So – yesterday we went to my beautiful, no-dramas, no-agenda, just lovely in-laws to celebrate my MIL’s impending birthday – which is today! (Happy Birthday LynniePins although I’m not sure she reads this anymore after the posting about her hamburgers incident of 2006). I had a good chat with my BIL who has perspective on parent relationships too and felt the better for it.
A few weeks ago Jasper was itching his head and I was fairly certain (ie positive) I discovered some lice eggs. I jumped into action with the procedure outlined to me by me awesome hairdresser/friend T and thought no more about it. Until a week later when he was scratching again and found more eggs and – sigh – a louse. My god those things are VILE.
Total aside, did you know that lice are an arachnid? True.
SO – again I did the procedure and
forced myself to ignore it forgot about it once more.
Until yesterday. When he came and sat on my lap and like
that chimp I watched do a poo in its hand and then eat it at the zoo that time just after checking its kid’s hair for nits and other tasty parasites one of Pavlov’s dogs I started looking through his hair.
Of course, my beautiful SIL – who used to run a childcare centre and had a whole episode with nits where she simply could not get rid of them and was contemplating going all Sinead on her scalp – recoiled in horror. And fell down dead on sighting Felix and her son, my nephew, sitting head to head playing some killing/shooting/mind-killing/future-generation-dumbing-down game on his Christmas present iPod Touch which made him CRY with joy on Christmas morning (bless ‘im).
By now there was much mirth about how the last time we were all together we exposed everyone to whooping cough and so it only seemed fitting that we yet again share the love with another hideous ailment that requires making.your.children.cry.
Seriously, we’re like the relatives from the boondocks you wish you could put through a sheep-dip before seeing.
I checked Grover – yep, eggs.
I checked Felix (who I’d only checked a few days prior) – yep, eggs.
I would have checked Oscar but he is still traumatised from the last nit episode and is only just letting me touch his head again let alone LOOK at it at the same time.
So, home we all went. About two hours later and many tears and much cajoling and even more ‘EUGH I found a louse! There’s another one! OH MY GOD look at the eggs from that section’ my boys smell really really nice and have shiny fluffy hair.
Aren’t you glad you came to visit?
Getting the iPod has totally shifted Felix out of the fug he was in for the last oh, THREE months, that he has been in. I know these fugs well – nothing really wrong but nothing really right either. He’s a tricky one my Felix – so wise and mature beyond his 10 years and yet, still 10.
In my hideous state of mind the other day I started to take ornaments off the Christmas tree. There were instantaneous tears from Grovey and Jasper so I stopped (feeling even worse of course).
But today! Now! They are at the movies with mum (who is choosing to believe my meltdown the other day was ALL about the boys and NOTHING about that OTHER THING that shall not be mentioned. Healthy.) so that mother fucker is coming down so this living room can return to some semblance of its normal cramped chaos. As opposed to the HOLY SHIT if this chair stays sitting here for one minute longer I’m going to burst a blood vessel.
HAHA victory is all mine!
In other news, the Brick With Wheels needs new wheels. Well, the tyres that go on those wheels. I can not complain as the tyres that are on there have lasted more than 65,000kms and apparently, according to the people in my life who know about such things, that is REMARKABLE! CELBRATORY even! (Seriously, the way my father and uncle get excited over such things is absolutely beyond me.)
So, cue phone calls to various tyre retailers with my authoritative voice on asking for prices and whatnot (yeah, I don’t know what the whatnot is either but it sounds good).
HOLY CRAP people do you know how freakin’ expensive those bits of rubber are???
I mean sure, it’s all about being able to drive your vehicle and a key safety component for ferrying around your
screaming brats precious cargo but FAR OUT BRUSSEL SPROUT we’re talking MORE THAN A GRAND. VOMIT.
I’ve procrastinated long enough now. I’m off for a run.