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Dear Family: Please Close the Door Already!
by Samantha Lee
Updated: May 6, 2021
Originally Published: July 17, 2017
“Hey Mom, the neighbors invited us for a bonfire and s’mores!”
Nothing fills my heart with dread, yearning, and a dash of guilt quite like my daughter’s exuberant announcement. Don’t get me wrong, I genuinely enjoy our neighbors’ company. Who doesn’t love s’mores? Bonfires are inviting and fun, a chance for everyone to gather around the flickering flames as the sun sets while the kids chase fireflies.
And then there’s me. I relish sharing stories, cracking jokes, and roasting marshmallows, but I was tragically born as a mosquito magnet. Seriously, in the bug world, I’m practically a five-star buffet. So, more often than not, I graciously decline outdoor gatherings because the aftermath isn’t worth it. Trust me, it’s that severe.
A few weeks ago, my husband was away for two weeks, and our neighbors kindly invited my daughter and me over. I couldn’t say no. She was so thrilled, and I had successfully avoided all previous invitations by sending her alone or having my husband go instead. My time had finally run out.
I suited up in light-colored, long-sleeved attire and drenched myself in DEET—some of which I accidentally inhaled. As I coughed, I started to wonder if this was a new tactic to keep the bugs at bay from the inside. It’s true; those pests will find even the tiniest patch of exposed skin and attack with enthusiasm.
I even applied bug spray to my long, dark hair and donned my hoodie. But, of course, within moments, they found me.
I did my best to bob and weave while toasting marshmallows and helping my daughter assemble her s’mores. I even managed to smack one mosquito against my sweatshirt, leaving a little red dot of blood (likely my own). But not even that could deter them. They could smell my blood, and I was their all-you-can-eat buffet. These little devils are crafty, floating around like tiny Muhammad Alis, minus the sweet boxing shorts.
“Mommy, why does the sign say close the door?”
To say my family doesn’t quite grasp the situation would be an understatement. Though I spend my summers looking like I’m recovering from a severe chickenpox outbreak, my mosquito bites don’t exactly convey how unbearably itchy I become or why they should close the door behind them.
It’s a strange quirk of my family to pose questions while standing in the open doorway. The back sliding door is especially popular for inquiries like “Can you turn on the garden hose?” or “Do you think this chicken is cooked?” The worst is when they come in to “just grab some bug spray” while leaving the door wide open. They think I’m nagging when I simply ask them to close it.
Frustrated from constantly repeating myself, I decided to channel my new hobby of hand-lettering. I crafted a lovely, double-sided sign and taped it by the sliding door handle. The side facing out reads “Keep the Door Closed,” while the side facing in declares “Mom says close the damn door.”
I put it up while my daughter was playing in the backyard. As soon as she came in, she quickly shut the door behind her. “Mom? Why does it say close the damn door?”
“Because I mean CLOSE THE DAMN DOOR. No one listens to me, and I’m tired of saying it a thousand times. This is the only way to get your attention.”
To her credit, she has improved at not leaving the door ajar or asking questions while standing in the threshold. My husband, however, hasn’t quite caught on yet. Perhaps I should make a taller sign for him—maybe hang it at around 5’8” since he’s 5’11”.
Midnight Snack
This morning, as we rushed out the front door to catch the bus to camp, I heard my daughter shout, “Mom! We opened the door, and a mosquito flew out of our house!”
I’m pretty sure that was the same mosquito that feasted on me along my waistband last night while I tried to enjoy dinner after returning home from the gym. Each night, the mosquitoes trapped in my house seem to hold a little meeting to decide which body part to feast on next. One night, they targeted the insides of my knees. Another night, they went for my hairline and cheeks. It’s like they’re leaving little connect-the-dot patterns that resemble a middle finger emoji.
Last night, I went to bed covered in an essential oil anti-bug potion, smelling like a giant citronella torch. This morning, I woke up with just a couple of new bites. Partial victory?
So please forgive me if I turn down your invitations to your cookouts, camping trips, or outdoor activities. I would love to bask in nature’s beauty, but this season of itch makes even the indoors feel like a battleground. I envy those who can roam through the world without feeling like they’re a buffet for invisible bloodsuckers. I don’t mean to be a buzzkill, but we all have our struggles.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to run over to my neighbor’s house. She’s kindly lent me her mosquito net from her days in the Peace Corps. I just need to find someone with a bug suit for outdoor adventures, and perhaps you’ll see me again before the first frost.
Summary:
Navigating summer gatherings can be tough for those of us who are mosquito magnets, leading to humorous signs and strategies in the quest for relief. Despite the challenges, there’s a desire to enjoy the great outdoors—if only the bugs would listen.