Thursday, June 19, 2008

My Buggy, Buggy Home

I can't take it anymore. I don't even want to go outside on these beautiful summer days. The cicadas are everywhere around our area, EVERYWHERE. I know they don't bite or sting, but the sheer size and noise of them makes me shudder when they fly anywhere near me. They are loudest in the morning, and the noise ebbs and flows. It ramps up sometimes and the noise is clearly audible right through the closed windows. If you want some fresh air, you'd better be prepared to blast your television or radio. I dropped Pepper off for a playdate yesterday afternoon and ended up doing my involuntary-yelping thing when her friend had one caught in her hair. The little girl said calmly to me, "It's okay! They don't hurt you," picked it out of her hair and held it in her cupped hands. And because I'm a mature grown-up, I nearly threw up. That's when I realized two things: I am having an unusually negative reaction to these bugs, and I am not doing a very good job of hiding it from the kids. As a result, Peanut almost burst into tears when Pepper's friend released one in his direction and it landed on his arm. That's when I decided that it was time for that old standby: Fake It Until I Make It. I have very emotional kids, and I know I need to model less dramatic behavior for the littles if I don't want them to end up overreacting to everything. I try to save the Ativan for flying, but it's comforting to know I've got 'em if I need 'em. However, it still doesn't make me feel any less squicky when I am driving and they hit the car with the soft thud of a baby shoe being kicked onto the floor. In my defense, our particular neighborhood and area is heavily infested, while in other parts of the Cape people are thinking, "What is the big deal? I haven't seen any." To them, I flip the bird say - come on over! We've got more than enough for everybody!

1 comment:

  1. You know, in Provence they are revered.

    I don't get it either.