Don’t even get me started.
At this time last week, I was a naif. A rube. A foolish, frivolous little woman. I did things like cook and read. Sometimes I went to yoga. Ha, ha, heh, heh, YOGA! Imagine that. Sometimes I even watched shows on TV. Oh, and I did all sorts of other indulgent stuff like open mail, look out the window, shave my legs, and eat yogurt. One time, I even shopped for boots online. I looked at a bunch. It took a while. What an indolent innocent, I was. What a fool.
Little did I know that in a matter of hours I would discover that something sinister and foul, tiny and insidious, had crossed the threshold of our home and taken up residence in the heads of the people I love the most. That’s right. Believe it. We had – I can’t even say it. We had . . . cough cough . . . it rhymes with mice. Oh, I’m not ashamed. It’s everywhere right now. No. I am SHELLSHOCKED. I have never worked this hard in my life. My hands and nerves are raw and cut up. I am battle weary, bone weary, way past the point of sceeve and reason. I am angry. I am wrung out and scarred.
I am exhausted.
And yet, though it defies belief, I discovered that it is possible to love your children more than you did. There is still unchartered territory in the heart, more room to step into, to turn around and look from a different perspective.
It is a simple truth: when you look at every hair on your child’s head, you love him or her even more.
Now excuse me while I go dig an underground swimming pool in my back yard, fill it with vodka, and jump in. Whether or not I put cement blocks on my ankles, I have yet to decide.
October 24th, 2010 at 12:52 pm
Shop for cement boots…on line!
October 25th, 2010 at 8:56 am
It does go away, though it is oh so horrible. At least you didn’t pass it on to someone else, which is—trust me—a really reliable way to feel worse. Oh and also? To have it yourself, worse than any of your kids. Ugh. Here’s hoping you emerge, SOON, strengthened by adversity.
October 25th, 2010 at 12:27 pm
Hey- E had it a few years ago- I strategically had a late meeting and strolled into the hourse as the extraction was occuring. Marisol was the surgeon while Jim looked on as her assistant in amazment at how adroitly she was able to remove them. E seemed unfazed by the experience. I found out things about my husband I never knew- he knew to put pillows and comforters in a bag and put them in the cold- who taught him that?! Maybe you love your children more? I left it in the capable hands of J and M and as I recall left the house shortly thereafter to vote- it was election night… thank God!!
October 26th, 2010 at 10:17 am
One of our mutual friends gave me the heads up to IMMEDIATELY read your entry on this horrific nuance of mothering- probably because we had mirror experiences and reactions. She knew I needed to feel a little less alone-and she could not relate personally to my degree of drama.
I love every word you said because a teeny, tiny piece of me felt bad for feeling stress, angst, exhaustion and complete and utter disgust over something that is really so benign in the scheme of things. I felt totally violated by those “louse” and every single “NIT” that lay in the heads of my dear ones. Yes, a pool of vodka seemed like the only escape….that and the professional I called 10 TIMES (within a 3 day period) for support, guidance and calm (MN Lice LADY RULES!) I love that woman for the calm she gave me at a time of shallow desperation. Ironically, the medical world caused me more stress and gave conflicting information. She had her facts straight-backed by research from all over the world. This is such a global problem….why in today’s world can we not eradicate lice?? Anyway, I would highly recommend her to any and all who are so unlucky to be infested before than even know what the hell has happened.
So to you, peevish mama friend, I am so sorry to hear you were faced with this nightmare- I think we were in the thick of it at the same time and somehow I imagine we will look back and have a toast to surviving yet another casualty of love!
October 26th, 2010 at 1:44 pm
Oh ladies! Maybe I should start a blog about lice. Such passion! It is truly, truly something to be reckoned with. But you’re right, Kikimama, so benign in the grand scheme of things. BUT STILL!!!! I have yet to unravel and truly understand how this has impacted me longterm. Anyone want to start a business with me selling cute little cotton skull caps that kids can wear to school? Like EVERY SECOND they’re in school? Hmmm? Like in lots of cool colors and patterns? Polka dots, stripes . . . Huh? Hmm? Oh my GOD!
November 10th, 2010 at 8:18 pm
Dack told me of your story as if it would console me this morning, as I considered locking both boys out of the house. (only for 5 mins)
I have a stack of things to launder up to the ceiling and a feeling that things are crawling on me.
Last week I rear ended a car with 5 men in it. They all got out and started yelling at me in broken English. I would repeated drive my car into things rather than spend hours combing through hair.
July 29th, 2014 at 5:46 am
transportation@trial.attaching” rel=”nofollow”>.…
tnx for info….