12 Aug 2014

First Day. First Grade.

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In the car as we pulled up to school, to first grade today, I swallowed my tears as I turned to look at G, unbuckling his seat belt in the backseat.

“I had a great time with you this summer.”

He saw his friend up the street. “CHASE!” He was already opening the car door. “CHASE!” Chase turned and waved, continuing to walk. We crossed the street, holding hands, seeing the familiar faces that were absent the last two months. “I”m gonna catch up to him”, he said already in a jog.

I said hello to several families as I sprinted up the sidewalk, trying to catch up so I could watch him walk into school for the first time this year.

As we headed to the handball courts to find out his classroom, more and more kids showed up. G was saying hello to them, anxious to get it all started. He had shot out of bed this morning proclaiming, “FIRST GRADE!” He had gotten dressed, eaten, brushed his teeth, graciously sat through pictures, reminded me to pack his snack. And now he was here, beginning again.

He got in the line for his class, noting the unusually large number of girls compared to boys (which probably makes him very, secretly happy). He was excited about his amazing teacher, who happens to be a close friend and who I am over the moon about. I saw more and more parents, gave more and more hugs, and could not stop sweating. It’s hot here, and I had run after Garrett, and I am not kidding about the sweat. I kept apologizing for my disgustingness as the sweat kept pouring. But G? Cool as a cucumber. I was the picture of nerves. He was the opposite.

I asked what our “goodbye situation” was. Was I allowed to give him a kiss? I was not. But, as the line started moving he quickly hugged me and gave me a familiar signal, a private one, that I didn’t think I would get. And the smile. He is so ready for this.

As I watched him head to class, proud Oregon backpack on his shoulders, I noticed he was not glancing back. Not even a little. He was looking forward. Straight ahead. I didn’t follow to see him put away his things in his new closet. I wanted to, but I didn’t. He is teaching me always about who he is. And I am learning, always, about who I want to be, as his mom.



11 Aug 2014

August 11, 2014

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It’s officially the last day of summer and I can’t believe how fast it has gone. Tomorrow starts the hustle and bustle of homework, lunches, PTA meetings, volunteering, fitting auditions in when I can, fitting work it when it comes, hitting the gym, and trying to start making dinners at home again. I’m going to miss Summer break.

The last two months has been a flurry of incredible fun, adventures, and dining out. And, after 10 straight months of daily workouts, it was also a flurry of exercise inactivity.

I gained weight. More than I thought I could gain in eight weeks. It was a lesson in how quickly I can undo everything I worked so hard to do in the first place.

I would change nothing about this summer except for showing some self-control and fitting in workouts at home. Everything would have been exactly the same but I wouldn’t be in the position I’m in now. That position mostly involves sitting on my extra-cushioned ass and mentally smacking myself for eating so many tortilla chips.

I’m not exactly sure how I’m going to get back on track, but I AM GOING TO GET BACK ON TRACK.

In the mean time, I’ve got a super fantastic first grader to think about. FIRST GRADE!! Unreal.

10 Aug 2014

What Just Happened

No Comments Cooking/Baking, Family, Nutrition

All I know is Summer Break just started, and now it’s over. And a lot of shit happened in between.

Garrett became even more confident, more independent, and more sassy than I thought he ever could (before turning seven).

I had six days to myself when G went to Oregon to stay with Grandma Farm.

I got about 1/4 of the things done that I wanted to get done in the six days I had to myself.

Russ and I drove to Oregon to spend some time with the fam, and grab our boy. The drive up was amazing and reaffirmed everything I already knew about my marriage: It’s awesome. I’m lucky. My husband is the coolest dude ever. We kick ass on a road trip.

Oregon was lovely as always.

Russ, G and I drove to San Francisco to spend four nights in the city by the bay, where I had never been. I managed to bust my foot so bad that after the first day I needed crutches to walk, and my boys spent the last day without me. They went to Fisherman’s Wharf and a freaking Giants/Dodgers game. I lay in the hotel room, my foot up on pillows, eating car snacks for dinner. We were out $100 for my seat at the game.

G decided to spend the last week of his break at gymnastics camp, improving his grip strength, flip ability, and foam pit technique. I caught up on doctor’s appointments and paperwork, then I started to freak out about school starting and how unprepared I feel (again), and how much I feel like I have to do before we’re back on the hamster wheel and I officially become the PTA Treasurer. (Really, really bad idea.)

