a small triumph

Normally if I see a bug I scream and call the fearless and handsome Mr. Clean to come take care of it for me.  I hate bugs (Mr. Clean does too, but he must love me a lot because he always catches and gets rid of them without complaining). 

This morning I spotted a HUGE (ok...it was tiny) cricket that had somehow wandered into our apartment.  I stood there, frozen in place for a minute, then I realized the following: 

1.  I really really really hate bugs. 
2.  Mr. Clean is gone a lot now.
3.  I am home all of the time now.
4.  Running away from something never helps. 
5.  Soon there will be a baby to take care of.
6.  Part of taking care of babies is being brave about things like that are scary or icky.  Like bugs (and throw up...but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it).

Moving forward on that conclusion, I trapped and flushed the cricket - all by myself - with a minimum of squealing and a ton of tissues.  I decided I can count it as a victory even though I never, ever, ever want to do it again. 

Off to obsessively vacuum the apartment now...it's all about baby steps, right?