WARNING!!! Post Contains some bad language. (although, frankly, I’m surprised at my own restraint, here)
And how was your day???
FREAKED-OUT SHOPPING LIST (extra points, if it’s purchased at 2am)
1. Nix shampoo (and a quick prayer, that these are not the new, Nix-resistant strain of lice)
2. Hair clips to section hair, thus turning you into a truly magnificent style maven. (see photo)
3. Magnifying glass (you’re not looking for a mass exodus across the scalp for the live ones, it’s more like a demented Plinko path they take, along a hair shaft, then to another hair, then behind the ears.)
4. Metal lice comb and boiling water to clean it after.
5. A million paper towels, to wipe the nit comb on between passes through the hair. Eeeewwwww! (as grossed out as I am, I must say, it’s VERY satisfying to ‘pop’ the little buggers, like fleas!)
6. Large pot (that i will NEVER use again!)
7. Wire rack for the bottom of the pot, (see above about future use), so you don’t (stupidly) melt your nit comb *smacks forehead; see photo*
8. Olive oil, coconut oil or mayonnaise (leave on for at least 6 hours to suffocate the little buggers) Choose carefully, because it will turn you off of whatever foods use these ingredients in the future.
9. Shower cap (yay! now I look like the Lunch Lady logo). Crap! Saran-wrap (even more lovely), if the shower cap shoots off of your head like a slingshot and lands across the room.
10. More paper towels, to clean up the oily trail the shower cap made on the floor.
11. Even more paper towels to blot your neck as the oil runs into your bra.
12. White vinegar to coat scalp and hair (lice hate this), rinse out the oil, and add to laundry. (also adds to your general loveliness, regarding smell)
13. Hair dryer that gets really, really hot.
14. Ear plugs, so you can’t hear you child whine.
15. A million garbage bags, to put stuffed animals in that you couldn’t throw away because your child was watching you in. (Damn!) Ditto for all of your couch cushions.
16. Lysol spray for mattresses, or a winning lottery ticket so you can replace them. And all of your carpets. And towels. And bedding. And pillows. (Oh, screw it! I’m pitching the pillows anyway!)
17. A really good vaccuum, to use on all carpets, mattresses, couches, car seats, car interiors (don’t forget the roof interior!)
18. The number of a good carpet installer, if you’re really paranoid.
19. White sheets to cover your leather couch with (because your husband won’t let you throw THAT away), so you can sit on it while waiting for the treatments to kill everything.
20. Lavender and tea tree oil for laundry, and possibly your head.
21. Spray bottle to wet hair during daily torture sessions with the nit comb.
22. Baking soda, to see the nits better, if you’re having trouble.
23. Lots of hot water for laundry (aka, no one gets a hot shower for the next 2 days!)
24. Tea tree oil shampoo and conditioner (to keep them at bay, and because the Nix packaging says we can’t use it every day, until they’re all dead. Noooo, we have to wait a week! Yeesh!)
25. LOTS of patience. (That’s it! I’m sunk!)
26. Large bottle of vodka. No, seriously. You’ll need it. (you’re welcome).
Adventures in Bug-Wrangling, and a Healthy Portion of Humble Pie
You know how they say you haven’t really lived in New York unless you’ve been mugged?
Well, I have a theory for you. You haven’t really experienced parenthood - not fully - until you’ve found lice on your child.
As I sit on my porch, feeling the sickly trail of coconut oil and tea tree running down the side of my head and into my ear, amid the stench of lingering Nix shampoo, I have time to reflect. Six hours, to be exact, and I’ve realized that I wasn’t truly done, hadn’t really experienced my ‘last cookie enjoyment,’ until I found our new little ‘friends' on Charlotte’s head. Raising my first two kids, I survived Emily’s febrile seizure at age 5, as her fever soared to 105 degrees, Michael’s fall from his treehouse, resulting in a torn Gluteus Maximus muscle, (aka, The Ass Dent), Emily’s broken nose (neighborhood trampoline), and Michael’s head gash (fireplace hearth), resulting in several stitches and a new living room carpet (no one can clean up THAT much blood. I even (barely) survived almost losing Michael to anaphylactic shock after he stepped into a hornet’s nest at age 12.
These are all big events - frightening events, but none of them so inspiring of the heebie-jeebies as this. It was a point of pride, that I had never had a child with headlice. Sort of like, “Yeah, I totally rock at this parenting thing", which is about as absurd as being proud that your child has never had a cold or been attacked by mosquitos. Ah, but pride goeth before the fall, right?? It just figures, too. I am, perhaps the germophobiest (is that a word? It should be), person you’d ever (not) want to meet. Ah-choo? Nice knowing you. Doctor’s offices? “Do NOT touch the toys, child!!!” Hospitals? Sheldon’s got nothing on me, as I ask myself, “Oh, what fresh hell is this?” As I write this, my heebies have jeebies! It is extremely humbling to realize that you cannot spare your child from the injuries and diseases of childhood, no matter how great a parent you are trying to be.
And yet, I had one more comeuppance. One more child, to teach me that I had yet to be truly and karmically served. So, here we are, after being up until 5:30am, washing with Nix and nitpicking nits, and squashing every little bugger I could find. Eight lice bugs. Eight lice bugs and about 30 nits pulled from her hair that probably only weigh a combined total of .00001 grams, and this is enough to show me what a smug asshole I’ve been about all of those notices I’ve gotten from school about other kids with lice. 'Not my kids', I would tell myself as I absently scratched my own head, and frantically checked my kids for signs of the dreaded scourge. 'Not in my house', reassuring myself that we were clean, and therefore would never have to make those embarrassing phone calls to playmates parents, warning of potential pestilence. What a maroon!
So, do I have them, too, you must be wondering? Who the hell knows? Have you seen how much hair I have?? Past my shoulders, which points out exactly how smart those moms who cut their hair are! As I mentioned before, I am a class 1 germophobe and hypochondriac, so I’m going to assume they’re in there somewhere! Besides, what fun would it be if I didn’t go through the same mortifying rituals my daughter is at the moment. I’ll consider it a bonding moment. Eyes watering from the stench of Nix shampoo? Check. Frizzed-out hair from combing with a nit comb? Check. Hair soaked in coconut oil? (at least, it’s conditioning, although I’m sure I will look like I’ve rolled in bacon grease for the next week) Check. Head wrapped in Saran Wrap, as I sit on my front porch amusing my neighbours with my pissed off expression because I now HATE the smell of coconut, and look like a recently lobotomized crazy person? Check, check. Maybe I can just pass it off as a home-permanent? Wait!!! Maybe THAT would kill them???
Oh, but however humbling, I know that I am not alone. And to make sure that any of you out there, who may be going through this know it, too, I am sharing this with you. So pass it on, because it could be
helpful, because I had no idea what nits really looked like, and even if you don’t need this as an educational reference, we could all use a giggle, and I’m happy to provide it. :)
Carla
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