Last school year, G complained that I was making too many sandwiches. All of the sudden he was sick of them. That came crashing back to me a few nights ago, so I made a list of 10 lunches I can make for him, only two of which involve “sandwiches”. I’m hoping it will help me be more organized and less “WHAT AM I MAKING MY KID FOR LUNCH?” And I’m counting on it making him happier at lunch time.

I posted the fact that I was making menus on Facebook and Twitter and everyone laughed at me. A few people private messaged me asking for my menus. So, I’m going to post them here for those people. And… When I say “a few”, I mean “two”.

This will give you all a chance to laugh at me openly by leaving a comment here, or to secretly print these menus to accomplish the same thing I hope to accomplish this year.  The choice is yours! Either way, we all know I’m a nut bag.

Hope your summer has been wonderful. Mine truly was. I’m sad it’s over, but looking forward to the adventure of First Grade. And I’m GOING to blog this school year. Because if I can make a 10 day rotating lunch menu… I can write a few sentences each day. Right?? RIGHT????


PITA PIZZA, carrots, individual hummus cup, pretzels, grapes

HOT DOGS, string cheese, baked snap peas, dried fruit, trail mix

CHICKEN SALAD, wheat thins, cucumber, banana muffin, raisins

PB&J SUSHI, celery & ranch, cheddar cheese, apple sauce, graham crackers

SALAMI & CHEESE, ritz crackers, carrots, popcorn, cantaloupe

WONTONS, crispy rice roll, cucumber & ranch, banana muffin, grapes

MAC & CHEESE, celery & cream cheese, dried fruit, baked snap peas, animal cookies

CHICKEN NUGGETS, carrots, hummus, goldfish, cantaloupe

TURKEY SANDWICH, pretzels, apple sauce, muffin, celery & ranch

BAGEL W/ CREAM CHEESE, CINNAMON & HONEY, raisins, cucumber, trail mix, animal cookies



17 May 2014

Potty Mouth

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I need to get something off my chest, and it’s something I’m going to get a whole lot of flack for. Here goes:

I do not think “stupid” is a bad word.

I’m tired of hearing kids say, “OH!! I just heard the “S” word!!” Or “Did you know they say the “S” word in that movie?” Or “Timmy! “Stupid” is a bad word and I don’t want to hear it out of your mouth again!”

Stupid isn’t a bad word, in my opinion. It’s a descriptive word when, used cruelly, can be hurtful. So, if a child calls another child “Stupid”, that child has used a perfectly fine word in a very mean way. But if the same child calls his pen “stupid” because the ink ran out? No harm done. If I say, “This NY Times crossword puzzle is making me feel so stupid”, that is most likely an accurate statement, and I should switch to doing it in pencil. (As if I get the NY Times!) If someone in the car in front of me makes a terrible choice, causing me to almost have an accident, I feel COMPLETELY justified in saying, “THAT was a STUPID move!”

Stupid isn’t the “S” word. Shit is.

I think we give words WAY too much power. We should be focusing on the context in which words are used, and not the words themselves. If I tell my son to never use the word “hate” because it’s a bad word, I’m taking away his ability to say, “Mom, I really hated school today.” Am I supposed to say, “You mean you didn’t LIKE school today?” That’s unfair. Or what if he hates the way a kid made him feel? Or he hates wearing purple because it makes him feel STUPID? Why is that word so bad? I hate cruelty. I hate abuse. I hate all of my makeup right now and I need some new eyeliners. Is it okay that I used the “H” word?? Now, If G were to come home and say, “I hate so-and-so because they wouldn’t pass the ball to me at lunch”… We need to have a conversation about that word, because it was used in a cruel way.

“Fat” is okay to describe a wad of cash or a punched lip. “Fat” is not okay to describe a human being.

“Ugly” can be used to describe a shaved cat, or the area on my windowsill in the kitchen where all the paint is peeling. It’s also a wonderful word to use when someone is not being respectful: “That is very ugly language to use when talking to an adult.” It shouldn’t be used to describe a person, or anything that person is wearing.

Instead of just giving these words a bad name, can’t we be responsible enough to tell our kids how to use them properly?

