It’s four o’clock in the morning. I am sitting up in bed, serenely breastfeeding Henry, when I feel an odd tickle on the back of my arm. I figure it’s the ends of my hair brushing my skin and readjust a bit.
A little bit later I feel a strange-ish sensation beneath my boob. I think it’s the little, plastic clasp on my nursing tank, currently undone so the boy can feed, dangling against my rib cage.
A few minutes after that the distinct sensation of what feels suspiciously like a spider racing up my arm alarms me. I flap that arm desperately while still attempting to keep the boy at his beloved boob, but I see nothing and assume I’m just tripping because it is four in the morning.
I’m kind of dozing while Henry finishes up and I feel that same spider sensation on my arm but this time my very worst suspicions are confirmed by an alarmingly large ant racing down my arm toward my son. And my boob.
I immediately fling Henry down the bed. Okay, I didn’t fling him so much as toss him gently onto the quilt to get him away from the gigantic ant reigning terror in my bed. And also so I could leap from the bed whilst spastically swiping at all areas of my body.
What the hell?
The ant wasn’t so bad, I mean, it was just an ant. It does freak me out to think about how that ant and his little cohorts would’ve probably roamed all over my body, were I sleeping, and perhaps even entered certain orifices. Like, what happens when an aunt crawls in your ear, you know? Isn’t there some horrifying statistic about how many bugs people swallow while sleeping?
The really awful part, aside from wondering how many ants I’ve swallowed while sleeping, is lying there for the rest of the night slapping at various parts of my body because I was sure ants were EVERYWHERE. Once you’ve discovered an ant in your bed you’ll feel them all over the damn place, even if they aren’t really there. Even this morning, I’m feeling phantom ant sensations; my head, my bra, my pants.
I’ve got ants in my pants, y’all.