Preface:
Mosquitoes don’t like me…they never have – I don’t like them either. Mosquitoes love the kids – they love Amy even more. On occasion, a rogue mosquito will sting me – it’s not common, but it happens. On the scale of annoyances in life, mosquitoes are a pretty small one, their bites are rare, I don’t swell up, I don’t itch, may day goes on as normal.
Mosquitoes love Amy. I imagine them hiding just out of site on our front porch, holding their breaths in excitement, waiting for the moment Amy must leave the safety of our home…From the door to the car they swarm, she can have 20 bites in a matter of minutes. 20 huge bites, bites the size of a nickel, a large, red puffy nickel that begs to be scratched. I find myself uncontrollably chanting “stop scratching” all summer – I chant over breakfast, over dinner, while watching a movie – I even chant in my sleep – the chanting never helps, the scratching never stops.
Confession:
I use Amy and the kids to my advantage. I invite them outdoors with me all summer long – in the event there is a rogue mosquito, it will bypass me and go strait for them. Sad, but true. I know no shame, I should be sorry. I should take one for the team – but I don’t.
The Story:
On this long beautiful weekend – we spent a lot of time outdoors. There were no mosquitoes out – at least none in my world. I vaguely remember Amy telling me her and the baby were going inside – that mosquitoes were eating her alive. I absorbed none of this conversation.
Sunday night, I noticed a few bumps on Kahlo. Amy assured me they were mosquito bites, no big deal – “they were bad today” she tells me…
Today – Kahlo’s legs were covered in splotches. I became mildly obsessive. Did she have some exotic disease from a land far, far away? Again, Amy assured me they were mosquito bites. I watched them all day…”those aren’t mosquito bites” I say – “yes they are”, she says. “ They are spreading” I say – “no they are not”, she says. “They are getting worse, they are changing colors” I say – “they are the same” she says.
“Why aren’t you concerned? She could have a disease from a land far, far away! She could have the measles – of the German variety, what if it’s Chicken Pox? An allergic reaction!!!” I am flustered.
“No, no, those aren’t measles of any variety – those are mosquito bites”
I ask my friend who was spending the day with us…”would you be concerned?” “I don’t know” she says… usually I find my friend helpful – today, my friend was not helpful.
I studied her behavior all day, all night.
“She seems to feel ok” “she doesn’t have fever” “she is eating and playing as usual” I say.
“Of course she is” Amy is not concerned, she is sure they are mosquito bites, she is hungry.
I obsess… I can’t help it. I studied her legs all day – even in her sleep, I popped in to check on her, raising her pant leg to search for any signs of a spreading exotic rash, or even a non-exotic rash from not-so-far-away.
As I was telling my friend bye, standing on the front stoop, she starts smacking herself (smack, smack), she is becoming annoyed (smack)… “man!(smack, smack) Mosquitoes ARE bad (smack) here” (smack, smack, smack).
The Moral:
Ah, well…I know Amy is right. Amy is always right (as a person who prefers to be always right, I am little bitter about this)… Even still, I have checked on her twice since writing this –she is fine - slightly annoyed that I keep messing with her while she sleeps- but fine.
