May you never have an infestation of lice in your house. That is what I’m wishing for you. May your children never attend a school where, when lice breaks out (and they break out everywhere — rich schools, poor school, private and not. They are geniuses at surviving. That is why lice will live and thrive long, long, long after I am gone) — if and when lice does break out — may the nurses, staff and parents at your school CHECK HEADS, SEND LETTERS HOME, MAKE PHONE CALLS.
And may they not roll their eyes at you and treat you like you’re some unreasonable crazy bitch.
That’s right. Me. I am a bitch in many ways, but this is not one of them. Wanting this to not happen to someone else is a kindness on my part, a bit of community service. It’s not me being unreasonable. Supposedly a letter is going home. None of the parents I’ve talked with has seen one yet. The school nurse checked the kids in my daughter’s class, but none of the other classes.
This is irresponsible and wrong. I’m keeping the kids home next week, too. I found three more teeny tiny live bugs on my sweet daughter’s noggin yesterday, and none today. I would pick the eggs off if I could see any. They are microscopic tiny, nearly invisible. I combed through her hair with tea tree oil and picked out a couple of bits that looked like eggs, but weren’t.
Internet, I’m a little glum over here. Good news — my sister is braving our home and is stopping by this afternoon to bring us videos. But no hugs. Everyone is at arm’s length. Who can blame them?
My in-laws canceled their visit — they were supposed to get here today. Again, who can blame them? In-laws get a bad rap. I like mine and am sad we won’t see them now for probably a few months.
On a bright note, we’re getting groceries delivered tomorrow. Sure, my husband could do the shopping, but that would be an extra hour he was away from us and not picking through my hair for non-existent bugs. (So far Wacky Girl is the only lice victim in the house.)
“You’re fine, baby,” he told me last night, then, under his breath, “I think the lice are frightened of you.”
Crazy, no? I can’t stop itching, and feeling invisible crawlies.
Crazy, but not a bitch.