#1: We discovered lice on, not one, but all 3 of my children. Lice. Bugs in my children's hair. For those that know anything about me, I don't do bugs. Blech! So we've spent the week delousing our children and our house. And, if ever you are faced with such a horror, you MUST get yourself one of these*. It is the only thing that got us lice- and nit-free. (shivers again at the thought)
#2: My daughter got the stomach bug. I'm terrible with bugs, and vomit is a close second. I'm no good with vomit--especially when I'm already preoccupied with all the lice. So I lost pretty much a whole night's sleep cleaning up vomit and holding my 6-year-old's head over a bucket/toilet/sink/trashcan/any-and-all-handy-receptacles.
#3: I and my 8-year-old caught colds, so we've been talking like Fran from The Nanny (or Janice from Friends, if you prefer) and leaving a trail of used tissues wherever we go. We lay down and we can't breathe. Unfortunately my 8-year-old is what some might call "hyperbolically dramatic". We all know how well I do with drama, don't we? Yeah.
Needless to say, I'm sleep deprived. I'm strung out. I'm grumpy. But it's Friday, I told myself this morning. Suck it up. Muscle through. And when I arrived at work, a dear co-worker Sue came into my classroom with a cup of Sheetz cappuccino (which I love) and a note that said, "Here's hoping your weekend is delightful!"
I nearly started to weep. There is still kindness in the world, folks, to counteract all the louse-y-ness. It took a cup of coffee for me to be reminded of that this morning. So thank you, Sue. Hope has bloomed anew.
And, since I'm supposed to be posting poetry for National Poetry Month, here's Scotland's beloved Rabbie Burns paying homage to those critters I've spent the week destroying.
TO A LOUSE
By: Robert Burns
*Listen to Robert Carlyle read this one with his brogue and with fabulous panache. You'll LOVE it!*
Ha! whare ye gaun, ye crowlan ferlie!
Your impudence protects you sairly: I canna say but ye strunt rarely, Owre gawze and lace; Tho’ faith, I fear ye dine but sparely, On sic a place. Ye ugly, creepan, blastet wonner, Detested, shunn’d, by saunt an’ sinner, How daur ye set your fit upon her, Sae fine a Lady! Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner, On some poor body. Swith, in some beggar’s haffet squattle; There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle, Wi’ ither kindred, jumping cattle, In shoals and nations; Whare horn nor bane ne’er daur unsettle, Your thick plantations. Now haud you there, ye’re out o’ sight, Below the fatt’rels, snug and tight, Na faith ye yet! ye’ll no be right, Till ye’ve got on it, The vera topmost, towrin height O’ Miss’s bonnet. My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out, As plump an’ gray as onie grozet: O for some rank, mercurial rozet, Or fell, red smeddum, I’d gie you sic a hearty dose o’t, Wad dress your droddum! I wad na been surpriz’d to spy You on an auld wife’s flainen toy; Or aiblins some bit duddie boy, On ’s wylecoat; But Miss’s fine Lunardi, fye! How daur ye do ’t? O Jenny dinna toss your head, An’ set your beauties a’ abread! Ye little ken what cursed speed The blastie’s makin! Thae winks and finger-ends, I dread, Are notice takin! O wad some Pow’r the giftie gie us To see oursels as others see us! It wad frae monie a blunder free us An’ foolish notion: What airs in dress an’ gait wad lea’e us, And ev’n Devotion!
*I could write an entire blog post on the best way to get rid of lice after all the research and running around I've done--and maybe I will someday. But for now, if lice are your problem, buy the comb and read all the Amazon reviews for this product - they actually have alot of helpful insight!