Bees are Bad

It's apparently teacher's week.  My mother is a teacher.
It's apparently my mother's birthday.  My mother was born on Mother's Day.
It's apparently Mother's Day.  I love my mother.  And my godmother.  And my grandmothers.  And my adoptive mothers. And...

We should be doing something super fun and girly like getting manicures and celebrating them.  But we're not.  In fact, I don't think my mom is seeing any of her daughters on Mother's Day.

I could write something super sappy to go with the super sappy card and maybe send some flowers to... the car?  As I write this my parents are driving across the country to pick me up from another year of school.  I'm fervently studying for finals (can't you tell?) instead of packing to move home again.  Maybe a funny story would be better.

A couple of years ago my mom was planting bushes in our garden.  She jumped on the shovel and it went into the ground really easily.  When she pulled it out, she realized why: it was a bees nest.  Suddenly, bees began to swarm out of the ground around her.  She said it was like a cartoon as she ran across the yard trying to figure out what to do.  She couldn't go inside or they would infest our house.  She couldn't keep running forever.  Luckily, we have a pool.  Mentally she searched herself to see if she was wearing anything that wasn't water proof as she flung open the pool gate.  She pitched her gardening gloves onto the sidewalk as she slid into the pool under the cover.  It's an in-ground pool where the stairs don't have a cover but the rest of the pool does, so she made sure her head stayed underwater above the stairs but the rest of her body was under the pool cover.  She said she could see the bees swarming above where she was and eventually they went away.  When she finally poked her head out she saw Dad and my sister get in the car and drive away, oblivious to the backyard brouhaha and the fact that my fully-clothed mother was in the closed pool.  When all of the bees were gone, she got out of the pool and walked to the back of the house.  In the most pitiful voice she could muster she rang the intercom, "Will someone please bring me a towel?"

I did as I was told and Mom wrapped herself up the towel and pouted on the deck.  (My mom looks like Sarah Palin if you want to put an image of this in your head).  Of course, I laughed at her before finding some Benadryl for her bee stings since she had to stay outside.  The rule in our house is that after swimming you can't go inside until you don't leave a "butt print" anymore.  In other words, if you sit down on the deck, does your swimsuit make the deck wet?  Well, Mom was going to have a butt print for a very long time.  While we were waiting, the phone rang and we recognized the number as Dad's cell.

Mom [pitiful voice]: Bees are bad.
Dad: Tornados are worse; get in the basement.
Mom [looking around at the sunny, clear sky]: Now?
Dad: No, next week Wednesday.  Go!

Thanks to a tornado somewhere else in the county Mom broke her own "butt print" rule, and we were banished to the basement instead of enjoying our beautiful, sunny day outside.

I love you, Mom.

<>< Katie

PS: While we were picking out cards, Jo mentioned it's also nurse's week.  I think she just wanted us to buy her a card.  But my godmother is a nurse, so I suppose I could buy her a card.  Happy nurse's week, too!