Moment of Truth: No, I Don’t Actually Want to Be a Vampire

I told my husband he’s never allowed to go business travel ever again. EVER. Because something always happens while he’s gone that I am not equipped to deal with don’t want to handle.

• First, the boys clogged a toilet.
• Another trip another toilet.
• Then the basement flooded. A foot or so of water.

That’s not even the worst. Okay, technically, it was the worst because stuff was ruined, and it was expensive to fix.

The worst was…

• A flippin’ bat in our bedroom in the around 5 AM.

I wish I had reacted like this:

But no.

I reacted like this:

Please just don’t get in my hair.

I screamed “I’m don’t want to be a vampire anymore!” (a whisper scream because Scout’s room is right across the room from ours and waking the baby is never an option) and ran out of the room. I did pause to pull Scout’s bedroom door shut (read: motherly instinct to save the baby).

In my panic, I did have some coherent thoughts, such as…

• Vampires don’t like light, so turn on all the lights!
• Maybe the bat is Bill Compton, and I can reason with him.
• Isn’t a bat just a mouse with wings? Maybe Esme Kitty will catch it. (The answer is no. My lazy cat will not catch it. Black cats don’t catch other evil creatures because they’re on the same team.)
• Call Dad.

Yes, that’s right. Even women in their mid-30s need their dads sometimes.

Then the bat flew into the living room. I couldn’t wait for my dad, and I had to take matters into my own hands.

With a few Mission Impossible-esque somersaults, I made it to the front and back doors and opened them. After 5 minutes of taking cover from a bat that didn’t like ceiling fans and more whispering screaming from me, the bat finally made it outside.