My son heard the F-word on a show the other night. Instead of just letting it go, I idiotically pointed out that it was a very bad word. It wasn’t my proudest moment, but it happened. The next day he was in the car with a friend and he said, “I know a bad word that rhymes with puck!” I almost had a heart attack. I whipped around, (I was in the passenger seat, so I wasn’t being a stupid driver), and said “That is ENOUGH!” That night he told me it was so hard to have that word in his head and not say it out loud. So I told him to say it. And he did. (And it was hilarious but I didn’t allow myself to react as though it was.) Then I said, “Do you feel better now?” He said he felt a little better but it was so hard to know the word and not say it. I told him it wasn’t hard and he said, “How do YOU know?”

I said, “Because I’ve used the word many times. It’s a grown-up word, and I’m allowed to use it. But you’ve never heard me say it, and neither have any of your friends or teachers, because I don’t need to say it all the time.” Then I told him if I ever find out that he taught it to any of his friends, or used it in front of anyone he would be in deep trouble.

It is my responsibility to make sure my son knows that the F-Word is not a nice word to use. He knows it now. He can’t un-know the word. But he is in control of himself and he has two choices: Don’t use it. Or use it and suffer the consequences.

So, I am officially taking the position that “Stupid” is not the “S” word.  It isn’t, in fact, a bad word at all (in my humble opinion).

I know many of you disagree with me. I really want to hear from you. I also really want to hear from you if you agree with me!

And if you don’t share your thoughts, you’re a big, fat, stupid, ugly jerk.

23 Apr 2014

My New Motto

8 Comments Health, Personal Crap, Uncategorized

Yesterday I visited a new chiropractor. It was both an embarrassing and enlightening visit. I was pretty out of whack, and the painful deep tissue stuff he was doing sent me into a sweating jag not seen since Albert Brooks in Broadcast News. This is how I used to sweat whenever anyone asked for my autograph in the Mad TV days, moving the uncomfortable teen who had just asked for my signature to THEN ask if I was alright or needed some water, or a chair. Or CPR.  Dr. Greg laughed when I apologized for the drips of salty liquid pouring from my forehead, chest, back, and anywhere else sweat can come from. He turned the air on full-blast when he had to apply heat to my lower back. When I told him I was mortified he replied, “Well, I’ve seen you at your worst now, so it can only go up from here!”

But this is not the point. Sometime after he removed the heat and started kneading my muscles again, he asked what my stress level was. Any time any doctor has ever asked me this question, my immediate response is, “It’s HIGH!” But this time was different. I wasn’t sure how to answer because I WAS sure the answer wasn’t “It’s HIGH!” I searched my brain for the correct thing to say. And then, “It’s not so bad, really.” “Huh”, he said, “Because usually people with this kind of knotting have very high stress levels.”  I thought again, really considering everything in my life. “Yeah, no. I really don’t have a lot of stress right now.”

Let me stop here and say that my life is basically the same as it’s always been. I don’t, however, have a father who is dying, a mother who is in deep mourning, or a small baby who needs me for every little thing. So, I need to make it clear that things now are certainly easier than they were a two and three years ago.

Now, for the other things that have changed.

A year ago I cut out gluten. I did it in the hopes to have more energy and less bloating. Six months into it, I discovered I was slightly allergic to it which made me even more resolved to cut it out. I believe with all my heart that, even though it did very little to help my bloating, it cut my anxiety levels by more than half.

Six months ago, I cut out dairy. I think this helped, too.

But here’s where the actual work comes in:

I went to a therapist I had been seeing off and on for years. She gave me ways to change my behavior instead of me waiting for everything around me to change. Little things that I do now have saved me from tons of stressful moments which would have turned into stressful days and weeks. I won’t spell it all out for you here, because I believe it’s all different for everyone and what I had to change is not necessarily what you might need to change. But what I will say is that, if every day feels like a weight on your shoulders and you find yourself slamming your desk or your steering wheel, or screaming because someone angered you, or crying because it’s all just too much… Think about the common denominator and what you could possibly do to change it.

Last but most certainly not least: Garrett is the wisest boy in the world.

When I was at my height of stress and anxiety, he was as well. He would see me exhibit all of the above behaviors and I would just want to die when I saw the look on his face. But I couldn’t stop what I was doing. He asked me too many times if I was okay or if I was mad, and he began finishing my sentence when I would say, “I’m not mad I’m just… FRUSTRATED.” He began showing signs of stress, too. I was desperately trying to fix it.

