I'm such a good mom.

A couple of days ago, I had one of my prouder parenting moments.

We had just finished up with dinner. I was clearing dishes, JC had wandered into the office to work on something or other, Ben was trotting along under my feet, and Bethany and James had marched downstairs for one kind of mischief or another. (Probably "camping" where they take flashlights and hide out in the boys' closet, occasionally escaping for "food" or "to chase the bad guys." - - by the way, they call bad guys "The Billage" which I'm pretty sure is supposed to mean "The Village" which I'm pretty sure comes from that scene on Disney's Beauty and the Beast where the whole village gathers together to go kill the beast...I think it has been decided that scary groups like that are just called "The Village" and are always "bad guys.")

Suddenly, I hear Bethany gasp dramatically (not out of the ordinary, happens about once every half hour or so) but then, in a very tense voice - "James. Get. Up. Stairs. Now."

Oh my.

I start toward the stairs and the two of them are already halfway up, both with wide eyes and clenched jaws. Bethany proceeds to tell me that there is a big daddy bug downstairs that has black and red and two half circles and big legs that crawled toward them fast when they saw it.
They were both terrified.
I wasn't very far behind.

Now, if I were a single mother I would have no problem whatsoever assuming full responsibility in the bug catching and killing department.
But I am not.
And I would prefer to not operate under any pretenses.
More often than not, I change dirty diapers and clean the house.
More often than not, JC takes the trash out and kills bugs.
I don't mind old fashioned steriotypes.
I just don't.

So, JC was summoned and we all tentatively head downstairs. Well, not him...he had a family to defend...he stomped right down there, ready for action.
There was nothing to be seen BUT Bethany is like a little video recorder and can recall details from just about anything she's ever experienced, so she gave us directions on exactly which way the bug was headed. ("It came this way and then that way a little. Then it went this way so it's probably over there.")

Finally, JC finds the culprit in the bathroom. A roach.
Ugh, I can't even type it without shuttering. Or read it without shuttering, I just found out.
It was one of those horrible big ones with long stilt-like legs that can run like the dickens and make you feel like it's on you for days after you see it.

See? Just now, I swore it was on my neck. My NECK!

But back to this lovely drawn-out story, as JC was trying to figure out how to best get this particular bug and we were all huddled around the corner on the stairs, Ben keeps tugging at me saying "I see! I see!" So, I figure he has every right to see this thing we're making a big deal of, and I tell JC that Ben wants to see and kind of walk him down there.
Things seemed very under control, so I let down my guard a bit and turn away to talk to my two older children who are now pretending to be Spider Man (no doubt trying to escape from The Billage) by sliding on the railing.
Next thing I know, I hear JC yelling "Here it comes, Ben!" and out of the corner of my eye see this monstrosity of a bug moving a good forty-five miles per hour toward my general space.

And what do I do?
I take off.
Yes, that's right. I run toward the stairs, probably squealing a little. The details escape me.
Toward the stairs and away from my baby who is definitely squealing and more than a little. With his arms raised over his head, flapping around as he runs, the bug essentially 'chasing' him, as it continues to run in the same direction as he does.
I can't explain this. I don't understand what made me abandon my child and run away. JC didn't understand either. As he tried to catch that daddy bug, he looked at me with a very strange look on his face and sort-of-shouted "Um...CAN YOU GET HIM??"
I numbly nodded and raced back toward the scary bug and the scared Ben, scooped the later up and brought him to our safe haven on the stairs. We watched JC win his battle, go outside to dispose of any evidence of a struggle, and come back in to cheers...after which he looked at me funny again, like he didn't recognize me and slowly said, "Um...sorry I kind of yelled at you."

To which I replied, "Sorry I left our baby in the path of the roach to indulge in my own silly and unfounded fears."

Well, maybe I didn't say that. But we both laughed about how I did just that.

And I felt really dumb. And I hope Ben forgets it ever happens. And that Bethany and James didn't make a mental note as they witnessed it.
"Note to self - Can't count on Mom to not abandon us when something scary comes along. Learn to fend for self ASAP..."

As the next few days have come and gone with Ben occasionally going into hysterics when something moves funny or when something brushes against his feet in a way he doesn't like, I have begun to question if he's not just trying to make me feel guilty . . .