Friday, April 12, 2013

Our Genetically Modified Catastrophe.

Well, Henry said 'shit' yesterday.

It was bound to happen.  With a mother like me.

Although I am very good about not swearing in front of my children, I was forced to do battle with a giant, mutant killer bee that was trying to sting me in my jugular in the middle of my kitchen.

I dare you to not say 'shit' when you are doing this.

I had tried to kill the bee/wasp/vampire yellow jacket (I'm not sure what it was, but I guarantee you, it was not natural) ten minutes prior.  But all I did was piss it off. 

I presume I unknowingly bred this beast-insect myself, by accident. 

Stupid me, trying to be a good mother (I always get myself in trouble when I try and do that) I buy fruits and vegetables for my children to snack on.

Come to find out, you're not actually a good mother unless you take label reading classes, (which I'm sure are offered at your local Whole Foods!) and do extensive research to make sure none of your produce is genetically modified and has never been touched by an errant chemical molecule other than pure spring-fed water and liquid love.

I guess that's a great lesson to learn early on;  Motherhood is a tricky bitch.  Just when you think you're really on a roll, someone is going to tell you you're killing your children by not buying organic apples or by giving your child a baby carrot.  I guess baby carrots are a big chemically leaden no-no.  Color me surprised to find out that if I feed Henry carrots in that form, I may as well just dump chlorine all over him and light him on fire. 

I suppose my only option is to hire live-in help so I can fly down to Guatemala and source my own produce, fresh from the jungle.  I'm sure I'll have to be quarantined for an unspecified amount of time and when I get back Addie will be starting Kindergarten, but it will still be cheaper than buying an organic orange at Fresh Market.

Sorry, I got side-tracked.  It's probably a mental defect because I just ate a strawberry from Walmart. 

Very likely the same strawberry that the mutant bee-wasp snacked on before he grew fangs, breathed fire and decided to try and kill me.

The mutant was seen and heard buzzing in the kitchen light fixture (As Henry reminded me on repeat for 10 solid minutes.)

Henry: "Mommy, there's a bee in the light.  Bzzzzzzz. Mommy there's a bee in the light. Bzzzzzzzzz. Mommy, there's a bee in the light. Bzzzzzzzzzzz.  Mommy, there's a bee in the light. Bzzzzzzz. Mommy there's a bee in the light. Bzzzzzz........x 5000."

Me:  "Okay, go stand over there, love.  I'm going to get it so it doesn't kill us all."  (I guarantee if he grows up with an irrational fear of bees, I had nothing to do with it.)

I had already managed to show it my cards by trying to beat it with a JC Penny coupon catalogue. (Which I think just angered it even more.  In retrospect, the mutant bee-wasp just wanted to die with some dignity;  at the hands of the J. Crew Spring Catalogue.  It's the way I would want to go.)

In flashbacks, I remember seeing a glimpse of the wasp-bat as it emerged from the fixture and flew straight at my head. 

I screamed and danced around swinging blindly.

I vaguely remember noticing that there was no more incessant buzzing.  Which I slowly realized meant that the wasp-bat-snake was no longer airborne. 

However, I circled slowly and couldn't see it anywhere...

And then in a very "the call is coming from inside the house" moment, I realized I couldn't find it because it was on me.

And then I blacked out.

Me:  "Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit."

Finally, after an undetermined amount of time, I bested the bee-spider and it lay twitching on the kitchen floor.

Staring down at it, Henry said the same thing we all do when we've witnessed something so horrific and or awesome that our brain is having trouble processing it:

Henry:  "Shit, mommy."

It was hard to argue with that assessment.

I guess the real irony is, I'm told the world will end when all the bees are gone.

Maybe the upside is, by that time the evil (but, conveniently inexpensive) genetically modified food we've been ingesting will have given us superpowers.  Like wings. 

Probaby wings and gills. 

So we will be able to escape into the sea and survive the beeless catastrophe that I, once again unknowingly, and with the best of intentions, created for myself.