Bed worms? Oh, I bet that got your attention. Let me set the scene because I am sure you are trying to figure out if this is the blog of an animal hoarder who is about to launch into a rambling defense of goats sleeping on the bed. I maintain what I consider to be an average home. I have a laundry schedule and an ample supply of disinfecting wipes and floor cleaning devices. We are your typical family with children and work and dogs and OMG - bed worms.
Let me start at the beginning. We have a lovely baby sitter who cares for our ten month old son. She recently became a new mother and is the type of unaffected, twenty something beauty that almost certainly went home from the hospital wearing her skinny jeans and a thong. Yesterday afternoon she greeted me at the door holding a baggie with what appeared to be a tissue inside. “Hi! Did you have a great day? I want to give you this before I forget. I found them on your daughter’s bed.” Handing me the baggie, she turned and walked away to the living room where a rousing game of peek-a-boo was underway with my son.
Inside the baggie on a tissue were two tiny wriggly worms. I went dizzy with confusion. All I could do was spit out “whu” sounding words: What? Where? When?” Wuwuwu… “Yes. In-her-bed” she confirmed and carried on about her business as calmly as if she had found crayons on the coffee table.
Without proper support to balance my reaction level, I did what I most typically do – go straight to panic mode. If I am around you in any crisis situation, you needn’t worry. I have already dialed 911, grabbed a fire extinguisher and started CPR while simultaneously screaming for assistance.
With 911 off the table of options, I do the next best thing by texting my husband and mother-in-law (who is a science/lab person). Both immediately call the house because, well, I texted them 911. (Oh, like you wouldn’t?)
While I am waiting for them I go ahead and get the gasoline can out of the garage because basically I figure we are going to burn the bed and possibly the house and just, like, start over.
My mother in law is the first on the scene because there is nothing a scientific person likes more than a good hypothesis. My husband is a close second because there is nothing he likes more than a good excuse to criticize my housekeeping skills. He would probably also like a good excuse to run away with the babysitter. (Worms your honor, in our daughter’s bed!)
Anyway, looking at the wrigglies they immediately rule out bed bugs, because they are definitely worm-like. So while they are Google image searching away, I continue gathering up sheets and bedding for the big burn and start spray disinfecting anything that is not moving.
About thirty minutes and a microscopic examination later (I swear she has one in the glove box) a scientific conclusion is reached- “Moth Babies.”
Okay, so the scientific term is not “babies” - it's larvae, but when they first said it,I completely blacked out and fell head first into a bucket of bleach. They roused me with room deodorizer and decided it was best to simply refer to the larvae as “babies.”
You see, we have had a lot of moths lately. I switched our porch light to one of those energy efficient florescent bulbs and well, they have been to it like a moth to a... well you know. This coupled with my daughter’s desire to open and close the front door, oh, one thousand times a night allowed a few of them to sneak in.
Marry this up with me recently pulling out a wool blanket for the chilly nights and you get moth-babies in the bed. Sigh.
Denied my bed burning, I chose to burn through a half dozen loads of laundry and, after an unmerciful moth culling, all has returned to normal.
No, that is a lie. I am not okay. I have post traumatic crawly thing in the bed disorder and share this with you as a warning – moths are bad news. They breed like rabbits but have much less attractive offspring. Offspring that could end up in your daughter’s bed and cause household upheaval that for one shining moment lets your husband think he finally has cause to turn you over to the authorities and run off with the babysitter. So trust me, wash those wool blankets before you put them on the bed this season.
