Saturday, March 7, 2009

PSF: The Thin Mint Mooch

Yes, I am posting a PhotoStory Friday on Saturday. I have my reasons . . .

* * *

The sun . . . it was out. A light wind rustled the trees (the promise of a bud or two dancing in the wind). J and I peeked through the slats on the deck, staring at the deer that had gathered at the foot of the hill behind our house. I wasn't sure if he saw them or not, as they still blended in with the matted brown background, hints of green springing up around them.

We pulled out the bubbles. He laughed as he tried to catch them, then looked up at me as if to say, "Seriously, why should I exhaust myself if you are just going to continue to blow more?" He parked himself right in front of me. Raising his hand to catch them before they even had a chance to savor freedom. I hope he won't become the spoiler of fun. The kid who cocks a suspicious eyebrow as the magician pulls a quarter from behind an ear or detaches a thumb.

I sometimes like being clueless, in awe, enraptured. This is where J may be more like his engineer father . . . but I digress.

The phone rang and I stepped just inside the sliding glass doors off the deck. Within what seemed to be seconds J let out a scream. I had just hung up the phone and turned to see him rushing inside and swatting at his hands.

I knew what had happened in an instant.

They had been hibernating. The beasts. They had been locked in crevices deep in the ground, cracks in the siding. But, the warmth has prodded them awake. There was not the slightest hint of them only moments before. But now. They had attacked my son.

In only an instant I went from a calm, even-tempered, patient, relaxed individual to a raging lunatic with nothing but insecticide on my mind.

Wasp. You. Are. DEAD. Don't even try hiding.

Within only seconds I grabbed an icepack, planted it on J's hand and hunted down the attacker and reduced him to a smear on the bottom of my shoe.

I returned my attention to J who sat rigid in my arms, tears running down his cheeks, screams continuing to come out of his rounded mouth. He looked up at me as if he barely recognized me. Had the murder of the insidious bug done damage to my innocent child?


It was me.

I was still screaming. Ranting. Spewing odd expletives ("flippin' fudge buckets") while damning every flying creature with a stinger to a life roasting in hell fires.

I'd lost it.

J started sucking in breath as I tried to calm him. He wiped at his nose, snot smearing across his face as it mixed with his tears. I hugged him and told him it would all be okay that mommy was right here.

He cried harder.

The next few minutes had me examining every square inch of him. Checking for even a hint of a stinger or where a stinger may have at one time been. I was frantically on the phone to my pediatrician (lunch time), the ER (bring him in), my mother (take him to the ER--"Iwilljumpinmycarthisinstantandtravel300milestocomfortmypoorgrandson"--yeah, that's just what I needed), my husband (voice mail--we won't even go into the message I left . . . not suitable for even an average audience), a friend with a toddler (not home--how dare she?!).

By this time J was calming down. I was no longer screaming. There was a baking soda paste on his hands and his head was resting on my shoulder.
Freak mommy stopped freaking out. (I need to add something here. I screamed for at least 5 minutes--as did poor J. I would have thought it would have brought at least a neighbor to my door, maybe even the police. I was so thankful that my screams didn't. But thinking about it later, I am wondering if by chance I am ever attacked by some crazed serial killer if my neighbors will bother coming to my rescue. I'm beginning to wonder . . . ).

A call back. The pediatrician. She was calm. She even laughed as she said, "Those first stings are usually way worse for mom than for baby."


I had no idea.

For the next hour we sat on the couch. Where I allowed him to mooch Thin Mints while he watched Elmo. Yes, we don't often watch TV, nor do we eat while watching TV (I mean, that's what I'm going to tell him), and we don't mooch mommy's Thin Mints.

But somehow, at that moment, he could have whatever he wanted . . .
and with that, psycho mommy took a really deep breath.

* * *

PhotoStory Friday
Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek


Jenn @ Juggling Life said...

Ouch. This is definitely one of those harder on mom than the child things. I'm glad you had the recuperative power of Thin Mints to help you out.

