It was a beautiful summer morning and both babies were sleeping in like perfect little children. I got my morning coffee and took it to the deck to enjoy the sun. Leaving the sliding glass door open a bit so I could hear if they awoke, I sat down on a lawn chair to relax a bit and get ready for the day. A few minutes in to my relaxation, I heard a rustling next to me. I look to my right and standing RIGHT. FRIGGIN. NEXT. TO. ME. was a skunk. During the day! Stumbling around like he was on some kind of walk of shame after an all-night bender, this beast was looking right at me.
So now most mamas probably would have run into the house and closed the door. Me? I ran screaming into the yard. Away from the house. FAR away from the house. As I stopped and turned I saw the little effer standing right next to the OPEN door to my house with my sleeping babies inside.
I start to yell at it. Because maybe skunks can listen to reason? "Please don't go in my house. AHHHH!!!! PLEEEEASE!!!!"
It looks at me with a wondering look. I imagine it thought that the giant biped screaming at it was pretty damn scary and hindsight tells me that perhaps a calmer, quieter approach would have been best. But that skunk was flirting with the threshold of my house as if to say "keep it up crazy lady and I WILL run into this safe house to escape you".
So I stopped and started to whisper "please don't go into the house, please don't go into the house, please don't go into the house". I imagine it was a pretty awesome sight for the neighbors (who already cannot stand us). Me in my pj's and no bra, twitching and whispering to myself while clasping my hands together in some kind of plea, stomping the ground in what probably looked like a pee dance.
About this time is when the skunk changed the game and got brave. I'm sure he had sized me up for the wuss that I am and he decided that his best defense was to charge. So he did. Right toward me. Good grief this thing had balls. I scream and start jumping up and down. He is startled long enough to stop in his tracks (and I suspect this is when he peed out of his butt a little, you know it's pretty obvious when they do that). And he darts to the right near the bush but not far enough to create a safe and assured distance between us to allow me back in my house.
We begin a dance. A heart pounding, sweat inducing, locked eye contact, insano dance. He'd move a few feet, then me.Then him. Then me. My ingenious idea to toss a branch and get him to run was the dumbest shit I have ever done. He did not go for it and butt peed some more. I spent the next five minutes (five years?) dancing with this crazed woodland creature. Until finally he was far enough away from the house for me to make a break for it. I Chariots of Fire-ed that run. Yes I did.
Back in the house I collapse exhausted on the floor (my children come by their drama honestly). I am safe! The babies are safe! I have WON! As I regain my composure, Mr. Pants walks out from his room. I imagine what might have happened had the skunk made it into the house and he came face to face with it. "Ooh look at the pretty baby kitty!" Good Lord. Thank God that the skunk's instincts to live (and perhaps find his home after a night of wild berry eating?) were on point. Because my motherly instinct to protect my children had not had their morning coffee yet. Coming down from the trauma (let me have my drama), it occurred to me that this ferocious animal was actually the teeniest little skunky I have ever seen. If I had to guess, I'd say he was a teenager skunk at the most. Maybe four pounds total? And as the shame washed over me, I tiptoed out to the deck to retrieve my abandoned coffee.