Do the Hail Marys. Even if you aren’t Catholic.


When I was 7year old, we sat in the bathroom during Hurricane Alicia. I was living in Houston with my parents and very tiny sister, who was only 2 at the time, sleeping quietly in the safest area of the house: under the bathroom sink.

My parents listened to the weather on a battery powered radio while the walls shook and tornadoes clamored around the neighborhood. We walked in to the eye of the storm where we found our fence down the street at our neighbor’s house, ten doors down.

At the time I didn’t realize my parents pissed off someone holy. I didn’t know God was a revenge sort of guy and that my mom probably chewed the wafer at Communion that week so we were doomed to lose a fence and all our backyard toys.

Now, though, I understand the weight of being a mother. We bear the responsibility for the natural, and the unnatural, disasters.

Including Lice.

Yesterday, I was happily writing a post for my daughter’s tenth birthday, while yelling at her to stop itching her head. It had been a very busy weekend with a soccer game, gymnastics party, family coming over. So the first quiet moment since a deliverable push at work and all the aforementioned things, I sat writing about her turning ten, thinking all the lovely thoughts of her, while I periodically yelled, “SERIOUSLY! STOP ITCHING!”

And then I realized, holycrap she is itching. A lot. So we dove in to her hair and saw nothing. Nothing. I mean hair, yea, but that’s it. So we told her to go shower, we told be boy to go shower, and they came back clean and pretty. And then I checked again this time with a light and a fine tooth comb. Nothing. And then. Something.

So we did what every parent of this age would do: We watched a lot of youtube videos about searching for Lice.

Waaaayyyy too many videos are out there about lice.

Or baby monkeys on pigs.

So I read some things about Lice and THIS happens to speak exactly to people like me. CLEAN PEOPLE. PEOPLE WITH OCD. PEOPLE WHO LIKE WINE.

Then came the Freaking Out Our Shit. To be fair, It was just me freaking out my shit, but I did it enough for the all of us.

After emailing and texting people we saw this weekend with the good news, “HEY! FORGET ABOUT EBOLA! Just worry about head lice. You might have caught it from us so see? LIFE IS GOOD! You’re welcome.”

Then we started treatment and I realized that lice is no laughing matter.

Maybe worthy of a few puns, but certainly not laughing matter.

As I sit here with Mayonnaise on my hair (the legit kind, not the usual Veganniase that we eat), and watch the children with their coconut oil hair with shower caps, I think we may have survived this episode.

I’m not so ready to be confident of that, though, because, as the RID shampoo brochure stated, “These assholes can hold their breath for a really long time and promise to infest your life for possibly ever.”

I’m pretty sure I read that somewhere, anyway. I’ll let you know how this turns out. And promise not to share my hair scrunchie.

Posted: 12/10/2013

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