pretty much the worst thing that could happen

Last night was rough. There have actually been a few days or nights where I felt my sanity waning just a tad, but none compares with last night. I think I may have actually temporarily lost my mind.

Here's how it happened. I have to sort of write it out to actually believe it even happened. I'll ask you in advance not to judge me. Until you've walked a mile in another person's shoes...

So Cam and I (and Bennett, although he was sound asleep) were watching Blue Bloods (What? Tom Selick is still a hunk, people) and the cats started acting weird. First Sumo, then Wiley. They're already on a paper thin leash as far as I'm concerned. Their weirdness escalated down the hall and into the living room where it left them cornered in a corner by the bookshelf. They were meowing and carrying on (I thought unreasonably) so Cam got on hands and knees to inspect.

The cats started freaking out even louder, and I started yelling at the cats to quit freaking out, and Bennett started waking up (if he wakes up once he's down for the night, we're screwed), and Cam was frantically trying to figure out what happening so he could put an end to the madness.

He said, "I see a shadow!" to which I replied "A freaking SHADOW?!?! How big is this $%&@^ spider?" We all were sort of assuming it was a spider because those really freak the cats out. Cam went to get the flashlight. The cats started moving, in unison, along the wall. "It's MOVING!" I yelled. I am, as you may recall, deathly afraid of spiders. Who am I kidding? I am deathly afraid of all God's small creepy crawly creatures, but specifically spiders and... I'll be damned and wouldn't you freaking know it? FROGS.

There was a #$%^**%$# ever-lovin' FROG in our living room.

When Cam announced that the cats had corned a frog, I had two thoughts, and I'm not entirely sure which came first. I thought about tossing Bennett aside and running for my life, down the stairs and out the front door. I also thought about taking him with me, grabbing the car keys, buckling him in the front seat (we'd be in a hurry, see) and driving as far away as I could.

I hate frogs. I hate them. I don't often use the word hate, but it applies here.

I sat on the couch, paralyzed by fear. I called my brother (who was downstairs) on his cell phone so that he could help Cam capture the frog. I knew if it escaped and made its way towards me, there'd be no telling what I'd do. Bennett can smell fear a mile away, and often looks to me when he hears a loud noise or thud to reassure him that things are okay. I knew if I screamed, he'd startle, and he'd never feel quite as safe in my arms. And so, knowing he was fully asleep, I just sat on the couch, protecting him as best as I could, and spewing bad words. I'm not proud of it; fear does that to ya.

After a fair amount of hassle with a side helping of frustration, Cam and David managed to capture the creature. It was roughly the size of a penny. Even worse. A frog that small could infiltrate any space it wanted to.

I was, naturally, left with questions. Can I protect my son from these sorts of atrocities? Can I overcome my own fear and step up to the plate when duty calls? Can I be strong for him in these circumstances so that he can learn how to be brave from his mama? I wrestled with these for quite some time.

But the even bigger question remains: HOW IN THE HELL DID A FROG GET INTO OUR HOUSE?

(not the actual frog, but you get the idea)

For the story of the Evil Possum, click here.