You want to know why? Well, I'm telling you anyway.
Rory and the GFYO were sent home from school this morning with FUCKING LICE. AGAIN. The skin on my hands is peeling off from these awful chemicals and the forty thousand loads of laundry I have done over the last month. I almost burst into tears in the nurse's office. She couldn't have been sweeter, said she was sending home some other kids, reminded me that all the icky myths about lice were untrue and not too worry and it's hard and she knows, but I noticed she didn't hug me.
Takes me 90 minutes to thoroughly get through Rory's hair. Hers is a mane of tangles but she sits patiently and I hold my breath and my metal comb and start feeling itchy. I send her to the shower to rinse, wash my hands, practice Lamaze breathing and start on the GFYO. He says, why is the counter all wet? Huh, I say as I am looking through a magnifying glass...
The counter is wet because THE FUCKING KITCHEN CEILING IS LEAKING FROM THE SHOWER. I race up the stairs, metal comb in hand, TURN IT OFF TURN IT OFF I shout and there's my poor naked kid, shivering and startled. Sorry, I say. Oh god, I say.
I have twenty minutes to change the second load of laundry before Bridget gets home (no time to call the plumber; no money to pay the plumber) and before we have to head to the Creepy Money Raping Orthodontist where I am scolded for missing an appointment for the GFYO. I am too shy to tell them that it was because I am leaving THIS FUCKING MONEY RAPING PRACTICE and instead just suck it up and say sorry. Feel itchier by the minute. Feel like I should be tattooed with the Scarlet L.
(To be continued...)
9commentsBrilliant Person Wrote...
Nope, not wrong. Not wrong at all.
Have an icepack and a juicebox.
Seriously. You survive that kinda day you should get a prize. Perhaps that kind of consolation prize I mentioned earlier. Now I am itchy.
Oh, these days. These days that people are fond of saying you will laugh about later. When in fact, when later comes all you do is feel profound relief that those days are OVER.
Keep on truckin', Ms. P.
Yeah. It's days like these that deserve mother of the year awards!
I hope you check with the school to find out what is being shared. Even something as simple as a comb or "dress up" hats for play time is all it takes to pass this around. It is easy to get and hard to get rid of for good. Keep trying.
I am handing you a virtual beer.
No wait...a virtual six-pack.
Go ahead, crack one open.
Man, I was all set to bitch about my day. You got me so beat! Hope you are drowning those lice in some Miller Lite!
Duuuude. Run away. Definitely run away.
But don't take Linda's advice and ask the school what's being shared, cuz that pisses the school off. Schools HATE lice too. Just keep some of those little buggers in a tiny little container and sprinkle them on the meter maid or a speeder on your street or the class bully or the guy who cuts you in line at Stop and Shop. Open the little jar full of critters, give it a shake, and walk away knowing you've done the world a small favor. Ha! Take THAT, muthas!!
Man, that's lousy.
HA! HA!
Get it? Lice - louse - lousy? Huh? Huh?
Lousy. I make myself laugh.
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