I should say something. Or answer some of the 151 email in my box. (Is “email” the plural of “email”? Or would it be “emails”? Stuff to ponder.)
Or I could work on one of the Bible-time costumes I’m in charge of creating for the Saturday night extravaganza. I came up with something unbelievably creative to wear–you’ll just have to wait so it doesn’t spoil the surprise–and also, my husband will be wearing something spiffy, but I have to create both of them. (Get to, have to, what’s the difference?)
But not today.
My husband’s making dinner tonight and furthermore, he bought a blender so he could make the boys milkshakes for dessert. When he slid the box onto the kitchen counter, I flung open (fling? flang? flung?) the cupboard door and said, “But we have an awesome blender, right there!” An Oster, for the record, a shiny silver one. He said, “The boys said ours doesn’t work and I said, “It does work! It works perfectly!” And he said, “Dear, don’t spoil our fun,” and “The kids are only home for a few short years,” and I shut up.
Now, we own two blenders. Too bad we don’t drink Margaritas.
Um, so, earlier today, just after I finished posting on my other blog, my daughter began banging on the patio door, hysterical and screaming. I jumped to the door in one giant leap and opened it . . . she was yelling about her friend who had a bee in his shoe and he ambled and sobbed, apparently incoherent with terror.
“Is it still in there?” I asked.
He shook his head, clutched a rock and drooled as he cried louder. I sat him on the stair, intending to take off his shoes to check for a sting and found two wasps clinging to the crotch of his pants. I swept them off and yanked him away from the stairs because another wasp dive-bombed us. My daughter, meanwhile, is unharmed, yet is shrieking with sympathy terror. The boy continued to scream.
I shoved my daughter inside, then pulled the boy in and closed the door. I said again, “Is the bee in your shoe?” And he said, “No!” but pointed to his waist. I said, “Did it sting you there?” and he nodded and a bit of drool dripped down. I pulled the waistband down for a good look and there was a live wasp, crawling out of his pants.
I screamed, my daughter screamed louder, the boy cried out in greater fear. I opened the door and dragged him out, closing my daughter inside. I pulled his clothes off, leaving only his Spiderman underpants. Then back inside the house.
I was examining the place where he was stung and asked him if his mouth itched. (He’s a very allergic kid and I was afraid he’d have a bad reaction.) The phone rang, so I answered and with racing heart, began telling my husband what had happened. We were still all breathless from the excitement.
And then I felt a sting on the top of my foot. I said, “I just got stung!” I knew immediately, even though I had never before been stung in my 41 years on this earth. I was wearing black, wool, plush scuff-type slippers, so I began to smash my right foot on top of my left foot to kill the wasp which had to be inside my slipper. Then I opened the door, kicked my slippers outside and peeled off my sock.
Ouch! That hurt! A wasp must have burrowed into my slipper while I was outside flicking other wasps off the boy.
When I took him to the kitchen to get a band-aid (a cure-all for every sort of injury if you are four years old), I found Solarcaine, so sprayed a little on my foot to see whether it would numb the pain. It helped a bit, so I prepared to spray the boy’s stung spot and my daughter burst into fresh, loud sobs–“DON’T SPRAY HIM! DON’T SPRAY HIM!” She thought it would hurt.
The boy began to cry afresh, too.
But I sprayed him. He assured her it didn’t hurt.
(I just heard a neighbor say to my boys, “Are you going to come to my birthday party?” My boy says, “When?” and the neighbor says, “Today!” and something about Chuck-E-Cheese’s. Uh, hello? No advanced warning? No. I don’t think so.)
My foot still hurts. Perhaps I ought to start drinking Margaritas.
Actual Unretouched Photo 
I am laughing so hard the tears are trickling down my face………… I can just see it all in technicolour. With surround sound. Mel, you are a star!
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Oh man! What a day! I can see why you’d be re-evaluating that margarita thing 🙂 You certainly have a way with words 🙂
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I am soo sorry. I think i would have screamed also. I too would re-evaluate the margarita thing also. =)
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Oh dear! You are not helping my fear during the yellow-jacket-infestation-in-my-laundry-room fiasco!
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You must have a yellow jacket nest near the back door? It seems unusual to have so many swarming around you – and on you – for that matter. So sorry.
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Oh, poor you!
My son, when he as a year and a half, upset a wasp nest in playground equipment made of recycled tires.
