How are you?
Good thanks, well, except for the kids having nits yesterday.
The morning was a stock standard weekday, with me popping toast and yelling at various children to find library books and such. We got to the hair brushing portion of the festivities and I was mid plait when I saw it.
Awful it was, transparent flea like thing with black innards walking a strand of hair like behind my child’s ear. Now, I didn’t realise straight away that it was a louse, so I leant in further and squinted my eyes and tried to pick it out between my thumb and pointer finger, you know, all ‘What the fuck is that’ like.
As soon as I began to drag it down the length of hair to see what it was it dawned on me that it could be a nit, and I recoiled and promptly let it go.
It dropped on the fucking carpet. In a panic, I yanked out the hair tie and began raking through my daughters hair like I was rummaging through a newly stocked clearance yarn bin at Spotlight when I saw another, and then… another, and there was one in the fucking carpet, it was probably deep in the fibres giving birth to a thousand young by now.
I yelled at the middle child to forget the library bag and fetch me the steam mop, I must steam the carpet thoroughly, and immediately.
My head began to itch. The children, were forthwith disturbed by my request for the steam mop, because let’s be honest, I really don’t mop that often let alone steam anything, I am more of a grab an old towel, dampen it, add a couple of drops of eucalyptus so that everything smells fresher than it actually is, and walk it around the high traffic areas on my feet kind of person, but anyway, the child whose hair I was raking through turned around alarmed at my need to mop and asked “What’s wrong”?
In the same way they ask “Whose coming over?” when I begin to clean anything thoroughly.
“Oh nothing” I replied,” It’s just I think you may have nits”
The child’s bottom lip immediately dropped and in a shaken voice asked “What? Do they hurt?” before leaning in to cry into my shoulder.
I tried SO hard to be comforting, but I really just couldn’t get past the fact that her little head with her millions of strands of hair were now dangling really close to my own, so I offered her a quick squeeze and pried her a safe distance from myself and patted her gingerly on the shoulder.
“There, there, they don’t hurt, we just have to wash your hair that’s all, nothing to fear, excellent” *Pat pat “Now get off me dear” Before I tied my own hair tight and high on my head, giving it a liberal spray with extreme hold hair lacquer.
The middle child came ambling into the lounge room with the steam mop and one shoe on, I told him to come here so I could check his hair, to which he immediately refused.
‘Does she have nits?’ He asked, with a look of disgust on his face before delving into a thousand reasons as to why he wouldn’t have them.
Not wanting to upset the confirmed louse ridden child any further as she seemed to look like she may need another hug of reassurance, I announced that the infected child go and take off her school uniform, to which the middle child’s ears pricked up immediately as he connected having nits to missing a day of school and sat himself down in front of me to begin the inspection.
My worst fears were confirmed when I found more.
The Teen, next in line and also keen for a day off school removed his hat and took his seat. Now, the teen does wash his hair regularly, in fact I had it on good authority that he washed it the evening before, because both of the lids of my expensive shampoo were left open in the shower stall and now a third filled with water, but my god!
Teens hair is just nasty, I am sure it has something to do with the fact that he wears one of those fucked up little flat peaked hats everywhere he wanders and sweats a lot, but the grease was just… I can’t even. His hair where the hat sat resembled grass that had been covered in a bit of carpet for a period of time. You lift up the carpet and the grass underneath is damp and colourless, screaming for sunlight and oxygen. I know this, because the cat pissed on the back door mat a few weeks ago, I left it out on the lawn to hose it and forgot about it for three days.
Anyway, that isn’t important, what is important, was that the teen was lice free. I don’t particularly blame the lice to be honest; I wouldn’t buy up real estate in there either.
Meanwhile, two applications of lice killing solution, one natural one chemical cocktail, four, count them… FOUR thorough, strand by strand combings later, hot washed linen and a thorough stream mopping of all surfaces and soft furnishings later. We are nit free.
Seriously, if they come home with it again, I am kicking everyone in the dick. What a PAIN IN THE ASS nits are?!?
I asked Cabbage to comb through my hair twice when he got home, and he confirmed, no lice, although I STILL can’t stop scratching and to be safe I am off to do a home peroxiding and a thorough burning of my hair shaft with the straightener.
Barney Martin once told me that if I see steam when I am straightening, then I am doing damage, but I will not stop scratching till I have scorched every strand. My apologies Barney.
Happy scratching, I mean Thursday.