Then one morning as we were having our typical mental breakdowns trying to get out of the house, I told him we had to rush because we only had two minutes. He looked into my eyes and calmly said, “Mom, we can rush. But we don’t have to worry.” The difference that made for me is immeasurable. I actually HEARD him. We can rush. But we don’t have to worry. I hugged him so hard and I told him that could be our motto from now on. That was about two months ago and we have not had one bad morning since. We still rush around a bit but if either of us feels distressed, the other will say, “Rush but don’t worry!” and it all goes away.

It’s so simple. It’s painfully simple. And you can apply it to every single thing in your life.

Rush but don’t worry.

Have a party but don’t worry.

Get the laundry done but don’t worry.

Cook. Or don’t. But don’t worry.

Go to that meeting. But don’t worry.

Yes, it’s easier said than done sometimes. But, far more often than not, it’s easily done.

The cat pukes on our blanket for the second time this week. I want to scream but I did that the last time. So this time, I put all the shit in the washing machine and I move on with my day.

I have a few of G’s friends over for a play date. The house isn’t as clean as I’d like, and when they leave there will be an even bigger mess. So? Live in that moment. Don’t worry. It all gets done.

If I have an audition and no time to prepare, I figure it out. Worrying only makes it impossible for me to learn my lines or find the character’s voice.

I breathe a lot more now. In and out slowly. It’s much more nourishing than my heart beating out of my chest while my fists clench and unclench. I also work out five times a week. I know, without a doubt in my mind, that this is beyond helpful. And I know so many of us don’t have the time. I thought I didn’t have the time, but I go right after drop-off every day, or I’ll go at 4:00 when kids club is open, and take G with me. I work out with friends, and it makes all the difference.

I don’t have a full-time job. But I do have auditions. A lot of them. And I have the unsettling feeling of not knowing if I will ever work again, or if I’ll make enough to get health insurance or if Russ were to stop working, will I ever be viable enough in this business to pick up the slack? My schedule is never the same, and this is hard too. I also know that things come up to throw a wrench into the system now and then. There are emergencies and disasters and surprises we never see coming. And I hope those things are few and far between, but I also hope I am able to deal with them well.

Rush but don’t worry.

I promise if you can adopt this principle, your life will change. Or it won’t. But don’t worry.

31 Dec 2013

I Resolve, 2014

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This year’s resolutions are not “less”, they’re more.
I’m not going to resolve to eat less or weigh less.
I’m going to resolve to write more, create more, be more patient, be more grateful, enjoy more of the moments given to me, exercise more, laugh more.
Oh, a couple lesses: Less stress, less anxiety, and less guilt.
More Fun. More Happy. More Good. That’s my motto for 2014.
Hope your year is filled with more good stuff than you can handle.
And please be safe this New Year’s Eve, so you can get to 2014 in one piece.

15 Dec 2013

New Member

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We adopted a puppy today. He’ll be coming to live with us permanently by January 1st.

So, will people be bringing us casseroles and presents like they did when we had Garrett? I’d like that. I just want  you all to remember I’m gluten and dairy free. And if anyone wants to throw me a puppy shower, I’d be totally into that. He’s a boy, so nothing pink.

26 Aug 2013


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It was inevitable.

After eight glorious weeks of summer, filled with enormous amounts of fun, a heart-filling trip to Oregon, endless hugs and laughter and, yes some frustration, impatience and yelling… It finally came.

Kindergarten. The thing I have dreaded, fret over, lost sleep from, and worried about for over a year.

G started school with two teeth gone, and one waiting to fall. He started it bravely. So bravely that most of my own fears were assuaged; a relief considering what I thought was going to happen his first day. We were allowed to follow him to his class that day, and after his new teacher had them all sit on the multi-colored rug, she abruptly asked us to wave goodbye. G turned to me, the panic in his eyes only mirroring my own. I smiled at him and shrugged as if to say, “I guess this is it!” But he  wouldn’t have it. He boldly asked his new teacher if he could run to give us hugs, and she incredibly kindly, and against her better judgement, said he could. He milked the next two minutes, going back and forth between Russ and I, hugging, kissing, hugging again. Then he looked toward the rug, saw his future, and told us he had to go. One last hug each, and out the door we went, leaving our little man to start his first steps on the road of education.

Or something like that.

He started on a Tuesday. They get out an hour early on Tuesdays. So I showed up at 1:19, waiting with the other parents, and with bated breath, to see how day one went.

The first words out of his mouth were, “I loved it so much, I wish I could stay longer.”

Relief doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt.

That night we sat down to do his homework together and immediately began fighting. My child just wants to know how to do everything without being shown. So I had to back off a bit and let him learn and flail and ultimately succeed. We made a deal that night that I would always sit with him, but only help if he asks. I’m not kidding when I tell you that homework time is one of my favorite times of day now.

Day two was the tough one. I was without Russ’ support, and I couldn’t follow G to class that day. I could only stand on the gray concrete where they line up, and watch him follow his already beloved teacher around the corner to his classroom. He was excited and happy. I was, too. And then, as soon as he was out of sight, I teared up. This was real now. No turning back.

Week two began with G wanting to run laps before school. They give the kids tickets for each lap they run and then they count the tickets up for each class. The classes with the most laps run in each grade get recognized at Monday morning assembly, and get a certificate to hang up in class. Somehow we are getting out of the house by 7:30 most days so that he can run and work up a real sweat before line up.  At this morning’s assembly, they announced that his room was the winner last week with 130 laps. G ran 24 of those.

And there have been changes in me, too. I work out every day now, right after I drop him off. I’m going to bed earlier and waking up brighter. I am letting myself learn from him now, because he knows a lot of stuff about how to act and how to be patient and happy.  I’m cherishing every moment even more than I was.

He lost his third tooth last week. He has made new friends. He thinks his teacher is beautiful and brilliant. He loves his music teacher. He was sad this morning just before the walk to class. It was an especially busy weekend and those are the hardest to come out of. But I have a feeling when I pick him up today he’ll say that things were great at school, and he’ll ask for a snack and he’ll want to know what fun thing we’re doing this afternoon. And I will look at him in complete awe, because I’m so amazed at how lovely this transition has been.

I spent over a year worrying about this time.

In just two weeks, he has proven to me that I worry too much.







24 Jun 2013

My Little Man… Today

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This is who he is today. Two months from six-years-old, a pre-school graduate, eight weeks away from starting kindergarten. He wouldn’t think of not dressing up to graduate. He is obsessed with anything having to do with the creatures who live in the ocean, especially Giant Squid and Sperm Whales. He still has all of his baby teeth, but three of them are “wobbly”, as he likes to say. He is polite, saying “Excuse me” whenever he has a question for an adult. He can’t walk by a dog without petting it. He loves to show younger kids the ropes. He loves to look at older girls. He is so into Big Time Rush music that it’s all we listen to in the car. He still says “mine” instead of my… As in, “This is mine book about sea creatures.” He is so proud of the trophy he got for completing his t-ball season. He hugs his friends with all of his might. He hugs and kisses me all the time. He yells, “I love you” and “air hug” and “remember to say I love you in your head today” any time we say goodbye. He can’t stand making mistakes, he loves to draw, he’s an incredibly fast runner, and he’s got a “great arm”. If you ask him what he wants to be when he grows up he’ll say, “I want to study Whales and Squids and get to see them battle in the deep, deep ocean”, or “A paleontologist”. He doesn’t like vegetables, except for carrots. He loves any kind of fruit you put in front of him. His favorite foods are pizza and burgers… And anything made with sugar. He wants a sibling. He is joyful and stubborn and incredibly smart and funny.

This is who he is… Today.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned since Garrett was born, it’s to expect constant change. Phases that last for a year, that I think will never end, end with a whisper. Obsessions change in the blink of an eye.

For nearly a year, G couldn’t go to sleep without a song called “No Dreams Garrett”. It was accompanied by a hand gesture that indicated a magic spell and sips of his water that turned into a potion. One night he didn’t want the song. And that was that.

For about six months last year, G was having anxiety. (Probably because I was having anxiety too.) Every day he asked if he was going to throw up. Then one day he stopped.

For nearly two years, we couldn’t pass any major landmark in our lives… The school, the diner, the store… Without G (and us) yelling out loud what we were passing. We don’t really do that anymore.

One thing that never changed was our goodbye ritual at school. For three years of preschool, G and I hugged, kissed, hugged and kissed again, then had an elaborate waving ritual with him at the window, and me walking toward the car. The windows changed as he got older, but not the goodbyes. “I love you”, “Air hug”, “See you at three” was paired with thumbs-up, waves, salutes, air hugs, and one final wave after rounding the corner then popping back around. Tuesday was our last one of those. I know next year “Real School” starts, and that won’t happen again.




