When lice invade your home, and head
It’s 10 p.m. and I’m crying in the bathroom with greasy hair hanging over my eyes, madly combing over and over like a modern-day Lady Macbeth in leggings and an old T-shirt.
I have head lice. I’m freaking out.
My husband combed me out earlier after I applied the treatment, but now he’s at work and the kids are finally asleep and it’s just me, swiping at tears with my greasy fingertips and fumbling with the comb I can’t seem to put down.
Because you can’t call the neighbours over to help with something as horrifying as delousing. It’s gross and contagious and I guess this is who I am now — disgusting and greasy-headed, with a scarlet L (or is it a white one?) on my chest.
Continue reading in my weekly parenting column, The Mom Scene …
As featured on …
Heather's Handmade Life 