Fear Factor: HIGH

*2006 post*

Anyone who has been outside with me during the summer months for, say... about 10 minutes, can attest to the fact that I am TERRIFIED of bees. Terrified as in a lot of yelping and shrieking and swatting and frantic running about. I've been this way for as long as I can remember. I don't know how many times my dad has said to me over the years, "That bee is more afraid of you than you are of it." or "If you just stay still, it will fly away." (RIGHT!) Those little helpful hints never really took root. As a 31 year old wife and mother of three, I am still hopping and flailing wildly whenever a buzz is heard nearby.

And I swear that to the bee world I wear a sign that says, QUEEN BEE in very large, very bold letters, because they flock to me, and I do mean flock. My sister was in town on Monday and all of us decided to go raspberry picking. ("All" included my sister, her three children, my mom, myself, and my three children.)

We got to the berry field, parked, gathered our containers and headed to find the most fruitful row of berries. I had about 15 berries in my bucket when, out of nowhere, I heard it. And yelped and flailed. And then I felt it. (Meaning: I got stung.) And the shrieking began in earnest. This all happened quite suddenly so the details are a bit fuzzy but this is what I remember: the feeling that there was a bee stuck in my hair, and the sound of loud buzzing. I figured I would help Mr. Bee get away by pulling my hair out of my ponytail and running my hands through my hair to get it out. As fast as I possibly could. As I did this, (all the while screaming and hopping about), I anticipated that my sister (who was the closest to me) would come to my rescue and help me get the attacking bee out of my hair. Instead, I overheard my sister yelling at the kids to get away and running.in.the opposite.direction. At that point it dawned on me that it was not ONE bee I was battling, it was a multitude of bees. (That realization hit about the same time I heard my sister say, with alarm, "They're all over the place!") Hence the loud buzzing and multiple stings.

So I began running towards my sister and all of the kids, all the while still trying to get the bees out. They must have left at some point. I was sobbing by this time. And not just from fear, but because I really had been stung many times, and my head was hurting. My daughter was sobbing, too. So, amidst tears, I assured every worried little one that I was okay, held my daughter and reassured my son, and picking resumed. My mom (who had been searching out another spot during this entire event), called us over to her row (better berries!) and everyone marched happily over to resume picking. You can imagine how exhuberant I was to put my hand back in those nice shady bushes. I was literally trembling and I'm pretty sure my two-year old picked more than I did for the day.

Next time, (if I can garner enough courage to EVER frequent a field again; those flats you can purchase are really looking quite appealing) I am SERIOUSLY wearing one of those full-on beekeeper outfits.