I am that old jalopy coasting up to the gas pumps only on fumes. Atleast that’s what it feels like. Simply put I feel defeated.
It’s been a hard week. I can not emphasize that enough! Can some one please sucker punch me in the gut while I’m falling down? Yeah. This is my week…
Sunday seemed so good. I had a great time at the mall with the girls. Little did I know a bomb was about to explode. It’s always moments like that, impending doom rushing down upon us, and there we are living in the moment, utterly clueless.
The next day I picked up Deedee from school. As soon as we got back to the house, Snoochie and Bobo’s bus had dropped them off.
“Mom,” said Snoochie. “Can you check my head? I think I’ve got lice.” Apparently her head has been itchy. I’ve checked it two times since she’s been home from the in-patient behavioral health center. With two checks coming out in the clear I was beginning to think that one of her meds caused her new found her itchy state. Never the less when your kid throws the “lice” word around YOU CHECK.
So I did. About 5 minutes later Deedee and I were flying as fast as we could to the nearest drug store to clear them out of every product that promises to kill lice. We got new combs, new brushes, new scissors, shampoos, rinses, sprays. In mine and Deedee’s paranoid states we even bought ourselves satin head wraps and covered our own locks of hair before we went back to begin demolition and clean up of our personal ground zero.
We immediately shampooed Snoochie’s hair, right outside on our porch. Deedee grabbbed every stuff animal, pillow, blanket, and piece of clothing in the house and dragged it all to the washing machine. While Snoochie showered and rinsed off the toxic goop out of her insanely curly hair, I checked Deedee’s hair.
Mortification set in quickly for Deedee as she realized the contagion had seeped across her bedroom and claimed her as its next victim. I apologized profusely as I lathered her up in the same shampoo as Snoochie.
We spent the night combing hair, picking through hair, the whole disgusting 9 yards. We did massive amounts of laundry, even rewashing clean clothes. We boiled our old hair brushes. We vacuumed and then vacuumed again.
Deedee accidently filled the washing machine too high with pillows. Our machine is older and takes a little more time. Due to the heavy load water flooded my kitchen floor. We mopped and cleaned that up.
If you have ever tried to check your own head for lice, you know exactly how hard that is. You need to check the back of your neck and behind your ears really good. It is freaking mission impossible, but determined to know the truth I kept on trying. My hair is thick, long, wavy, and brown. The tips touch the middle of my back. I didn’t see any bugs in my hair, but who was I kidding? I could barely see.
Sheepishly embarassed, I had to ask my 15 year old daughter to check my head for lice. She says she didn’t see any. I am still not satisfied. I don’t know if it is psychosomatic or what, but now I am itchy all over.
I had The Man check for me the next day when he was finally home from work. He said he didn’t see any either. It is so easy for him not to get worked up about this, he’s been working crazy hours lately, no days off, and he shaves his head. I choose to proceed as if I am indeed infected. I used the lice shampoo.
Heat effectly kills lice. I’ve been using my flat iron on the girls (only once a day). We can’t use the shampoo two days in a row so for today’s “treatment” we smothered our hair in olive oil. We will do the same thing tomorrow. We can’t put away any clothes we only wore for a short time and didn’t get dirty. My laundry is at maximum capacity.
We will win this battle. This will become one of those bad weeks you only remember sometimes. I’m grateful the girls are not small and don’t have tons of stuff animals and dolls. I’m happy Bobo doesn’t have to endure this with us (he shaves his head).
This is one of those weeks when you have no choice, but to suck it up and give it everything you’ve got.