Just when you thought it was safe to take off your shoes…
We were getting ready for a trip to the Red Hook Recreational Center, Henry and I; it was a hot day, and we were going to spend it in an Olympic-sized toddler pool (oh, if only there were a toddler Olympics—can you imagine such a thing? The track-and-field contenders, wandering off during the 800 to demand some Goldfish? The steroid-fueled tantrums? The swimmers trying to execute a perfect breaststroke while wearing water wings? I COULD GO ON). Ten inches deep all around and surrounded by sprinklers, the toddler pool is sort of like standing in a clogged gutter during a heavy rain storm—but for Henry it means hours of unmitigated joy, so I slosh around while he shrieks and whoops and blaaarrghs.
I was searching through Henry’s various piles of clothing for his bathing suit when Henry came to see what I was up to. As he walked my way, he glanced down, said, “Oh!” and leapt into my arms. “Big bee!” he cried. I looked down at where he was pointing, and hmm, there seemed to be a caterpillar or something on his carpet, what could that be OH SWEET CHRIST OH MOMMY MOMMY HELP ME---
I knew the last time I encountered a waterbug wouldn’t be the last time, literally. But usually, as I have noted in the past, any waterbugs out in the open have had the decency to at least be at death’s door. But this waterbug wasn’t even a little sick. It wasn’t flailing about piteously. It was not coughing. It was ambling across my son’s carpet, perfectly healthy, and heading right toward us.
Clutching my slightly freaked son in my arms, I jumped over it OH GOD OH GOD and ran toward the living room. “Sit here, Henry!” I cried out calmly. “Watch some TV! Don’t move! Mommy will be right back! Mommy wants to die, but that’s okay!”
“Big bee!” he repeated.
“There’s nothing to worry about!” I shrieked. “It’s just a nice bug paying us a visit!"
He didn’t look like he was buying it, so I added, “Ha, ha!”
I grabbed the canister of ant-and-roach death spray, and tried to head toward Henry’s room. Only I couldn’t move. And there was this whimpering sound. Coming out of my head. I had to do something! My child was staring at me. “Just a fly!” he called out helpfully. Yes. Yes, I will pretend it’s just a fly. A giant fly with long spindly legs and inch-long antennae and a fingernail-thick carapace who emerged from the depths of our basement to spread disease and ick all about my son’s carpet, OH PLEASE NO--
No, I would need more than that to go in there and get the job done.
So I named it! A waterbug with a name will not scare me, I reasoned with my usual infallibility! I shall name him Sean! No, better—Shaun. The unfortunately named Shaun lives in his mom’s basement and still feathers his hair; he most definitely cannot terrorize the likes of me. I would enter my son’s room and put poor Shaun out of his misery. Oh, Shaun—you never had a chance in this world.
The story of what happens after this is long and drawn-out and involves much screaming and clutching of the hair and whacking and spraying (while the child sat on the couch, watching Noggin and calling out every few minutes, “Just a fly! Bzz!”) All I can tell you is that in the end, Shaun’s corpse lay underneath a Tupperware container, waiting for my husband to come home and give him a decent burial. As for Henry, he spent the day getting as wet and wild as a toddler can legally become, while his mother followed him around, staring off into the distance with a haunted expression on her face, shuddering at some unseen horror.










August 29, 2004
Reader Comments (27)
And if THAT grossed you out, check THIS out...
http://queserasera.org/archives/000825.html
... a similarly horrible roach story.
Hope your case of the heeby-jeebies subsides soon.
.!!
On a separate note, I've been reading your blog for a couple weeks now, and I can relate to you so much. Thanks!
And then I came to your %#^# site (beautifully hilarious though it is) a few months ago and the water bug-beetle association was destroyed and replaced by the horrifyng water bug-roach association.
But you have redeemed yourself which was hard because we adore you in our house so very much you could hardly be esteemed higher--because a water bug-Shaun Cassidy association totally, totally beats the water bug/beetle association. I've lost all fear. Disgust, I still have. But fear is now gone.
Back in my day, we had bugs like that, but they were 40x bigger! They'd be bigger than us, and there would be nothing we could do about it! We'd be running around crying while a gigantic cockroach would be spewing acid in our faces, and we had to just sit there and take it! One time I was fighting this 7 footer back in 43' and he laid egg's in my brain! And then I lost all my memory, and to this day, I cant remember anything for more that 2 minutes...... Back in my day, we had bugs like that, but they were 40x bigger!
Okay, so I just spent my Friday night reading every one - yes, every one - of your entries. Up to this point, I've delighted in a regular dose of Mimi Smartypants and now my husband is REALLY going to groan as I keep laughing loudly and tearing up as I read ANOTHER one.
Thank you for sharing your experiences so damn cleverly (is that a word?)
And tonight I had yet another "I must be old" revelation. It's Friday night and I spent the whole evening reading one blog.
Yay Old!
Things you do not want to hear when you are home with daughter and Daddy is not there?
1. "Mom, somethings in my shoe...when I put it on it like...crunched." (and then the ensuing hysterics when said "thing" is dumped out of shoe)2. "Mom, I can't get my soccer uniform out of the dryer...there is a tiny black bird flying around in there." ( 20 minutes before we have to be a soccer practice)3. Mom, did you give the cat some kind of new black pom pom toy? He sure is going nutty over it. (and then the reality check)4. A MOUSE ran across my foot!!! (No, sweetheart...that was no mouse)
and finally...the scenario you do not want to have..
Hubby: okay girls...bathroom clear...bug gone...Mom of 35: almost time for bed...take your showerChild of 10: nope...not going in there.Mom of 35: you know there is no time in the morning, besides Daddy said the bug is gone..TAKE YOUR SHOWER!!Child of 10: nope...there could be others and they could come up through the drain while I shower. They are called water bugs because of that.Mom of 35: Get in there now and no fooling!Child of 10: Okay no problem you come in with me and protect me.Mom of 35: No way I'm going in there!!You're on your own kiddo!Child of 10: Daddy! Mom is being a chicken!!Mom of 35: yes I am...take your shower.
Christi
Good God woman. I almost peed in my panties. You are hilarious.
Now, I was already familiar with water bugs. "Palmetto bugs," we called 'em in Florida. Whatever you call 'em, they're big-ass roaches. But I didn't know everything.
Came home one day to find one of these monstrous bastards perched on my living room wall. "Aha!" says I to myself. "One shot of Raid will take care of him." So I get the Raid and give him a good squirt.
And it's then that I learned a major truth about Texas roaches: They eat Raid for lunch.
Damn thing flew right at me. "Jeezis! They fly!!??!
Well, after he landed on another wall (and my heart rate had settled down to a leisurely 200 beats per minute), I just took off my shoe and smashed him with the heel. Left a nice ding in the wall, but at least I knew he was dead.
Now I knew. In Texas, they don't kill 'em; they give 'em names. Put saddles on 'em.Yeef.