If you've read my blog for more than a day and a half, you probably have at least a small idea of how I feel about bugs. To recap: I kind of hate them.
And you know the kind I really hate, right? Yeah....That would be the buzzing kind. I feel as though I've covered this in great detail in past posts.
And now I will delve into what is terrifying me at this very moment. Causing my heart to race, my skin to feel hot and shivery and prickly, my head to feel tight. It's what's causing me to glance up from my computer every 3.5 seconds to ensure that I am not being stalked. It is what is under this box.
See that box? Under that box is some sort of EXTREMELY LARGE buzzing flying insect. I don't know what kind exactly.
What I do know:
1. It's stupid.
I know this because as I was relaxing on the couch, reading Stephen King's On Writing, I heard a VERY LOUD buzzing sound. Since the window in the living room was open, I assumed it must be large bumblebee or something on the other side of the screen. I tend to jump to these kinds of conclusions because they help me keep my sanity.
When I glanced up from my book, you know - just to be sure, I saw a black blob of doom with wings fall to the floor NOT 10 FEET from where I was trying to relax. Bastard! It landed on its back and it was all black and shiny green underneath and it started to shimmy the way really stupid flying beetles are apt to do when they can't turn over. Because they are so stupid.
2. It's probably dead.
I grabbed the closest large object I could find, the Lego box, and laid it on top of the writhing, buzzing horror. But the box was empty. Nowhere near heavy enough to squash a bug dead. The box started to move around with a scratching sound as the thing underneath was trying to claw its way out.
I would have smashed the box and all that survived underneath it with the child's guitar that was nearby (can you picture it? classic.), but both the empty Lego box and guitar belong to our little cousin, Jack. Whose house we are staying in at the moment. Because we are homeless rock stars who just moved back from Iowa. We have been rotating around our family's homes since we got here a month ago. We feel like rock stars because we have a wonderful extended family who missed us and are so glad to have us back that they are each willing to put us up for a week or two while we find our footing. Thank you, family! We love you so much!
However, there is a small possibility that all that good will might come to a screeching halt if I start smashing up their stuff.
So, instead, I carefully loaded some very heavy books into the box through the side opening and pressed down.
And then I pressed some more.
And I slowly backed away and hoped that the thing was dead. As I stared at that box for signs of life, I knew that I needed to have some closure. Because that box would torture me for the rest of the day if I didn't (Is that thing still alive? Is it crawling out to get me?). And, also, because I fancy myself a little bit of a bad-ass.
3. If my children even come this close to accidentally moving that box I will freak out and they will be in the Naughty Corner until the end of time.
As I see it, that box is basically keeping us alive. But it doesn't matter, because Peyton and Ella are busy sorting Jack's Star Wars Lego people. For fun. They are totally my kids.
They are blissfully unaware of our situation. That is really, really good. When I see a scary bug I am able to scream on the inside. Peyton and Ella do not have that ability. Flying bugs elicit screams from my children that rival the screams of stupid people in slasher films. Also, the other day Ella discovered the teeniest, tiniest little spider ever in the history of the world on a stuffed animal and she cried about it for the next 30 minutes.
What I don't know:
1. How did it get in the house?
2. How long has it been in the house?
3. Did it already slither into my ear and lay its eggs while I slept?
4. What was that noise just now????
5. Did the box just move while I wasn't looking at it????
6. Am I going to be able to get up the courage to look underneath that damn box? For the safety of my family?
Yes. I am. But first I needed to call my mom. Because she's not afraid of bugs. She actually thinks they're beneficial. My mom's really smart about most things and I love her more than anything but on this issue she's CRAZY. So I call her so that she can talk me through this. Also, she'll know to alert the authorities should something happens to me while I'm defending my family,.
My mom doesn't answer her phone. Super awesome, Mom.
Plan B: "Kids! Come here for a second! Okay, you see that box? There's a really big bug under there. I think it's dead, but I have to check it out. Wanna watch?"
"Yeah!"
See that? That is some Parent of the Year crap right there. I use my kids to make me brave. I make it a game: Watch Mommy Slay the Beast.
I don the appropriate bug-buster safety gear (the kind that covers my whole body so that nothing can land on my skin), grab my weapon of choice (Real Simple magazine because it's super heavy), and I let Peyton take a picture of my attack face:
And I lift up the box and Peyton says, "Woa! That is humongous! Disgusting!"
See that? Confirmation from a 6-year-old. I'll take it.
Then he decides to measure it (Brave boy! When did that happen? Probably when he realized the bug wasn't really moving):
I scoop it up and take it outside. I am feeling pretty brave myself.
And then Peyton says, "Mommy, I'm proud of you for doing that."
What can I say?
I can't really say much as I'm too busy puffy-painting "H E R O" on a t-shirt for myself.
Then he decides to measure it (Brave boy! When did that happen? Probably when he realized the bug wasn't really moving):
I scoop it up and take it outside. I am feeling pretty brave myself.
And then Peyton says, "Mommy, I'm proud of you for doing that."
What can I say?
I can't really say much as I'm too busy puffy-painting "H E R O" on a t-shirt for myself.
