Saturday, September 5, 2009


There is a special place in my life for bees. Our last name is pronounced "Da-bee", though people can come up with some fascinating variations of it. When we got married, Tom's brother Tim gave us a family crest with the name origin on it. Not surprisingly, the root name traces back to the time when their ancestors were bee keepers. Back then, last names were invented as a way to communicate more than just a personal identity. They helped people know what you did, not just who you were.

Generations later, they couldn't be further from being bee keepers if they tried. Tom is really and truly afraid of bees. For some reason they like to sting him, and watching him in the presence of an incessant and persistent bee is amusing to say the least. A few years ago, he was videotaping the kids in the backyard when Papa threw a bee at him. A dead bee. And my knight in shining armor, my family protector, taped himself screaming like a little girl. We remind him about that with every possible opportunity.

I have always given him a hard time about his bee issues. I love bees. Yes, they make honey. But they do much more than that. Most people have no appreciation for just how important they are for our survival as a species. We need bees a lot more than they need us. It's alarming to me that so many bee colonies seem to be suffering worldwide, the numbers of bees declining. That could spell trouble for the food supply, and life as we know it.

A few years ago, I dressed the girls as bees for Halloween. Besides just being adorable costumes, I was trying to be witty. Only one person got my humor though when we took the kids to school for the Fall ball. But the one person who did see the point of the costumes thought I was hilarious. She just laughed and laughed at the "Da Bees".

I have bees all over my house too. I have plants in my garden that attract them. I found a cute lithograph a few years ago that would be perfect for the kitchen, titled "The Busy Bee Bistro". We have bee coffee mugs, bee vases, bee figurines, bee windchimes and more. Bees, bees, bees.

My love of bees is a little less this morning though. One of them decided to sting me yesterday. Walking back to the car after soccer practice, while I was holding AJ, a giant fluffy bumblebee stung my foot. And trying my best not to scream, I hobbled the rest of the way to the car with the bee sticking out of my foot. I couldn't put AJ down in the middle of the parking lot, I had to walk the rest of the way - knowing that I'd be getting the full dose of venom by doing so.

I've never been stung before. The first time sensitizes your immune system to the allergens in the venom, so we'll see how I do when and if I get stung again. My brother is anaphylactic to bee stings, and I could very well be too. My leg swelled up to my knee before the benadryl knocked it down.

I still love bees, just a little bit less now. At least I didn't scream like a little girl.


  1. Kelly - 1, Puddle Pushing Girly Screamer - 0! :)

  2. I would love to see that video. AS I am picturing it my head I am laughing with you:)


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