Ok, so I never said the blog would be solely dedicated to child-rearing topics, did I? There goes my pre-Alzheimers mummy brain again.

Anyway, regardless of my original intention, I’ve decided to expand the reach of this little project of mine to include everyday foibles and adventures that come with my new STAY AT HOME status.

Because did I mention that I don’t have a job any more? I was, up until a month ago, gainfully employed at a wonderful non profit that supports the research and development of traditional medicine in Africa. Or I should say supported. Because they’re closing up shop. Hopefully temporarily. But that’s another story for another time.

Anyhow, I was let go and am now unemployed! Woo hoo! Actually, it’s not woo hoo at all because I’m angsting a bit over my next step – wanting to do something that’s more in my control, not a 9 to 5 gig, but living in New York I’m feeling a bit pressured to provide the second income that’s so necessary in this town, unless you’re married to a hedge fund manager.

So. I’m home a lot at the moment. Which is actually lovely, because B is only 3 and a half months, and I do think maternity laws in this country are sadistic and leaving your wee baby after only 3 months  has got to be pretty gut-wrenching.

But back to the title of this blog post. Bugs.

After a particularly hellacious morning, whereby I took the boychild to his first day of camp at the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens – sweltering heat, boychild refusing to enter the camp, me feeling useless once again as the very wonderful camp counselor coaxed him into the group – I sat around at home waiting for the exterminator to come. We’ve had a recurring bug problem, you see. Water bugs in the basement. And now ants and these absolutely disgusting looking centipedes, one of which practically crawled into our bed a few nights ago while I was nursing B. Hubby killed it with his bare hand. Now that’s an urban uber man for you.

The exterminator came. Verdict? Hole in pipe in basement is letting water bugs gain access to our apartment. Lovely. Hatching ants were also discovered on kitchen windowsill, apparently having come in through the WALL. The wall, I ask you? What is this, “The Matrix” for ants? And the centipedes…not much to be done about those. So poison was sprayed, I whisked B outside into the 100 degree heat to escape the fumes inside and inwardly wished for the end of our charming brownstone days.

I do think the exterminator was particularly impressed with my calm response to the situation, however.  When I took him down to the basement and he pointed out a water bug right next to me on the stairwell, I promptly yelped, shoved him out of the way and literally jumped down the rest of the stairs onto the floor.

Ah yes, ever mature. Yet another trait I’m sure I’ll pass down to my ever braver-than-I offspring.