This dislike of insects goes way way back. When my dad was driving me home from college (so I was 22, keep that in mind), I screamed bloody murder on a bridge somewhere outside of Couer d'Alene because I thought a bee landed on my arm. When my dad pulled over, relieved I was not in fact dying, but irritated that I caused such a ruckus on a bridge with him operating a vehicle, I admitted that maybe it was just a shadow? I wasn't sure, but I swore something was flying! I asked my dad to search the car to make sure it wasn't lying in wait as evil bugs are known to do.
When AJ and I first got married he finally understood my fear of bugs. I don't think he believed me that once I found a moth in my apartment and when it was time to go to sleep and the little bugger still could not be found and disposed of, I slept in a hoodie with the hood on (in the summer) so you, know, there was less of my skin exposed that it could land on. I'm crazy, I know.
Well, fast forward to last week. AJ was out of town all last week doing AP grading so Hank and I were holding down the fort just the two of us. All was well and good....until Friday afternoon. I had just picked up groceries from Smith's (I am obsessed with Clicklist) and Hank cried the whole time I was unloading the car. I held and rocked him as I put frozen and refrigerated items away (the rest could wait until after naptime) and then....then....I saw it. A bee flying around the kitchen!!!!! I dropped a few choice expletives but tried to keep my cool for Hank. If you're not a worrier like me you might be thinking, umm, seriously? Kill the damn thing and move on. And looking back now, in my bee-free house, I can see that yes, that would be the rational thought. But when it comes to bugs--- rational I am not. My inner monologue went something like:
-Why is this happening with my hubby out of town?
-I've never met the neighbors across the street but I see they are out in their lawn. Think they'd come kill a bug for me? No! Bad idea, I should come over with sugar cookies, not a hit on an insect
-It is way too hot out to wear a hoodie all night if it's not caught and I need to cover maximum skin surface area
-Two words: My. Girl. Yeah, that movie where Macaulay Culkin dies from a freaking bee sting. What if Hank is allergic and I don't even know it?
So I did what any modern American woman would do when faced with a situation where her baby needs protection: I texted my husband half way across the country that's what.
In full disclosure, here is our actual text convo:
|AJ calls Hank "Munch" FYI|
I knew what I had to do. I put Hank up in his crib, turned on his lullabies (he did not need to bear witness to the amount of profanity I knew I was about to unleash on my unwelcome house guest) and he fell asleep. I closed the door to his room in case I couldn't kill the bee and it flew to his room and violently stung him and I would officially be the worst mom in the world.
I pulled my hair back (somehow I felt like I needed my full peripheral vision for this task) and armed myself with The Very Hungry Caterpillar since it seemed like the heaviest board book we had. Once I got downstairs I located my target. I approached it slowly and realized smashing it with the book might take more courage than I could currently offer. I reached for my secondary weapon choice: A bottle of Windex. I took aim and then.....
it flew away by another window. Ok, ok, I regrouped and said, "you're going down, you *!*%! piece of &&%$^*" (yes, out loud).
I proceeded to attack with the Windex but when it landed on the couch, I decided to trade out my Windex for Febreeeze. I was not about to coat all our upholstery in Windex, what am I, a monster?
I proceeded to follow and spray that thing around for about 10 minutes. I felt like a damn warrior. Not today, bee. NOT. TODAY. Finally, I pelted it over and over with Febreeze until it met its untimely demise on the window sill. I shot it a few more times just to make sure our tormentor was done.
I felt legit bad ass. I am woman, hear me roar! I am protector of my turf, fierce, mama bear, warrior queen, if you will. But as I got closer I realized it was.....
just a fly. A BIG fly, but still, just a fly. But that did not stop me from relaying the whole story to AJ along with this picture: