This week has been a beating. Annie (6) was sick most of the week, and sleep was at a premium around here.
By Wednesday afternoon, though, she started feeling better, so I offered to help Dennis do some running around for a Father-Son camping trip he's going on this weekend.
My job: lug the two younger ones, search the metro area (by Google) and purchase two of these:
All I can say is, that's not my kind of camping, folks.
(It's been my pleasure serving you. Now go have fun, boys!).
Of course it was late when we got back, so it was a quick dinner and baths. Dennis had gone to the store (again) to get more camping gear (can we NEVER go camping without buying more STUFF?)
As I was drying Annie's hair, I thought I saw something. Moving. Oh no, it couldn't be...could it?
That's right folks, my big lion this week is a teenie-weenie one: head lice.
For those of you uninitiated, I will direct your attention here. No, these critters do not carry disease and are not a sign of low socioeconomic status or abysmal hygiene standards. When you have a bunch of kids and you let them out of the house occasionally, odds are pretty good one of them will bring home unwanted visitors on a rare occasion. And my, these visitors are sure a pain in the you-know-what.
I immediately called Dennis at the store to pick up the Big Guns (I know, I know, there are "natural" methods, but at 8 p.m. on a school night seeing vermin in my child's hair, I needed to know this was going to work!).
We haven't had to deal with this since Neal's (12) entire second-grade baseball team succumbed in the infamous Shared Batting Helmet Incident. It wasn't fun then, and, well, nothing much has changed.
Anyway, in case you wonder what I've been doing all day long, in addition to my usual eating bon-bons, having my nails done, and watching soaps, I've been washing sheets, towels, vacuuming furniture, mattresses and floors. Then, when I get done with that, I wash sheets, towels, and vacuum furniture, mattresses and floors - and of course, comb hair.
My friend Carol's husband and son (who, incidentally, was on that ill-fated baseball team) left with Dennis and Neal and the Luggable Loos for the campout this afternoon. The original plan was to get our girls together for a Girls' Night In. Carol (wisely) declined the sleepover option, but instead, offered to come over and help me wash sheets, towels, and vacuum furniture, mattresses and floors, and, in the ultimate friendship bonding experience, comb hair. I told you she was awesome.
Carol even went through my hair, with me lying flat on the patio table outside as she combed. We chatted about school and kids and husbands and this insanity we call our lives. It was oddly relaxing. Funny how life stops at the weirdest times.
Much as I would love to post pictures, they would be serious blackmail material, not so much for me, but for my tweens and teen, who would just die to see their mother's scalp posted on the internet for all to see. (And just to let you know, I'm clean.)
So the moral of the story is twofold:
1-No matter what happens, if it's bad, it's always going to happen when husbands are (or are heading) out of town.
2- No matter how big or how small they are, it's better to chase lions with friends.