Would I Take the Bullet?

As a mother I would like to say that I would take a bullet for my children and up until recently I would have said with no reservations that I would. I now question if my gut reaction would be to do so. I hope that in a situation that was severe I would do all I could for my kids, but I have found that, when put to the test, I didn't quite measure up.

We were on our way down to my parents house downtown the other day and I saw a bee in the car in my rear view mirror. It was flying around my little girl's head, which she had thankfully not noticed yet. I was filled immediately with fear, I do tend to be a fearful person about some things and bees do fall into that category. (I will have you know that I am getting better about the spiders though.) My thinking brought me the idea that perhaps rolling down her window would entice the bee out of the car. I rolled down the window and was hopeful that the bee would make a peaceful exit. Unfortunately that isn't what happened. I hear from the seat behind me a scream, followed by, "Mommy," sobbing and choppy breathing came between words, "bee hurt me!" I asked her where she was hurt. "Bee hurt me on my neck!" Still intense sobbing coming from the seat behind me.

My mind was all over, I kept trying to comfort her all the while thinking- where is that darn bee? I have to keep my eyes on that bee. What if it comes for me too? Don't misunderstand me here, I was worried about her as well as Smiles. I didn't know what type of bee it was, it could have been a yellow jacket or something that could sting more than once. I was close to my parents house, so I stayed on the road, my head hunched forward as far as it could go to keep the distance between me and the bee greater. Do you know part of the reason? Because I didn't want to have to get the bee out of the car! I was afraid of the bee so much that I didn't stop to check my little girl, I just talked her through it. Now, I could rationalize this by telling you that her father is allergic to bees and I don't know if I am because I have never been stung. My Dad is allergic as well...but I will choose to tell you the truth and be totally and completely embarrassed for the sake of honesty. Perhaps there is another mother out there that has been as selfish as I, who has to wonder if she would take the bullet for her kid. The rest of you leave us alone, we are not perfect! We cannot all be what you are you know, quit trying to hold us to your high standards. (I will stand up and fight for you, fearful mother. I will stand by you and support you...unless I have to actually endure any discomfort for you, then you are on your own.)

It turns out she wasn't stung. She is just a big baby like her mommy and stopped crying before we even reached Grandma's house. I guess she must have just heard it or something, but she was fine none the less. I still had Dad go out and check the car before we got in just in case because I am a big baby.

Then...we were at the park with Curly's best friend M and her mommy, B. The girls had been playing on the playground and had come over for juice boxes that I had brought. Neither of them ever gets full strength juice, so they were both very excited and into their drinks. (We have what I call wooce at our house. 1 part juice to about 8 parts water- very watered down.) Curly looked over at M's arm and noticed a bee on it. She casually said something like, "Bee on your arm M." M didn't even move. I swelled with panic. I reached for Smiles' blanket and tried to swing at the bee to get if off her arm, I was not brave enough to swat at it with my hands- are you kidding me! Unfortunate as it was, I actually swatted the bee into her hair! Not just on the outside edges of her hair, but mixed into it so much that her mother had to grab her hair and try to shake the bee out. Oh my, I was so embarrassed. I can't believe that I am so afraid of bees. At least I tried with this one...

Moral of the story is, never get caught in a situation where I have to defend you. You probably won't make it out alive.