came back the next day to put wire mesh in our "weep holes" (don't really know what these are, but I guess they're in the brick around our house) and fixed some spots where mortar was missing. Since we've only found these slithering predators in Ben's room, he focused on that side of the house and assured me we won't have any other reptilian visitors inside.

 

He gave me a lesson on Texan wildlife while he was here and told me that every house has these problems. He also said that my fear isn't the reptile itself, but its crazy frantic movements. Whatever you say, wildlife guy, just get them the hell outta my house. It calmed me a little and made me freak a little.  

 

As he was leaving, he mentioned he was glad the skunk in the back of his truck behaved while he was here. Whaaaat??? Nothing should surprise me anymore.

 

I have yet to go into Ben's room at night. One of these days I'll get up the courage, but for now I think I'm doing pretty good by living here. I honestly don't know what I would do if I found something and Jeff wasn't here. Oh dear God let's not think about it.

I can't believe I've shared this when we really want visitors. I think I'm using this as therapy to help me "talk it out" and get past the extreme panic I'm dealing with here all by myself most days. Jesus help me.

M