Spring has stung

I'm definitely more of a fall/winter person. I love cold, crisp weather. Well, I actually don't like to be outside period, but I like being in the house in the winter with a fire in the fireplace, curled up with a book or baking something yummy and really bad for me. But unfortunately, it's now spring. Time for warm weather, more humidity, pollen, and stinging insects.

I hate bees, wasps, hornets, yellow jackets and anything else that flies, buzzes and stings. If you wonder why, just take a gander back here. And here. Oh and for the love of all things holy, don't forget here. Seriously, you need to go back and read those posts. It explains so much. It's worth the little extra reading.

Okay, you're back? Good. So see why I have this unnatural fear of stingy things? Not to mention I was stung by a sweat bee on the finger at the tender age of 3 and my dad wanted to put Skoal on it. I cried harder at him trying to put chew on it than the sting itself. If you read those posts from last October you know I was stung by a wasp when I was 6, I ate a yellow jacket when I was in high school . . . I just prefer ladybugs and butterflies and heck, I'd even prefer a rooster to a wasp. Stinging things + Spring = bad things happening to the diva.

So yesterday the temps were supposed to be up in the 80's and it was just too nice to keep the kids in the house all duct taped to the floor like I usually have them restrained. (Hey, it's become somewhat of a game around here. They like it. Trust me.) I put shoes on all the bare toes, including mine, and then took the Exersaucer out onto the carport. I noticed one dirt dauber, but that was it. In the time it took me to walk back into the house, retrieve one child and walk back out the Exersaucer was swarming with wasps! Okay, so maybe not really swarming, but still, there were a lot on it. Four even.

I ran back into the house, dropped previously retrieved child back into floor and made a mad dash to the kitchen to find the wasp spray. Of course, that child had gotten a taste of sunshine and fresh air and promptly began screaming. And that hence set forth a chain reaction of crying known among childcare providers everywhere as Why The Sitter Drinks Before Noon. I ran back through with two cans of wasp spray in hand. The children were instantly quiet. It must've been the wild look in my eyes and the paleness in my cheeks. I was all business. All I needed was some holsters, spurs and somebody to whistle that gunfight tune. (whoo-we-whoo-we-whooo....bwah bwah bwah) I was ready for action.

Now, anyone who actually knows me can attest that while I occasionally talk big on my blog and will sometimes even talk big to your face, I'm really a big ol' weenie. I know, shocking. The rooster debacle is a prime example. I try to remain brave for the kids' sake because I have a really unhealthy fear of stingy things and I don't want them to develop it as well, but it's hard to keep them from getting all worked up when I'm out on the carport, two cans of spray firing every few seconds at anything flying (that poor, poor blue jay) and I'm squealing like there's a squirrel in my pants. Seriously. I'd spray a wasp and then squeal. I'm sure it was humorous.

And I also learned a valuable lesson: Never spray wasp spray into the wind.

It even says so on the can. Who knew?