Irrational Fears

I have two of them.



Sirens and wasps.



I am a grown woman. Why I have such fears, remains a mystery. Just when I thought I was on the road to recovery (as evidenced in this post), a minor incident puts me at square one.


Picture this. A very confident, fearless, dignified mother...wait a minute, that's not right. A... mother is walking on the sidewalk with her 3 adorable children on her way to afternoon Kindergarten. And out of freaking nowhere, a "honeybee" as Kara so naively puts it, flies into the little puff of bangs that are pinned back on the top of her head.


Honeybee. Calling it that makes it sound so innocent. Does this sucker look innocent to you?





Uh, I don't think so.


Anyway. This isn't the first time a bug or bee or something, has gently "bumped"' into my hair and continued on it's merry way, leaving me with the passing thought, "I sure am glad I didn't wear a lot of hairspray today." This particular time, I had the same thought which was quickly replaced with a sinking feeling that I did go a little out of control with the hairspray earlier that morning.




Very calmly, I asked Colby to look on top of my head to see if there was a bee there. While quickly nodding his head he said, "Oh no Mom. There is!" And that was it. A grown-up fit. A display of pure fanatical madness at it's best. I don't remember exactly what happened but I'm pretty sure it involved me whipping my head to and fro and a convulsing body. I do remember tripping over the stroller and landing on the hard pavement. I have skinned elbows to prove it.
Since I wasn't sure the wasp was gone, I popped up and began yelling at my five-year-old to get it out. By then I was half laughing, half completely beside myself and all I could do was repeat, "Colby! Get it out!" It was then that I realized I would never be able to count on my five-year-old to reach up and swat a wasp from my nest of a head. What a sad moment.



As quickly as I could, I swiped my own hand across the top of my head several times and then through the rest of my hair in case it had burrowed it's evil little body farther in. It seemed to have disappeared but I was not yet satisfied. I saw, nor heard, any evidence of it flying away. Without a mirror or any trust at all in my small children (I mean, come on. Who wouldn't swat a wasp off of their poor mother's head?), I made a snap decision. I would ask the ten-year-old girl who I scarcely knew, who was behind us a small distance, if my head was indeed empty of any "honeybees." It wasn't until I saw the look on her face as she answered, "no," that I lost any dignity that I may have had left.



When I was absolutely certain the honeybee had decided to make it's nest elsewhere, I kept looking around to see if anybody else was around to witness the hilariously ridiculous incident, and then I giggled the rest of the way to the school. Kind of like when you trip while you're all alone. And you look even sillier when you're giggling to yourself. And when I got home, I checked in the mirror. Just in case.


Before you judge me, wouldn't you have done the same if say, a spider had decided to make his home in your hair? Yes. Yes you would.


I am 31. And I am scared of wasps. And if it was late at night, Cameron was gone, and a wasp decided to make an appearance in my bedroom just as an ambulance's siren began to quietly fill the air- I'm pretty sure I'd cry like a baby.