Thursday, June 13, 2013

Woman vs Wasp. Wasp 1, Woman 0.

So I'm getting ready to go to the YMCA to try a Pilates class—big mistake, that, by the way. My first Pilates class in years. I sneak to the back of the room, I unroll my mat, and start a down-facing dog to stretch before class when the teacher shouts:

“THIS IS NOT YOGA! I am sick and tired of people doing yoga stretches in my class! PLANK! PLANK ONLY! I am a PILATES teacher. I don't DO yoga!!”

I assume she just came off of an unpleasant tour of duty in the military so I will let it pass. I planked.  Finished it out and deleted that class from my schedule. Deep breaths, my friend. Deep breaths. Read my last post and relax.

Anyway! Back at home, preparing for this class, finding hairbrushes and elastics for girls, and two sneakers that match for me, I hear the following, in annoyed tone:

“Momma, there's a spider on the curtain.”

“Okay Cecilia, I'll get him.” I have no problem with spiders. I gulp down a vitamin.

“Mommy... THE SPIDER HAS WINGS!!” A note of horror in her voice now.

I froze, drink in hand. Crrrrap.

WASP. (shudder) My insect nemesis.

“Uh... stay put Cece!! I'm... coming!!!” Oh. Oh oh oh. Why was there no one bigger, older, stronger, wiser and braver around? Why why why...

I slide into the room, just in time to see a wee bit too large black object pass in silent, straight, foreboding flight, neatly turning to disappear into the next room.

“Oh no! Mommy, he FLIED!”

Gosh I hate those things. Worst insect ever. Direct result of the Fall. Proof of the Curse. Destroyer of peace. Decimator of happiness. Singular vessel of horror. Cause of hyperbole.

How could any living thing be so incredibly ugly?? Groan.

The blasted thing's in the kitchen. Kids are placed in front of “Olivia and the Neverland McStuffins” or whatever.

I consider my choices of weaponry:



Naturally, we have no wasp killer spray. Cuz it's poison, that's why. And because I like to pretend I live in a world where I won't be alone in the house with these things. Like ever.

BSST. BSST. The unmistakable sound of a the Wasp Bump, attemtping to see if the glass on my window is permeable. My bedroom window. Right beside me.

Folks, I did what any of you would have done in such dire circumstances. I ran and screamed and slammed the door. And locked it. And left my husband the following message at work.

“Uh, honey? There's a wasp in the house. But don't worry, I've got him cornered. He's in our room. And he will probably prefer the window, so I don't expect him to go into the laundry piles or crawl in the bedsheets. Right??? I mean, they don't do that... right????”

And I put the kids in the van and drove to pilates to get yelled at.

I'm doing the mature thing and sleeping upstairs with my kids tonight.

"When I am afraid, I will put my trust in You." Psalm 56:3

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