… have a (justified) extreme fear of wasps.
The realisation came to me on a Hen Do (another post for another time). I am still breast-feeding Aifric so time away from her means I still have to pump to keep up the flow and also to prevent me leaking onto strangers. Which is a thing that can actually happen. It’s not cool.
We’d just completed our Spice Girls dance class (we were excellent FYI and as a group of 18 women, we WILL be the Next Big Thing) and I was due to pump. So out they (the boobs) popped straight into the pre-prepared pump (no way was I going to waste any time putting all that together when I could be guzzling gin).
It was a warm day in Bath – the bedroom was hot. We opened a few windows. There was a breeze. Life felt pretty sweet (apart from the fact my boobs were being dragged and compressed into a tiny little funnel and my friends were chatting over the incessent hum of the pumping machine). Suddenly, out of nowhere (actually it was just through the window but I like that phrase for suspense), came a giant wasp. It flew in the window and headed straight for my vulnerable, restricted, milky boobs.
‘Oh my God, oh my God, get it away, what I am going to do, oh my God, OH MY GOD, please someone help, OH MY F**KING GOD’
Now. If you have used a double breast pump before, you’ll know that unless you have one of those magic bras with holes in them, your hands are holding both pumps and you cannot do anything else but sit there, boobs out, defenceless. So there I was, top down to my waist, holding my two bottles of milk, machine contentedly humming away, boobs oblivious of the unfolding drama.
My good friend Katherine leapt to attention and jumped in between me and the wasp, as a human barricade to protect my sweet nectar (and me). She began a little dance moving back and forth as the wasp did, whilst I just sat there barking orders – ‘left, right, right, right, left, it’s going to the left, oh my God it’s coming for me, left left, Katherine, thank you, oh my God, it’s close, it’s getting close’ – like a peculiar game in the Crystal Maze.
This couldn’t go on. I’d have to stop the pumping. Hurriedly I detached myself from the pump – boobs hanging dejectedly in a ‘WTF woman?!’ pose. And I jumped over the pumps to cower by the door.
In comes another friend – bear in mind now, there is now just ONE wasp and THREE humans in this room. Mellissa is super chill. Over she goes to the window, and between her and Katherine they usher the wasp to the window. It’s now got itself stuck down the gap in between the sash windows (it was a LUSH hen do house). Meanwhile I have clocked that my bottles full of breastmilk are just standing precariously on the carpet – where I haphazardly placed them in order to get away from my waspy assailant – very very close to where Melonator and KG were at work.
So now I begin shouting once more – from the corner where I am crouching – ‘guys, guys, GUYS! my breastmilk! please be careful of my breastmilk – oh my God – I need that milk, please don’t knock it over, oh my God, guys, GUYS, the WASP!’
In true superhero style, they extracted the wasp and released it back into the wild. My heart rate went down and I slowly walked over to my bottles and the pump, and resumed my position. The bride walked in – ‘hiiii guys!’ – with no idea of what drama had just occurred.
But. BUT. What will I do if I am with Aifric? Will I be able to put her before my fear of wasps? Will I be able to stand between her and the wasp as my dear pal Katherine did for me?
We were nearly tested on this when walking back from the weigh-in (Aifric’s, not mine. Please. One drama is enough) when a wasp flew in my direction – I did what I normally do – close my eyes. If I close my eyes, I can’t see it and it’s not real. I closed my eyes. I ducked low and I pushed the buggy really really fast.
We survived. But they’ll be back. It’s only May. There is a long, long (ha! It’s England. Again – please) summer ahead of us.
*PHOTO: Aifric hanging out in summer aka WASP SEASON