Last night as I lay in bed during Sean's 3AM feeding, I marveled at how lovely the crickets sounded as their night song drifted through our open window. It was so peaceful and relaxing that I forgot that the creatures making the melodic noise were insects.
Now I don't hate bugs, but I don't love them either. As the mother of a seven-year old boy, I've seen my fair share of them. In fact, earlier this week while visiting Kyle at school, a praying mantis the size of my hand (I'm not just talking as long as my hand, but just as WIDE as it too) flew directly at me and alighted (as best as a creature that size can alight, that is) on my dark green, floral print skirt . I think it thought I was bush...
It was quite the sight, particularly from my point of view, and I tried my best to not to shout out as I watched it crawl closer and closer to my waistband. I wanted to quickly flick it off and do one of those full-body shudders to shake off the heebie-jeebies, but there was no way I was going to let the second graders on the playground think that I was a fraidy cat. (Pride - 1, Fear - 0) So before it could ascend Sean's pudgy legs dangling down from the baby Bjorn, I calmly shook my skirt and catapulted it over the sand pit and into the grass next to the tether ball poles. It was immediately swarmed by a group of seven-year old boys (my son included) yelling "Cool!" and "Awesome!".
Well, I didn't think the gargantuan mantis was very cool but I did find the symphony of crickets last night to be pretty awesome. Their chirping was light and airy with crisp notes that weren't overly shrill or monotone like the motorcycle-without-a-muffler, mind-numbing, buzz of summer cicadas. Most of all, I couldn't believe how clearly I could hear their song. It was like I had a front row seat! Instead of picking up my ipod and surfing the net, like I usually do while I nurse, I sat back in bed and listened to the crickets as I gazed down at Sean who was bathed in the soft glow of the night light. It was one of those perfect moments that comes around now and then when you wish you had a video recorder that could adequately capture the beauty of your experience.
Sean finished nursing and I laid him in his bassinet. Still feeling a little high and very zen, I walked across the hall to check on Kyle. In Kyle's room, I could hear the crickets even more clearly than before! I was tempted to wake him so he could enjoy it too (he would've loved it) but I knew better than to wake a sleeping giant and besides, I was enjoying this rare, tranquil, moment alone. As I floated back to my room, I noticed that the clear sound of the crickets wasn't only broadcasting in stereo from Kyle's room, but from the living room as well, and realized that I must have left the sliding door open. (Again!) As I got to the patio door, however, I found it firmly locked. But the crickets' song was even louder than before!?! In fact, it sounded like there was one cricket in particular that was singing a solo. How could that be? And then it hit me. There was a cricket in my house...
So there I was, at three in the morning, tearing apart my living room in search of the rogue symphonist; my moment of zen quickly turned on its head as I chased the tiniest black cricket around our living room, hopping over and under furniture in my pursuit. (How was it that such a tiny little guy was capable of making SO much noise? Maybe he was a newborn...) Finally, after a few laps, I captured the little guy. I was tempted to fling him outside to teach him a lesson and for the briefest of moments the little devil on my shoulder yelled, "Squish it!", but cooler heads prevailed and I gently put him outside to join the rest of the critters, where he belonged. Ordinarily I would've been very put out about the whole incident and thought that the night was ruined, but as I lay in bed, I let the crickets resume their lullaby and I smiled. I knew that in the morning I'd have a great story to tell Kyle about the cricket in our house and how I single-handedly got it out. He'd think it was pretty awesome and I would feel very cool.
