I have to do it, but I'm going to wear a disguise because God help me if anyone sees me.
I put on a blond wig, wear a ridiculous outfit, and hop in my car.
I get to the parking lot, and I meet the "dealers" inside.
I turn my back on them, surreptitiously drop a $100 bill on the counter and mutter under my breath, "I'll take five kits and four sprays."
I am now a "buyer".
I leave in a rush to deliver the junk - suddenly I am now a "distributor" and since I am receiving money for the product, I'm also a "seller"....
***I wish I could say that I got away from the dealer's without incident, but since my transaction actually took place in a "Snip-its", I was unexpectedly mobbed by the children in the shop because for some reason still unclear to me, they mistook me for Lady Gaga.
So, no - I was not buying drugs, but for what I was buying, ("Fairy Tales" Lice-Removal Kits and their Rosemary Repel Leave-In Conditioning Spray) it sure felt like it. Yes, I am talking about lice, folks. I'm saying it out loud, and I am blogging it. It's out there, it happened to my tribe, and I hope that through my experience, I can make it kind of funny instead of shameful, embarrassing, and downright skeevey. (No- forget that- it is totally skeevish).
The call comes in from the school nurse. You're home doing nothing major, just cleaning off your desk. Next thing you know, you're dashing up to the school, totally hyper-ventilating and thinking, "There is NO WAY my kid has lice." But guess what: my kid has lice. I ask the nurse to call down my other daughter, and sure enough, she has it too. "Don't worry," says the nurse, "She is one of several I have found today." Not feeling much better knowing that, I take my crying daughters home and join them in their tear-shedding for many more hours. I am completely overwhelmed, and everything I look at in my entire house, I believe, is CONTAMINATED. The laundry pile is now considered the "Bio-Hazard Basket". The beds, pillows, blankets, the stuffed animals! Ya-Ya, Jo-Jo, Dee-Dee, Moonah, Bunny-Blank and Sarge? Yup, put 'em all in a military-grade plastic garbage bag and bury them in an air-tight sealed bunker for about six weeks. Then maybe, MAYBE, they'll be salvagable. Stand By, my Angels.... And let's not forget about the bike helmets, the head-rests in the car, the arms of the couch, etc. Once you see lice on the head, you see it everywhere else. Total psychological damage.
You're afraid to tell anyone. But you have to, because how are you going to explain the fact that you have completely dropped off the face of the planet? You and all of your children? After a couple of days, people will start calling. Your friends, once you tell them, ask you if you need anything? (Hoping, for sure, that they can deliver what you request in a drive-by delivery.)
You tell them, "Yes, in fact, I do. Can you grab me some hair clips, 57 shower caps, 145 long-handled combs, some funky-framed +1.50 reading/magnifying glasses (argyle or cheetah pattern, preferably), paper towels, a spray bottle, new towels, sheets, pillows, comforters and 2 more of those freakin' poodle combs? Thanks. Oh, and pick me up a carton of Marlboro 100's so I can treat my anxiety throughout the night because I am way too repulsed and grossed out to sleep. Here's $800- I hope it's enough! Thanks a-wicked-lot! You're the best, see you in a few!"
Thank God for HIPAA, right? It is with the utmost discretion that you are told about your child's lice. Which is great, until you think your child is "clear" to go back to school. It was so rampant in our school at one point, there was actually a line outside the nurse's office so she could check your child in order for them to "get in" to school. You don't speak to anyone, you don't make any eye-contact, and you wear that "I have no idea what YOU guys are waiting for, but I'm NOT waiting for the same thing as what I already think/know YOU guys are waiting for" fake look on your face.
You watch, as a mom and her son/daughter comes out of the office, and walks, head-down, out to their car, back home for some more excruciating comb-outs and nit-picking. After three or so days, your kid "gets in" and you, as the parent, now view everything in the school with a sort of, well...contempt. Because your kid got it here (possibly) and it is where your child happened to be when it was found. You are now, as of this moment, an "advocate". You want all of the "comfy chairs", stuffed animals, rugs, goofy hats, (dunce caps?) removed from the classroom. The headphones in the library- wrap 'em up for 3 weeks. Actually, no, my daughters will bring their own! Next day, there they are: doing FastMath with their brand new BOSE headphones on. You no longer think anyone should share lockers, be partners, and you question "lunch buddies". There should be no Lost & Found bin; it should be non-existent...Lost & Incinerated is more like it.
Speaking of Angels, I felt SO bad for my kids during, let's call it..."The Removal Process". Especially in the beginning. I was patient and kind; sympathetic and understanding. "Go ahead, Sweetheart, you go get yourself a drink because I know it's hard to sit here while I try to remove one egg, and take 27 strands of hair with it." But eventually, when another request is made such as "Can I go to the bathroom now?" or, "Mom, are we going to have dinner tonight?" (You reply, screeching, "What time is it?" and the child in the chair says, "7:40 PM"), you know you are beginning to lose it. How about when you DO decide to take a break, and you go into your bedroom (seeking sanity?) and the "affected" child follows in and hops up on your bed and starts complaining? You empathize, and you want to hug them and reassure them that this too, shall pass...but instead, in the frightening Linda Blair voice you didn't even realize you possessed, you say, "GET OFF OF MY BED! YOU'RE GOING TO GET IT ON MY BED!" Then you feel like a total jackass because you made them start to cry, and it's really not their fault that they have "it" to begin with.
I've written enough to start. Go over this with a fine-toothed comb, and watch for Part 2 next week sometime. It only gets better...
