Saturday, July 9, 2011

I'm sorry my blog has been so text-heavy the past few weeks. But I need to tell you guys something.

No one’s ever going to want to see me again after this and I know that and I’m mostly fine with it. I’ll probably move home to live in my parents' tool shed within the next couple of years anyway, so I am totally fine living the bulk of my mid- to late- 20s alone and sexless in a Los Angeles suburb. My life is going to be so much worse. I already know it.

So you guys? We found out the kids I watch have lice. For a while I thought my little girl Avery had just super dry scalp skin because, well, I was like, “God doesn’t hate Avery enough to give her lice.” Then I remembered that that's not a real reason and so I started Googling, out of curiosity, what lice looks like. After a frantic call from Summer, I realized Avery had lice (and has had it for months).

Now, lice has been talked about since I was in elementary school. We would frequently get notices home from school about so-and-so's breakout of lice and to check our heads so that we wouldn't spread it around. I never had lice before, even when the outbreak seemed like an epidemic at school. Having these bugs invade my situation has been a fear of mine for some time; however, I never suspected that at the age of 24 I would come across a lice outbreak. Maybe, with the exception of rape or having my dog repossessed, my number one fear is having my head covered in bugs. But I have a dog. And I live in a city with a lot of people. Tons and tons of people. And dirty whores go to the school these kids attend. In a way I knew it was a matter of time.

When it occurred to me that she might have lice, I had just gotten to their house yesterday morning. I was completely shocked when I looked at her head after she woke up. Her entire scalp, and even down her hair shafts, were covered in eggs. Big ones, small ones, kind of oval shaped ones. So I died inside looking at her in the bathroom. I died. Because I’m vain and her baby body is a precious temple. Like, that’s what she got. She's an 8 year old sweet thing with a big mouth and a cute body living in LA. It’s safe to say that that’s all she has at this point. So yes, I died for her.

However, you know, if you’re ever in a crisis, you want me there. Fact. I am really really good in crazy moments. A few weeks ago, I was at my friend's parents' house in my hometown, and her mom missed a step going downstairs with a laundry basket, fell, and broke her leg, wrist, and part of her arm. She has postmenopausal Osteoporosis so her bones just shattered. And I was like “HOLD ON, GAIL!” and I wrapped her leg in an ice pack and tied it off (“Don’t use the good towels!”) and ran to the phone so we could call 911. She later told me that my quick thinking saved the day. OK? Like, bitch can hold it down under pressure. Thought you knew.

I got on the phone with my mom and asked her very politely to check my head for lice. I rushed to my parents' house to meet her in the backyard, because my mom is a classy woman who doesn't even want the thought of lice in her household. She took one look at the hair above my neck and told me to go get me some powerful-ass shit at the drugstore that would annihilate any little motherfuckers trying to cross me, and then I began the process of having a total meltdown. Everything in my mind was spinning around... what do I need to throw away? How long has this been going on? Where did this come from? Why me?

I went to Rite Aid around the corner and picked up a $25 bottle of some lice-killing bullshit that was supposed to let me rest easy for the rest of my life. By the time I got back to the house with my kids (where I left them home alone), Summer let me know that a lice specialist was on her way over to check us all.

So this woman came over to assess the situation. Now, I'm not proud of this, but I started crying when I opened the front door. By this time, I had suspected that Noah (Avery's older brother) had lice too. And maybe even Summer... and her boyfriend... and my boyfriend... And that we somehow deserved it. That’s the only reason I could think of. “Well, Karin. You’re the idiot who thought you should move away from LA and your good job and probably have to live in a bad area because you blog for a living. That means that you deserve to have hair with bugs. This is what you get for trying to have a dream.”

I stopped crying long enough to have her rip through my hair with the finest of fine-toothed combs you ever saw. Now, whatever my mom saw on my neck was most likely dried up hairspray because I hadn't yet showered for the day. The lady told me to relax, and that if I had any lice particles in my hair, they were very few and had not been there long. So after some intensely painful combing, my hair is fine and presumably louse-free.

I then sat outside for two hours while Avery had every single strand of her hair examined. You would not believe the amount of lice, eggs, and shells being pulled from this little tiny angel's head. It was unbelievable. Nice Lice Lady moved on to Noah for a minute, who had SEVERAL LIVING lice on his head. I died. I died. I'm dead. Anyway, she got it all out but told me my best bet was to shave Noah's head. I did that at lunch time, which was my first time using an electric razor. It was way fun. FYI.

So far I have done about eight loads of laundry. I vacuumed. I bought a new hairbrush. I am confident that they are gone. Confident.

But everything on my whole body still itches. It's psychological and I hate it.

So, yeah. That was probably the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.