I know these “endings” are harder for me than they are for him. They stab at my heart with a sharp edge, but the pain fades as the new beginnings start.  And as much as I know the changes are as inevitable as my pride in seeing him grow, I pray that some things last forever:

I pray that his joyous nature will not change. I pray he will always be kind and mindful of others. I pray that he makes fast friends who are true and good, and have his best interests at heart. I pray that he has an adventurous spirit but stays cautious. I pray that we remain close. I pray he isn’t afraid to talk to me about anything, ever. I pray that he marries a partner worthy of him, that he is happy in his work, that he is confident and brave and unafraid to love.

I pray that in the years before he becomes an adult, his days are filled with fun and laughter and that his childhood is a memorable one for only good reasons.

I pray we can keep up with all of his constant changes.

I love who my kid is today. And I can’t wait to see who he is tomorrow.

06 Jun 2013

Lice Mother, Lice Son.

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Last week was one of the most exhausting weeks of my lice. I mean life. It’s not that I don’t lice doing laundry, I mean LIKE doing laundry. It’s just that I don’t like doing 45 loads in four days. Luckily, there was a lice, I mean LIGHT at the end of the tunnel, but it seemed very far away. And I still haven’t totally recovered. It wasn’t just the laundry. It was the vacuuming, wiping down, scrubbing, and cleaning things that didn’t even need to be cleaned. There’s a fine lice between cleaning and cleaning OBSESSIVELY. And itching non-stop. I mean line. There’s a fine line.

Yes, our family was struck. This was the third time this year the little buggers came to visit our school. And, since we completely missed it the other two times, I was confident we would msis it again. We didn’t. WE didn’t. Did you get that part? WE. G and I. Me and G.

Luckily, we got to it early. It started Tuesday morning. Russ had taken G to school and I had just gotten on my “walking Bogie” clothes when the phone rang. Russ gave the phone to G who sweetly said he was coming home because he had lice. They arrived home moments later and then it began. I called the Lice Lady, (Yes, there’s a Lice Lady), got on line to do research, and started my day. Lice Lady arrived about 90 minutes later and combed through G’s hair for an hour. Then I insisted she comb through mine. I had it. Barely. But that’s like being a little pregnant.

When she left, I went into action. I stripped the beds, took the blankets off the couches, and put all of G’s stuffed animals in garbage bags, tied them tight and put them into the garage.  I put every article of clothing we could have possibly worn in the last several days into the laundry baskets and left them all outside. I vacuumed the 2 carpeted rooms and the rug in the living room. I vacuumed the matresses, I wiped down the couches, I soaked my brushes in alcohol, poured boiling water over them, and put them in the freezer to sit for 72 hours. Then I started doing laundry. I did laundry until 11:00 PM that night. I promise I’ve done at least (and I think I’m being very conservative here) 60 loads of laundry in 10 days.

We took G to get his hair buzzed that day. I bought a lice comb, lice prevention spray, and tons of treats for G being so patient and good.  We went to the laundromat to get eight loads done at once, just to shave off some hours of washing. That night I sobbed from exhaustion and stress. But at least I waited until G went to sleep!

Since then, several other kids have been sent home. It’s been like a revolving door of lice at our school. I check G’s head every morning, wash his hair with Tea Tree Oil shampoo nightly, and put the lice prevention spray on him daily. I also put it on myself and try to convince myself that tea tree oil, mint, and rosemary is a sexy scent on me. I use the lice comb on myself every other night, just to be sure I’m okay. I even went to a lice-specialty salon Monday night to have myself checked again. I was asking the owner a ton of questions and she literally told me I needed to chill out. She said, “You’ve done everything right. Neither of you have it anymore. You’re done. Chill out.” I asked if I should buy the carpet spray from her and she said, “Stop. You’re okay now.” I told her I was sure crazier people than me had been in there. She said yes, but I’m not sure she meant it.

I can’t stop cleaning or doing laundry. I can’t stop vacuuming. I can’t stop checking for lice. Yesterday I had the lice salon people come to our school. They combed through everyone whose parents were willing to pay. One more person got sent for treatment. I think we might have conquered everyone now.

So there you go. You’re probably itching by now. That’s what happens. I just wanted to share my experience with you so that you know what to expect if you get it. And I was also hoping to kind of make the whole stigma disappear. It’s not a disease. It doesn’t happen to dirty people. It’s not shameful. Kids get it all the time, and pass it on and bring it home. I hope we never have to deal with it again and I hope you don’t have to either. But mostly us.

At least my house is clean! Really, really clean. And that’s lice. I mean nice.