I grew up with dogs and lots of fish. When I was younger, I thought I wanted to be a veterinarian, because I love animals. I was the daughter called to remove mice, snakes, spiders, or any unwanted creature that happened to enter our house. My mom did not always want them killed, just removed, which was my job. I am still the person who removes invaders like lizards. My husband helps me usher out some of the most crafty ones. No matter what I evict, I will do it with lots of screaming and talking. My husband has learned that if I am quiet, things are not good. If I am loud, I have it under control.
Just as he has learned how I deal with invaders, I have learned how to communicate with him in other areas of our marriage.
Our first team eviction happened at Fort Irwin. A lizard moved in while we were gone for two weeks. I went upstairs to my bedroom to find a towel shoved under the door. “Dave, why is there a towel under our door?” I asked.
“To stop the lizard from escaping,” he replied with minimal explanation.
“A lizard? In our bedroom? Did you catch it?”
“No, that’s why the towel is there. I saw it and decided you would deal with it later.”
Down to the kitchen I stomped to get my rubber cleaning gloves, a bucket, my mop, and a lid to a plastic bin. All my supplies to catch a lizard… don’t you have your lizard-catching supplies handy?
Back up I marched with Dave following close behind. I removed the towel and entered the bedroom. “Where did you see it?” I asked in a whisper because lizards can understand me.
“By the window,” he pointed to the only window in the room.
I found the lizard under the bed. It moved, and I started screaming, yelling, and basically verbalizing everything I was thinking. My husband wisely did not start laughing. He focused on the mop I was using rather violently to swing at the lizard to get it into the open.
Since I was yelling and not really communicating, our first attempts at capture failed. I stopped my outwardly loud processing and handed Dave the mop. “I will put the bucket on top of the lizard when you sweep it out from under our bed.”
Once I briefed Dave on the plan, we became a lizard-capturing team. He swept under the bed, and the lizard came right at me. Yelling began, and the bucket landed right on top of the lizard. Next, we had to figure out how to keep it in the bucket to carry outside. That’s where the plastic bin lid came in. I slid it under the bucket and trapped the cold-blooded critter.
Dave carried the bucket with the lid on it outside and threw the lizard over our fence to get rid of it. The kids and the dog came to see what was going on. “Daddy caught a lizard!” became their favorite chant.
Once I stopped doing things on my own, my lizard-capturing teammate could work with me to accomplish our goal—no lizards in our bedroom. Over the decades of learning to communicate, I have gotten better at talking through things rather than pushing forward and hoping he understands my plan.
