Ants in the Pants

One thing about the south I don't like are ants. Fire ants. Growing up, they were so normal I never thought about them not being a problem anywhere else in the same way it took me awhile to realize that Mardi Gras wasn't a holiday anywhere else either. As a kid, you quickly learn what the beds look like, that they hurt, and to watch where you step.

I got into ants once that I can remember, and it was NOT PLEASANT. Of course, we were visiting a friend's apartment, and us kids were outside looking at something on the other side of a fence, so I stood right in them, and with all the grown ups inside, there wasn't anyone to throw me under a strong spray of water to get them off. It wasn't pleasant. And it itched.

I've made a big effort to save my kids from that discomfort. They know to watch where they step and all that. Never had a problem. But since the "baby" doesn't know, when there are beds that pop up in the yard, I don't let her outside until we take care of them, or I stay right next to her. I have been diligent.

Really. I have.

So how then did the child have the opportunity to sit right down on top of an ant bed? With me being 4 feet away from her? Good question!

Just this past weekend, I spent an hour outside walking slowly around the yard and putting out fire ant killer stuff. And just Tuesday afternoon, before I let her out, I walked around and kicked all the mounds to make sure they were gone. Only one bed wasn't. So I watched her very closely when she went in that area of the yard.

And that evening, when we were winding our afternoon activities down, I was winding the water hose back up, while the baby "helped." When I was done, and had turned to put the last rung up, I heard her scream. Apparently, there was a bed right smack up against the patio, hidden in the grass, and she sat down right on it. The ants were all over her shorts and all up and down her leg and foot. So I grabbed the hose, pulled her shoes and shorts off, and started spraying.

My poor baby. I ran her inside and soaked her in an oatmeal bath, administered an ice pack, benadryl, motrin and cortizone cream, and she is fine! No kidding! Ashley says she counted 117 bites on her. I started counting, but I quit when I hit 20 and I wasn't even done with the top of her foot yet. MY POOR BABY!

But she hasn't scratched, hasn't rubbed, hasn't whined, nothing. I haven't given any more medicine since that first night either. What an awesome babe.

Besides looking like she's diseased (and I mean, you know how you can google a rash or something and you get those disgusting pictures that come up? That's what she looks like! And they're all blistered and pussed up and the internet says it will take them 2 weeks to heal like that--ugh!) you'd never know anything happened at all.

Thank God for Blessings!