D-R-A-G-G-I-N-G my tail.
My kids came home from the beach last week with lice.
I COULD NOT believe a) they had lice or b) they had lice. It is so gross.
So far the adults have been in the clear, but I woke up last night convinced that I could feel bugs crawling around in my hair, and I couldn't go back to sleep after that.
Thus the feeling that I am going to fall asleep sitting up.
Don't worry, those of you who have been around my kids--they've been combed and shampooed and thoroughly searched, and I have had more exposure to the bugs than I'd prefer, but they seem like they have been cleansed of the nastiness. (Let us hope to the Lord that they have been cleansed of the nastiness.)
See, I wasn't even going to tell anyone about the "incident", because I'm so embarrassed that it happened, but I place the blame squarely on the house we stayed in at the beach. Besides, it is what it is, and now we can place another notch called "Lice Incident" in our belt of Things We Don't Ever Want to Deal With Again.
A shower cap worn at night when traveling isn't a bad idea.
This, and the menacing threat of bed bugs, hardly makes it worth it to travel (to me), which makes me wonder why I idealize vacations in the first place, even though yesterday I wrote about fear taking over my willingness to act. Yes. Now I have to add fear of lice (and bed bugs, because you never know, and I hate the very thought of them) to my list.
My daughter likes to hide and them jump out and scare her family members. I don't know why this is a source of entertainment for her, but when she is successful in her scaring endeavors, she laughs and laughs like it's the funniest thing she's ever seen in her whole entire life. This morning, as we were coming in the door, she hid in the kitchen and then jumped out at me, yelling GOTCHA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHA in my face.
THEN she hid AGAIN and jumped out at her brother, who was NOT expecting this surprise at 9 AM, and he nearly jumped out of his skin.
He screamed. Not out of surprise, but out of pure, unadulterated "I-am-so-PO'd-at-you" fury.
She just laughed and laughed at her success.
This PO'd him even more.
Before I could say anything motherly at all, I had an all-out war happening in my kitchen.
I don't like war.
Especially in my kitchen.
He screamed and yelled at her "YOU'RE SO MEAN" while she just Ha-Ha'd away, and then! Then he started to cry. I don't believe he was sad. I believe he was royally PO'd, in a big way.
After a hug from me, the charge from him that "she's mean, she's always mean", and my explanation that I really didn't think she was trying to be mean (WERE YOU?? I asked, because a parent can never be too sure), I made her say (a very insincere) sorry. And all the while, she's standing right in front of me, trying (not very hard, in my opinion) not to smile (she even went so far as to pull her cheeks toward her mouth, smashing her lips into a perfect little bow, mimicking the "I'm so fat, my mama's fat, my daddy's fat" joke to prove that she was really trying hard).
Both grievously offended parties marched off to their respective rooms, slammed the doors to make one last point (one must get the last word in or the argument is no fun), and here I am in the Land Of Peace and Quiet.
I even thought to myself "I don't care if they stay in their rooms all day", but then what kind of parent imprisons their children in their own rooms for the entire day?
Unless, of course, the prison sentence is self-imposed, and then I have zero responsibility in that regard.
But alas, the younger of the offended has emerged from his dungeon of doom happy (excited, no less) to be alive, and I can hear the two chattering about the next game they will play and what to have to lunch.
As a parent, I don't really know what I'm doing. I just try to roll with the punches. Lice. Scare tactics. War. Peace. Love. Hugs.