In my mind, I am the daughter of a hippy. Live and let live. Laying on the grass, bare feet and wild hair. I am all those things – until a bee comes along. Then I become an instant nutcase. I hate bees, wasps, pretty much any flying insect – except butterflies. Any crawling insect – except ladybirds, out for a stroll between flights. Woodlice, centipedes and spiders, are my personal hell. I once had a dream, that I was being chased by a giant woodlouse. It was horrific.
My disdain for nature also extends to livestock; cattle, pigs, goats etc. Chicken, sheep and horses are fine; Llamas are just a little creepy. I can’t tell you why I feel this way, I just do. Maybe it’s the smell or the flies, that surround that smell. Maybe it’s being up close and personal, to a species, that openly takes a dump in public. I just don’t know. For me, it’s a thing. It’s crippling.
At a recent family braai, I literally left the table hungry. We were all eating al fresco and there were wasps aplenty. At one stage, there was one in my lap and two in my food. I took my wine and went inside. Bugger that!
I recently took my daughter to a farm. Trying to be a cool parent, showing my child, the wonder of our planets creations. On arrival I was flapping my arms around like moron, batting away the flying bits of grim. Uncool. I uttered my first coherent sentence, after 10 minutes, to my friend:
‘I will punch that llama in the face, if it spits at my child!’
Ok! I need to chill. Please note, there were no punches thrown at any time. I am just not good in this environment. My daughter and I fed a goat, we observed ponies, cows, chickens and pigs. My friend took my girl right up close, to see the little piglets, that were nine days old. I was walking far ahead, the smell of excrement was suffocating.
I am determined not to pass this characteristic on to my daughter. I keep a firm lid, on my crazy tin, when I am around her. I will show her everything that I can. I want her likes and dislikes to be her own. If she passes me a worm, next time we are in the garden; I will gratefully receive that tosser with a smile. At the moment my child is fearless. She is barefoot, laying on the grass with wild hair. She is happy. She wants to stroke bees and get up close to spiders and marvel at their webs.
I say many things over and over as a parent. One of those things is ‘don’t be afraid Angel, I got you’.
I have many fears. Some justified. Some that make no sense whatsoever. In the end, their origin is irrelevant. If they have made it to fear list, they become a hurdle. Something to get over or overcome. Something that can paralyse and effect everyday. My daughter will have her own hang ups, it’s part of the human condition. She doesn’t need to feel the weight of mine.
Don’t be afraid my Angel, I got you. We do need to talk about your desire to stroke bees though. That’s not going to work out well for either of us! Xx