If you're my friend on Facebook, you've probably read my umpteen million freak-out posts about how my children have recently acquired head lice after one week of public school.
On Sunday morning, as I was nursing a slightly sore throat and waiting for a friend to show up to attend Mass with us, I brushed Ivy's hair, looking closely at her scalp (something I just do out of habit anymore). And I saw what I had always been dreading- white eggy things attached to her hair.
I ran to the phone and immediately dialed my mom, who is part counselor and part dramatic inciter in these occasions. She confirmed what I was seeing must be true- my darling had lice.
Normally, I would get on top of things, make lists, take action. For some reason, I was so unnerved, I just sat on the porch and drank three cups of coffee. Three. As if the infestation wasn't leaping off of Ivy's head onto every piece of fabric in the house as I sipped. After about thirty minutes, I decided maybe I was wrong. I called Ivy over to the kitchen and took the flashlight. The eggs were still there and then something crawled and I threw the flashlight and screamed. Okay, no denying it now, I told myself. Time to move.
I packed my squirrely kids in the car with a vague thought about how the car was probably infested, too. We struggled through the door at Rite Aid, and I unceremoniously dumped both girls into a shopping cart and avoided anything close to their heads. I also threatened their very existence if they so much as touched anything with their pinkie finger. I pushed the buggy mercilessly forward in order to stop any silly questions about which fingers they could use to touch things.
When I got home, I dumped the goods on the kitchen table, known as Lice Ground Zero from that point on. I went crazy, ripping all the sheets off the beds. Anything fabric and washable was immediately thrown in a big heap in the dining room. I rubbed the kids furiously with the shampoo, rinsed, and spent 2 hours combing them out. I sprayed down the entire guest room to make a Lice-Free Zone (that I promptly locked the offspring out of) for the clean laundry. My washer and dryer went non-stop on the hottest settings for 24 hours.
Exhausted, I reached in my bathroom drawer for my hairbrush. I brought it closer to my hair, looking in the mirror, and stopped. Time was frozen. I was sure thousands of lice were bungee jumping from my brush to my hair. Finally, I threw the panic aside and launched the brush at the floor.
In my family, we have four combs and three brushes (Daddy gets by with just a comb). However, these brushes are not assigned to any one person. They're passed freely from family member to family member.....kind of like the hippie ideals of free love, just with hair care. In a panic, positive that lice were breeding and spilling out of both bathrooms, I snatched up all of the skanky, dirty brushes and threw them in the kitchen sink. I ran hot water over them, filled up a pan of water, boiled it, added bleach, and dunked them in. I kept them in there for several hours.
I emptied the pot and set them out to dry. Then, I needed a hairbrush. I picked one up, turned it over, and promptly put it back down. What if the bleach hadn't killed them? Would I infect my clean head?
I bagged all the brushes in a Ziploc. I finger combed my hair. I grabbed the keys and the kids and took off for the dollar store. I bought three brushes and three combs. (I can't help it, I like sharing a comb with my husband...Rob loads the comb down with hairspray, and when I use it on my wet hair, it somehow evenly distributes the leftover product into my hair.)
When we got back to the house, I opened all the new brushes and combs. I made sure they were all different so we'd never share again. Then, I looked at the sad and lonely plastic bag of our old brushes. I gently laid it on the table now known as Lice Ground Zero, not able to part with them just yet.
You never know just how attached to your hairbrush you will become. It sticks around longer than a toothbrush. Sometimes longer than a friend. A good hairbrush will grant you endless good hair days, and the karma that flows between you is like magic....okay, that's a little strong, but seriously? It broke my heart to throw them away. The girls had two brushes, one perfect for ponytails, the other great for pigtails. One of them had a mirror on the back that the girls liked to look in when I was done fixing their hair. I had a comb that I've had for a very long time- at least college. I stole it from my mom's bathroom when I was home for the weekend.
And normally, I am the opposite of pack rat. I throw everything out! I don't even print out my pictures anymore because they add to the junk in the house.....but my hairbrush? It's too personal, too much a friend at this point.
But today I took down "Lice Ground Zero," since I think the immediate threat is gone and I no longer need immediate access to lice shampoo and nit combs. I took the 30 gallon trash bags to the garage (guess I didn't need 40 of them after all). I put the Ziploc in the drawer (funny how I only used five out of the economy pack). The last thing to leave he table was my Ziploc of hairbrushes. I cried a little inside as I dropped it in the trash can.
Lice is the cause of many casualties in this house. Rest in Peace, hairbrush.
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