Paint, Part II or The School Nurse Calls Again

So we took the dented can of paint in and commenced to painting the Potty/Shower/Tub room. Mom wants the tall ladder. The eight foot industrial size ladder. So we have to maneuver it down the hall, into the first part of the bathroom, then try to turn it, duck under the next doorway, up and over. We put part of it in the tub, part of it in the three foot space that remains. She starts to cut in because our (her) original idea is to paint the ceiling white and stripe the bathroom incorporating some of the old color. But I chose rough texture and had the painters paint the ceilings the same color as the walls, which made it a no-go for cutting in with a brush. So the backup plan is to just paint the entire room and we'll think about stripes latter. Up the ladder for cut in, down the ladder to move it. Wrangle the ladder in the five foot square space. Up the ladder, hang over backward because you're too close to the ceiling at the wrong angle. Trade. Up the ladder with the roller. Down the ladder to get more paint. On and on etc.

Although I have been working out with Bob Harper of the Biggest Loser, Bob has not prepared me for painting. We finish up the first coat of paint around the time the kids roll up on the bus. (Have I sung you the praises of The Bus?) Mom is completely wiped out, she likes to start her projects when the sun breaks and end around noon. Then the afternoon kid shift begins and we have aspirin for dinner.

The next day get the kids off to school and start second coating the Tub room. Fairly quickly we then move on to the sink area. Much easier square room, with the expanse of the counter to stand on which makes it easier for two people to work at the same time. We get the room done with it's first coat and take a break around 10:30 or 11:00. Just as we settle in to our chairs, my phone rings. It's John. He forgot to have me sign his exemption form for finals, which are Thursday and Friday, and it has to be turned in today, could I please come to the office and sign it for him? Sure, not a problem we're on break. So Mom and I hop in the car, run to the high school and sign his paper. We take this opportunity to run by her house to pick up some wire to hang a mirror with and head back to my house. We determine that the paint is dry enough to start the second coat. We get done around one o'clock and as I'm cleaning up and Mom's putting on the final touches, my phone rings. It's the school nurse from the elementary. "Mrs.? One of the children in Peach's class's Mom called to let us know that they have lice. We did a check of all the kids in the class and three of them have lice. Peach has eggs, but no bugs."

And the hits just keep on coming. I say "Could you please check Ace for me before I have to run to Walmart for shampoo and new pillows?" She was kind enough to overlook my previous bad attitude and called me back to let me know Ace was clear. So after I stripped her bed and started scalding everything I could get my hands on, I threw on my glasses-fake nose-and mustache disguise and head over to the Walmart for lice shampoo. Got home put the scalded sheets in the dryer and start scalding the comforter, spray her bed. And that's when the scope of this job hits me. This isn't like the time I joined that gym when John was a baby and after one day in the daycare he got lice. He had hardly any hair, he slept in his little crib, sheets some clothes, bing-bang-boom. No. She's eight. She has two drawers full of hair accessories, one hundred and thirty stuffed animals which rotate in and out of her bed on a constant basis. It's winter and we've kept it so cold that everyone is walking around with a fleece throw at all times, all of which are the same color. AND I CAN'T QUIT ITCHING!!! They hop off the bus as I'm putting things in the washer, so I bring her immediately in and wash her hair with the medicine. When we're all done I sit her down and start to comb through her hair with the nit comb. I get all the way through her hair and have yet to find one. John's morbid curiosity gets the better of him and he picks up a comb and starts searching, "Here's one. Oh, here's one. Here's another one."
I can't see any of them, it's like he's puttin' one over on me.
"Where?"
"Right here. See."
"NO."
"Right here."
"I don't see anything."
"Mom, go get your reading glasses."
Her hair is so fine, that the nit comb doesn't work, we have to spot them then use our fingernails to pull them off the hair.

Grossed out yet? Don't itch your head. I double dog dare you.

So we stood like monkeys going through her head for the better part of an hour. And I say "Now Peach, tomorrow when you go to school, I don't want you talking to the other kids about lice okay?" "Why." "It's just not a good idea." "Well what if somebody else says they have lice, can I tell them?" "Well, I'd rather you wouldn't." "Why?" "Because when Mommy's find out about lice it makes us nervous." "But if somebody asks me if I have it, I'll just say that I didn't have any bugs, I just have eggs." "Oooo, I wish you wouldn't." "Why?" "I just don't want you to talk about it okay?" "But what if somebody else is talking about it?" "Just don't okay?" "Why?" "Cause I said so, K?" "But why?" Of course I haven't started dinner. I was planning to have the spaghetti sauce all done and in the crock pot so that all I had to do was the noodles, but that plan fell in the toilet somewhere around 10:30. I throw everything I can think of that might have touched her head and is not washable, into plastic bags and hide them in the closet for the next month. Then I head to the kitchen and start dinner, I pass Mom in the hall and say, "If I don't get to sit down soon, I'm gonna start crying." We eat dinner, I put Peaches bed back together then beg John to look through my hair because I CAN FEEL THEM CRAWLING ALL OVER THE PLACE I'M INFESTED!!!! "No, Mom. I'm SURE. You just need to use my Head and Shoulders, you've got some dandruff." "But it HAS to be bugs, I CAN FEEL THEM CRAWLING!" "Chill Mom. I promise there's no bugs."

The next day when Peach got home I asked, "So did you say anything about lice at school today." and she gave me this huge grin that said "Silly Mommy, of course I talked about lice today. Did you really think that I could go to school and NOT talk about lice?" A grin that said, "I did. But you can't blame me right?" "Oh P. Who did you talk to?" She discussed it with at least two boys that I know of, one of which she swears said he had lice first. *sigh*



It's a week later and no amount of Head and Shoulders and Lice shampoo can make me stop itching. Yesterday Mom and I striped the bathroom and she is in there right now, touching up all the places where the paint bled through under the tape. I'd show you a picture, but my USB port... yeah.