Twenty-two stings.
Twenty-two years ago.
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That was a very funny recap :). I am glad it’s over!!
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This brought back the memory of a story concerning my oldest brother when he was around 4 years old, too. He sat down on a nest of red biting/stinging ants that climbed up all thru his trousers and went to town! Poor him, poor you, poor little-friend-of Grace! Ouch!
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my tale involves me, a blue doberman, and a ‘dead’ ‘possum. i was sitting in the den one night watching tv when gracie the blue dobie began to run back and forth across the porch barking, looking in the window at me, and turning on the motion light every time it went off. when i finally went to see what was up i discovered what i thought was a dead juvenile ‘possum lying decorously in the center of the porch. a lovely gift, lovingly placed in the center of the porch at the top step, in the center of the light. he was wet around his middle, from where he had been carried around all night. after thanking gracie for this lovely gift, i got a piece of cardboard to scoop it up with and a plastic bag to put it in and began to try to get it up without actually touching it. now it looked well and truly dead, lips pulled away from teeth, eyes open, not breathing. although i did think i saw its tail twitch once, but then thought, nah, it’s dead. when the cardboard got under its’ little butt, and lifted it up, gracies dead ‘possum screamed as loud as its’ little lungs would let it, hopped up and went waddling down the steps. i screamed as loud as my lungs would let me, jumped up into a rocker, of all things, gracie really went nuts, the kids across the street came pouring out of their house over here, one waving a baseball bat. did i mention it was 11pm? one of those kids had a 3 yr. old, who, at 11 still loves to ask me if i’ve tried to catch a ‘possum lately.
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I just broke my blender. Sniff. No more smoothies for me until I come up with another. I love smoothies.
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Pina Colada’s work well too. Even the kind with no strong stuff helps a bit. 😉
My brilliant boys decided to see if they could out run bees from a busted up nest, they of course did the busting. Kept throwing a frisbee at it until they cracked it in half.
You can imagine the outcome of this story.
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My husband makes amazing margaritas, but he doesn’t use a blender at all, he insists that the only way to drink them is on the rocks.
That poor little boy, I was laughing so hard though as you described him ambling and drooling and rock clutching. That was before I knew he’d actually been stung though.
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Hope your foot’s alright! And that poor little boy.
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If you make a paste with water out of Meat tenderizer and put it on stings it pulls the venom right out and literally takes away the pain in seconds. Ive been stung too many times to count and this really works!
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Oh man! I got attacked by hornets when I was a kid. My mom had left me under the care of my dad, who let me go outside and do my thing. My thing was climbing trees and I got into an entire nest of hornets. They began to swarm me and I let go of the tree branch and fell all the way to the ground, with the hornets still stinging me (the little bastards). I then got up and ran across our rather large yard screaming my head off. My dad met me at the door with a puzzled look on his face. And then it dawned on him what was going on. He proceeded to take me around to the side of the house and hose me down. He treated my multiple stings with a huge bowl of ice cream.
I recommend that you make one large pitcher of peach margaritas, STAT!
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Oh my goodness! What a nightmare… I’m glad no one was seriously hurt…. I hate bee/wasp stings and have had a few myself over the years. Yech. Hoping you never have to go through *that* again!…. Debra
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Next time, try some wasp spray (on the stings). Seriously. I had a scorpion sting me TWICE recently, dh sprayed some wasp spray on it and it took away the sting pretty much immediately.
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Oh Mel. I can’t believe that. Well, I’m not saying your lying, it’s just so nightmarish. I hope they weren’t red wasps. Red ones hurt like the dickens. I was stung last summer and I wanted to cry it hurt so bad. I also had a swollen hand for days. Hope everyone is feeling better now.
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Perhaps I should’ve told you that the doctors here all recommend meat tenderizer for any type of sting. It’s suppose to suck out the poisen.
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Your consciousness streamed so much, that I hardly know what to respond to. Well, for starters, I think that as well as you are doing with your weight loss, you might have decided to go as Eve….;)
I can’t believe it is the first sting of your life! How is that possible?
Believe your husband about the few short years thing…it is very true….
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What a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day!
Except for the milkshakes.
I’m terrified of wasps.
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There had to be a nest someplace close.
I hate the nasty things. Poor little kid and poor you. I’d be screaming too.
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