Our Sunday outing was cut short yesterday, due to none other than an ant hill.
We went to a park, new for us; it’s a beautiful wooded landscape that is wide open, far from roads and of course, very much in the shade. This may become our new summer park. We brought the T-ball set, bubbles, football (soccer ball) and net, and scores of other outside toys. We had intended to spend our afternap there.
We arrived, parked and Squishy lead us through a very unbeaten path in the hopes of seeing horses (this is not totally random, there is an equestrian school in the park). I’m not terribly sure why she felt horses would be hidden behind shrubs and trees on a path that was overgrown and not quite what I would call pleasant, but she was determined. Perhaps she felt all the horse poop on the path was a good sign we would find horse. In the end, we didn’t, so we stopped to play all the games that Hubby and I had carried with us on this trek.
Crazy was having ups and downs with T-Ball, but generally having a good time. I think I was putting the ball back on the tee, when I heard Squishy start freaking out. It wasn’t a scream, or a shout, but a sound that was much worse, a sound that Hubby and I recognized as total and complete panic. My heart skipped a beat, I looked up at her, she was standing on an ant hill and her legs were covered in ants. Hubby got to her first and started wiping the ants off, while she remained standing on the anthill (sort of reminded me of shoveling in a snowstorm, but I digress).
I stepped over, moved her off the ant hill and brushed her legs clean. Removed her shoes and de-anted them as well. She was so distraught we needed to leave the park. Her fear of these ants was close the Crazy’s fear of chihuahuas, total and complete meltdown, inability to move or speak. I hate seeing my kids like that.
As we walked back to the car-during which time I was getting a mother of a cuddle from Squishy-Hubby told me how proud he was of me. I think I reassured him as a parent; I demonstrated that my children’s needs, when it really matters, will come before my own. What Hubby knows, that very few know is that I too have a pathologically, irrational fear of ants.
I would like to say it is an inexplicable fear, but as an adult I now know why. I had hoped in knowing that I would get over it, but no luck. I spent years and years having recurring nightmares of ants who consume an entire person. I no longer have the nightmare, thank goodness (though of course tonight I will…naturally), but I never knew why. The dream was always the same and exceptionally vivid, it was more like a memory than a dream, but I assure you, I have never seen a human consumed by ants, or so I thought.
Turns out, it was a memory. Shortly after Hubby and I moved in together, we started watching Stargate SG1 (yes we are geeks, and I don’t care, I love that show), and after watching MacGyver at work in other worlds and space and stuff, we decided we wanted to watch the real MacGyver all over again. So we…hmm, bought the DVDs…and started from season 1. We got to episode 3 (or maybe 4…I don’t remember) and my dream was on the screen in front of me.
It turns out I was (ok fine, am) a little sensitive and I need to be careful about what I watch on T. V.
So in summary, MacGyver ruined my life and gave me a phobia so ridiculous that I don’t usually talk about it. I mean really, who is afraid of tiny insects that don’t really do anything except eat picnic food. Well, it turns out, I am that ridiculous and after the stupid ant hill yesterday, I suspect Squishy will be joining my support group. Stupid ants.
PS. Writing this post made me itch all over and I double checked my feet about 12 times for ants.
PPS. For any of the jackasses out there, I’m not afraid of 1 ant, so trying to get me to freak out for your own pleasure by showing me an ant won’t work.