Yesterday I felt lousy

1. Infested with lice.
2. Slang
a. mean or contemptible: That was a lousy thing to do.
b. wretchedly bad, miserable: a lousy job; I feel lousy.

As fond as I am of the word wretched, and thus find myself drooling over the word wretchedly - the title of this post is not referring to definition 2b above. It is, alas, a reference to the primary and origin of word definition, numero uno up top.

What's worse is this is not my first encounter with head critters in the past 6 months; this was round two. What's even worse is both times I have gotten them from Mila. My 19 month old baby has given me headlice twice. Repeat: my baby twice had lice this year. I just sighed and slumped as I wrote that sentence, definitely a sense of embarrassment - so of course I thought I'd share with you all.

At this moment I find myself desperately wanting to be like most that use these venues to post about their whereabouts, how much they love! everything!, pictures of what they are presently eating, or to peddle their wares. Instead I bring you my story of head bugs. I am a good mom. To combat the initial shame, these past few days have been a Stewart Smalley exercise in, "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough..."

I'm clean, my kid is clean, my house is not filthy (I don't want to lie, it would depend on your definition of clean), I have a good job, I'm a smart cookie, and I'm kinda good lookin. Ok, that last descriptor has nothing to do with this issue at hand, but let me have it. Point being, I don't know how this whole lice situation has happened, twice. "These things" generally happen to "those people," if you know what I mean. (Seriously, if you know what I mean, please tell me, because I don't know, it's just how I irrationally have felt). I also have the WORLDS BEST CHILDCARE PROVIDER, and she will soon have the mug and/or t-shirt to prove it. She mirrors all of the awing qualities I mentioned about myself above plus her house is actually legitimately clean. Yet still, here I sit, with a greasy head from oil treatments and the lingering aftertastes of guilt and humiliation.

The blame game began with a detailed account of people and places Mila has encountered in the past seven days; hell, I've even blamed it on the entire Northeast region because "this would never have happened in Texas."

The point of this post isn't about where it came from, it's about what I've learned, and perhaps a different perspective you can try to see next time you get a call from a mom that sounds like this: "Um, hi, this is Marcia, and I know Mila was around your child within the past week, I just wanted to let you know that she was recently treated for headlice. You need to check your son/daughter." Jesus, she isn't even two years old and I'm making phone calls that carry all of the stigma of gonorrhea. And if you're reading this post, you've probably seen how cute she is - Mila is no poster child for headlice or gonorrhea.

I've got a place, and it's got product that doesn't involve pesticides, that can resolve these types of situations within hours (for an astronomical fee). If you ever have a similar problem, please contact me and I'll fill you in on details. Don't judge me on this post, or do - in all fairness I've already judged you (what kind of person reads this s*^t blog anyway?)