September 12, 2010

I said, "Hurry Up!"

Peaceful day went to hell in 5 minutes flat and I don't think the neighbors will let their kids venture down to our end of the block ever again. I was trying to load the two younger kids in the car for 7yr-old-boy's soccer game. The whole time there was this bee that was trying to get in with them. A dozen or so times I said, "Hurry up, there's a bee trying to get in." "Hurry up, there's a bee trying to get in." As I'm repeating this mantra to the two slooooowest car-getter-inners I have ever seen, I keep shooing the bee away from the car with the soccer field directions. The bee is getting M-A-D.

In an attempt to keep the bee out and save myself from the pending doom of getting stung by the now seriously honked off bee, I slam the back door. Instantaneous, blood curdling screams ensue from the backseat. How was I supposed to know that "Hurry up, there's a bee trying to get in." "Hurry up, there's a bee trying to get in." translates to "Take your time and, by all means, keep an appendage hanging out the door until you feel it is the right time to pull it in with the rest of your body." in 6yr-old-girl speak?

So she is howling in the back of the car as if I have severed her leg and she will never be able to walk again. Oh, and the bee is now IN THE F-ING CAR!!!! Fantabulous. At this point, I proceed to throw an oh-so-attractive fit of my own (I really do hate bees). I threw my keys to the ground and issued a string of profanities that, if my neighbors did in fact hear me yelling while my child screamed bloody murder, would have any local parent thinking twice before letting their kid visit my yard anytime soon. I rounded this performance out by stomping back into the house leaving the shrieks from the driveway behind.

Once in the house, I realized I actually had to be somewhere and hiding inside wasn't going to accomplish a damn thing. So back out to the car I went. 6yr-old-girl had stopped shrieking and was doing that weird can't-catch-my-breath-I-was-crying-so-hard thing, 7yr-old-boy handed me my keys, and the bee's instinct was apparently the same as my own because he had fled the premises. All I kept thinking and saying was, "This wasn't my fault. It should not take someone *that* long to get all of their limbs in a car!" No one seemed to agree, least of all 6yr-old-girl.

The whole episode did result in husband climbing up on a ladder and spraying the hornet nest at the peak of the garage before we left. We'll ignore the fact that this caused the bees to swarm all over the place and we had to run from the car to the front door when we returned home. I figure in another couple months when things (with stingers) freeze over, I'll be able to pull into the garage again.


  1. Oh god this feels like a day in my life except that in my case it was a harmless but annoying stink bug.

    Hope today is better!

  2. You sound like me, and they sound like my kids. Along with the, "It's not my fault" bit, do you ever find yourself blaming them for making you lose your temper and cuss like a sailor, as though you're some kind of demented abusive boyfriend? "Look what you made me do!!" "Why do you always push until you make me angry?!"

    By the way, what appendage did you slam in the door? Did it survive? I've come thisclose to that myself.

  3. "Why do you always push until you make me angry?!" is reserved for my husband. LOL

    It was her leg and she was fine upon arrival at the soccer fields, not even the slightest gimp. ;)