The kids leave the doors hanging open half the day and our house is full of mosquitoes that come out at night. Last night I spent 45 minutes with a wet towel whacking all the ones in my bedroom so I wouldn't spend another night being eaten alive (complete with dreams of being eaten alive). I finally felt like I had all those in my room and went into the hall to check the kids rooms. The hall had TEN mosquitoes on the walls and ceiling. Sophie's room had 8. I turned on the light in Ben/Noah's room and up on the wall by the top bunk where Ben sleeps was no less than 7 mosquitoes, right next to him. I killed one and it left a Ben-blood spatter on the wall.
Ben is covered in bites and sores (because he won't stop scratching them). He looks like he has chicken pox. Most of them are from sleeping, not from being outside! The bug spray I bought today said don't put on skin with any cuts or scrapes. Great.
Sophie looks like she has teenager acne, with bumps all over her face. The bug spray I bought said don't put on kid's faces except for very, very sparingly if at all.
It's really very frustrating to not feel like I can protect the kids. We can do mosquito nets, but they are $35 a piece for one that goes around the whole bed but still lets them crawl out (not tucked under the mattress). We may have two incomes now, but we won't be feeling like we do for a good six weeks, so that's not going to happen either.
Advice?
Oh, I do have advice for what to do after you have been bitten, and it's works like a charm--soap!! We use Trader Joes Pure castile soap with peppermint (liquid), and put a drop on the bite and rub it in. A minute or so later, the itching stops, and it actually helps heal the bite--sometimes I can't even find the bite if I put this on fast enough. Just rubbing a wet bar of soap on it works too, but I like the TJ stuff.
The 24th (Pioneer Day--State Holiday) was fun, complete with pancake breakfast at the park, games, fair rides, cotton candy, snow cones, pony rides, and the fondly remembered "tiger paws," now called "Brigham's Frybread." The booths and signs hadn't changed from 20 years ago. We watched an indian play a flute and a lady spin wool by hand and on a spinning wheel.The night before I took the kids to the Bountiful parade in front of my grandma's residential living facility. They had a great time and it was raining candy, popsicles and toys. I did have a moment at the parade where I realized I was not only watching the same parade I grew up watching, but I was watching it practically at ground zero in what I fondly call the "Triangle of Pain." I tried to put that out of my head and enjoy it anyway, and was pretty successful.
Melodramatic, I know, but even though I live here, there is a large swath in the middle of town I avoid at all costs. Unfortunately that swath includes both the library and my grandma's place, although only the former holds bad memories. I call it a triangle, but I'm not sure if it is. Let's do a brief experiment.
There. In David's mapping program, I marked all the places I avoid because of unpleasant associations or violent nausea--old schools, places of humiliation, certain people's homes, my homes--and voila! Almost a triangle it is! Happily, my house, the inlaws and my mom are all outside (and on opposite sides) of the triangle. I always drive around.David and I have discussed the downsides of living in your childhood town, but boo hoo, we're both fine.
I argue that an unhappy childhood makes for an interesting adult. At least I hope so.
