Yesterday, was Labor Day. The day that honors the American labor movement. The worker. The people that continue to build this country every day.
It’s a glorious 3 day weekend. People look forward to it, because it shortens the work week, gives them a paid holiday, one last bash before the school year fully kicks in.
In our home, we started it like many others. Breakfast. The kids read. Got dressed and went down the block to see their neighbor kid friends.
My wife took Finn swimming.
I, myself, put on some music, and was going to separate all of the wood I have accumulated on the side of my house, and put them in bins so that when I get an order to build something, I could easily find what I’m looking for and build it quicker. Like. It was a perfect morning, for 7:45 am.
15 minutes into our Labor Day journey. At precisely 8:14 am pacific time, I got a text from our oldest daughter, and I quote:
We’re coming home. I think Nora has lice.
Me to my wife who was less than 10 yards away: I think this Fucking day is ruined.
I told her what the text said. She got out of the pool, and instead of letting the girls walk home, we met them halfway.
Record scratch. Freeze frame.
You’re probably wondering how we got here. You see when another kid has lice, and they (the parents) fail to notice the symptoms, Well it spreads.
Natasha looks through her hair, yep. Lice.
Sadly, it wasn’t our first rodeo. It was our second. 2016. April. We were pulling the kids out of daycare because it was costly. I was gonna stay home with them. That Friday was going to be their last day. That day when picking them up, the daycare had posted a notice that lice was going around.
That. Same. Day.
And they got it. All 3 girls. That was our first foray into licetown.
This time, it was made more difficult by the fact that we have Finn. He’s a very active baby. Always into stuff. I love him to death but
So. It started. Natasha went to work on heads, Jordan came up to watch Finn. I went room to room with a vacuum, baskets to strip their room, 91% isopropyl alcohol to spray/kill any remaining lice clusters, and to just sanitize the areas.
The girls had to sit in the kitchen on the floor, while waiting their turn, and I cleaned rooms.
Two bedrooms, a playroom, our couches. Our bedroom.
This was our laundry room. You can not see it, but it stretches around the right corner and well into the bathroom there.
This started at 8:31. We finally finished checking heads, shampooing, showers, checking again, cleaning, cleaning more, around 2:30.
We were able to rest. No problems. We ate dinner and I took off to coach flag football. Then. Natasha texted me that Finn had them as well.
Like we checked him, but he’s also squirmy and he’s on don’t touch me mood all the time. Life of a toddler.
This was 7pm. So it was another round of lice treatment. And baths.
Final count: 2 of 5 children had lice. Zero adults.
Sadly, had it been this coming weekend when I’m mostly alone with them, well we would’ve had some bald kids walking around.
I proclaim that:
As of 8:33am on September the 3rd of the year 2018, the kids from down the street are on my Grudge list. Parents, too. They are not allowed down to our house. In our house. The sidewalk in front of our house. Don’t even breathe in the direction of our house. Not allowed here until I can be assured that they have been treated, their house has been blow torched and their kids have been bathed 73 times, each.
This was the Labor Day from hell. Sad thing is, still not even close to finishing our laundry. I’ll be folding clothes to Easter. Maybe I’ll just ball it all up, and shove it in the back of their closets like I do with fitted sheets.