Cheech and I had just cozied up on the couch. Work has been very tough for us lately and we have not been able to relax together. The kids were outside playing and we were alone. It was one of those comfortable, satisfied sighs. Then the shrieking began. Not loudly, not at first. But it became more desperate, needy, terrified. I jumped up from the couch and dashed out the door. It was coming from my kids.
Ben has just learned how to climb into our front yard tree. It has awesome branches for sitting, thinking, hiding. Yes, well there he is standing way at the top, screeching. Maddie is hopping up and down at its base yelling "Bees! Bees!"
Let us pause. Does anyone remember my two greatest fears? Mice. And? Ding-ding. Bees. I am going to be forty someday and I still run like a sissy with my shoulders back half-hissing half screaming but utterly sobbing if one should cross my path. Sweat coldly slathers my upper lip and stings my armpits. My scalp is tingling. Ben is still screaming and crying...but Cheech and I both attack that tree like contestants on a Japanese game show, scaling it. Now in the mean time most of the neighborhood is standing and watching; wondering what is going on.
Winston has pried the door open and is now barking around the base of the tree; concerned and excited...until he spies four dogs being walked into our cul-de-sac. He wants to share the news and goes over to introduce himself with a butt-sniff and a quick whiz. These dogs however are unimpressed; so much so that they begin to growl and attack my lil Winston who also begins to shriek. Cheech is closer to Ben in the tree so I jump down and run into the mess of dogs to pull winston free. (Marlon Perkins strikes AGAIN!!! Someone needs to find that theme song and send it to me! hahahahaha!) There is snarling and snapping but I don't think I injured any of the strangers too seriously. Their owners are standing there. STANDING there asking if they can help. ????
This is an appropriate time to place these three letters: WTF? What the... If you aren't sure....It begins with "f" and ends in "uck" Nope. Not Firetruck. Sorry. (Thanks Frangie!) I sharply hollar "Yeah, could you PLEASE walk your dogs on the other side of the street for a few minutes....?" and toss Wee-man into the house. I'll check him for wounds later.
I turn and pull an OJ Simpson; jumping over the skateboards and golf clubs in the garage to get back to the tree where everyone in the neighborhood is trying to coax Ben down. Cheech has a hold of him, but can't get him down out of the branches to the ground. I am rushing to get there but Ben will fall. He's not thinking clearly. He doesn't understand...he just hurts. Our saving grace came in the name of our neighbor Ray who is tall and could reach up and get Ben on the ground. I zoomed in, snatched him from Ray greedily and bolted for the house, yelling thank you THANK YOU! He then helped Cheech get down too.
I clear the counter and set him down, ripping off his shirt, praying that he's only been stung once. Please don't let me find bees in his clothes and hair.... My mouth is dry and my teeth are grinding. I am expecting the angry hum as bees materialize and begin to assault us both. THere are none. It was a fly-by. Lone shooter. Long gone. Ben is hiccuping and trying to tell me where he's stung. "I-aye-aye w-w-w-asss-sss -tuh-uh-huh ooowww nnn th-th-th-eh-eh ha-ha-ha-"
HAND! Sure enough his "bird" knuckle is swollen. Whew. My shoulders relax a tiny bit. Maddie is filling ice packs for Winston and her brother. She is pulling band aids and fetching peroxide and Neosporin. Good girl. You can mend the world with this stuff. Ben is still hyperventilating but the tears have stopped. He quietly says "I was scared Mommy. I didn't know what to do. It hurt so bad."
"I know Honey. Bee stings hurt. You were brave though."
"Well, with screechin like that, you scared him away..and all his friends." Cheech chimes in. He hands Ben a Benadryl and me some tylenol. Although functioning, I am still sweating and have the "willies". You know that feeling like a hot slimy itch you can't scratch that crawls slowly down your spine...maybe it's just me. Ben smiles (that winning smile) and asks if I'll go get his bike. It's near the tree. I turn and proudly, gladly do so. My brave little man. He moves on. He quickly builds his bicycle ramp in the street and begins to jump. He enjoys telling the neighborhood kids "He wasn't scared. It didn't hurt that much." Winston burps and attacks his favorite toy. Life settles in.
When Ben gets ready for bed, he quietly comes to my office where I am furiously typing...before I forget. "Mommy?" and I feel his warm little hand on my shoulder. I turn and hug him over the arm of the chair. I smell soap and shampoo from his shower. I hug him a little tighter. "You and Daddy were brave. You saved me. I love you. Wanna see my sting?"
We look for it, but it is gone. I hug him again and off he goes; my little warrior. This time we could fix his hurt. I shine my mommy badge and I confess I am heading off to bed glad to be a hero. His hero.
G'night all. Thanks for coming. Until next time, may you be sting-free.