Angela DeRossett said...

I remember our first stings...the day I brought my second child home and first son found a nest of ground hornets. I hadn't figured out the 'click in', 'click out' carseats yet. You will never forget it. LOL

((HUGS)) Mom.

S said...

I'm laughing. (Sorry.) It's just that I remember when my Seven was first stung (he was two). MUCH worse for me than for him.

My Eleven? Hasn't been stung yet.

Kamis Khlopchyk said...

Oh boy, my kids have yet to be stung but I am sure my reaction will be similar. I am deathly frighted of bees and scream like a little girl if one so much as comes near me, never mind has the audacity to sting me or someone I love.

Death to all beings that tote stingers!!!

Tara R. said...

Living at the beach I had the same reaction when my son got his first jellyfish sting. Looked like someone had taken a switch to the back his legs, from his ankles to his knees. I think I cursed every sea creature from the dawn of man. I'm with ya! I'm glad to hear you both made a full recovery.

Aracely said...

Dude you need another baby stat! When a 3 boy gets stung we just run it under cold water but they're never allowed access to the thin mints, maybe for a broken bone, but a sting?!? Cold water! ;-)

Jennifer said...

oh nooo! We thankfully haven't had to deal with that drama yet :( Wasps are nasty little buggers. Thin Mints make everything better though :)

tommie said...

We had a wasp sting last scary!

crazymumma said...

when my elder was but one and a half one of those fuckers stung her just around where her heart was.

To say I freaked out was and understatement.

Unknown said...

ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS worse for mommy than for baby, regardless if it's the first.

Mooshing thin mints was the perfect elixir, I am sure.

Woman in a Window said...

I am feeling very deficient as a mom. I'm afraid I had a very stiff upper lip, checked for stinger, looked at sting site, eyes, lips, no swelling, out out out, out we go, to play it off. WTF? Should I have screamed? Like I said, I'm feeling very deficient. But I like your story better.

Quarantine Hobby said...

Oh! Poor kid! I'm glad everything is okay.

And that picture of him is TOO cute. I'm sure some Elmo and the cookies made him ALL better.

Karen said...

The first sting is the worst. I remember freaking out big time, too. Poor little guy.

Sage Ravenwood said...

My daughters first sting she didn't cry, I did. She was sitting there with those huge doe eyes stiffling the cry her lip getting sucked into a pout. It broke my heart and I started crying. She reached up and wanted to know why I was crying and that made her cry more than the sting ever did. Yeah, I was a huge puddle. (Hugs)Indigo

Lindsey said...

Hi Psycho Mommy! You've definitely got company in that club! So thankful that baby J is recovering. It is so very hard to watch your baby in pain! I don't even want to think about it....

I think you handled the situation wonderfully;)

Unknown said...

Poor little buddy and poor mom! Hopefully everyone has recovered!!

tiarastantrums said...

oh the poor dear - I actually freak like you for good reason - my daughter is allergic - so you had absolutely every reason to have a freak out session - you didn't know - your little man could have been allergic!

Colleen - Mommy Always Wins said...

Aw, poor babe! Hope you're both feelin' better now - and I hope there are some thin mints left!

Kori said...

I would totally FAKE a sting if there were thin mints at hte end of it. Good mommy!

Anonymous said...


You are going to make him an addict. Just like the rest of us!

justmylife said...

I remember that first sting. I think it is worse for mom. Glad he did OK and that you shared your Thin Mints. Sharing Thin Mints is the sign of a good mom. heh!

Momisodes said...

OMG! Poor thing.

I would have freaked, too. My daughter, nor I, have been stung by a bee or wasp...yet.

I really would have fah-reeked, and then called everyone like you did.

And half of those thin mints would have gone down my pie hole.

p.s. We will miss you dearly during your bloggy break :(

Cynthia said...

Hey are keeping in touch with me? In response to your above post...

Mighty Morphin' Mama said...

Good thing a cookie can make it go away. Poor guy, poor you!

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