Freakin' Lice. Twice.

Summer is finally here!  Alleluia!  I feel like I've been waiting for summer to come all school year long.  By the end I was done.  Spent.  Finished.  If you haven't read Jen Hatmaker's blog entry calling herself "The Worst End of School Year Mom Ever," read it now.  And don't be upset if seventeen people haven't forwarded this to you already.  Your friends must think really highly of you.  Myself, well, let's just say lots of people thought I'd enjoy this.  Pretty sure I shouldn't take that as a compliment.

http://jenhatmaker.com/blog/2013/05/30/worst-end-of-school-year-mom-ever

It is hilarious, timely and so on point.  With the exception of one person (who is clearly organized and energetic), every single person I talked to said, "Oh my God!  That is so me!  I could have written that!"  Yeah, no you couldn't.  You didn't have the energy to write it.  I honestly don't know when Jen mustered up the strength to sit at her computer for that long, attach video and pictures, and write thoughtfully and with that much humor.  I'm pretty sure my sense of humor dropped off somewhere in April.  And I couldn't even gather the strength for Pinterest much less writing something with which thousands of people could relate.  So, yeah, I'm with ya, Jen.  I don't know you at all, but we are sisters in this whole parenting adventure!  And thank you for speaking for all of us who were only capable of head nods and drool in May.

Which leads me to summer.  There was a lot leading up to summer.  Class parties.  Dance recitals.  PTA meetings.  Parent Board meetings.  Dance recitals.  Plays.  Performances.  A parade.  Dance recitals.  Special lunches.  Girl Scout events.  Team parties.  And did I mention the dance recitals?  Keep in mind that they also come with dress rehearsals.  Between the two girls, I spent three plus hours in dress rehearsal and I think seven (or eight?  it's a blur) hours in recitals. I'm sure you've figured out that I wasn't the one dancing, but let me tell you, I was exhausted.  I was literally sore from sitting so much!  Is that even possible?  The dance recitals almost did me in.  Smart people at the dance studio take a huge break before starting up again for the summer.  Brilliant.  It should be enough time for me to forget the pain.

OK, so it's now summer.  All that crap is over for the year, we've started off strong with swimming at friends' houses, having friends over for dinner, sleeping in, watching boatloads of TV and just generally being blobs.  (The kids needed to up their ante on the drool factor.  While I was plenty braindead by the end of the year, they were still kicking.)  So on the night of day four, (DAY FOUR!!!) Zachary complained about being itchy.  Want to know my response?  Yeah, you guessed it:  NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!  Sure enough, the boy had lice.  Oh.  My.  God.  This is how I get to start my summer?  Are you freakin' kidding me!?

I need to back up.  Over spring break this year, while in Northern California, after having stayed in other people's homes and visiting NINE other families, we discovered we had lice.  When we made the discovery, we were an hour away from our friends' house, where we were staying.  The lovely people at LoveBugs took pity on us, cleaned us up and sent us on our way.  (That sounds simple, but it was about three hours for two people to comb our four heads and hundreds of dollars.)  Meanwhile I was texting, calling and voxing everyone I knew to tell them to be on the lookout.  If you've ever had to make the call after the birthday party to tell everyone your kid threw up that night, has a fever, has pink eye, whatever it is, you get the feeling.  I've made all those calls.  For some reason this one is SO much worse!  Mostly because lice is a major pain in the ass.  You can take care of it yourself, but you probably won't do a very good job, so it will take a long time to get rid of it, and meanwhile you're risking exposure to everyone else around you.  Or you can pay God-sent people who will come to your house and comb you out.  Obviously this is a great option, but it's expensive!  And the vacuuming.  And the laundry.  And the laundry!  Loads and loads and loads of laundry.  My poor washing machine won't even make eye contact with me anymore.  It just groans, opens up and accepts the inevitable.  Like a baby eating squash.  Or me eating squash.  Blech.

Fortunately the day in Northern California when we discovered lice I had spent the day with three beautiful women (and their children) from my childhood.  I'd warned them ahead of time that Zachary suspected he had lice because he'd become paranoid during the car ride down.  (Mind you, I'd checked him before we left the house, found a nit - which I didn't know was a nit because it didn't look like the pictures I saw on the internet - dismissed it  and got in the car to go meet our friends.)  We had a great day, laughed and laughed and miraculously didn't share our bugs!  One of my friends had just finished up chemotherapy for lymphoma, which was found on a routine ultrasound when she was four months pregnant.  (Yes, you read that correctly.  Read it again if you need to.)  And here she was, at the park, with her two gorgeous daughters, the baby having literally saved her life, beautiful and happy and strong.  (This friend is one of the most incredible people I've ever met and if she doesn't become an inspirational speaker or write a book or somehow share herself with the world after all this is over, I will have to drag her around myself.  The way in which she has dealt with cancer, while pregnant and caring for a toddler, is unbelievable.  She has an incredible spirit, positivity, faith and has maintained the same sense of humor that cracked us up as seventh graders!  And now has no evidence of disease!  She really is a walking miracle.)

I send a text to the friends I saw that day, my head in a shower cap, neem oil stinking up the joint, and right away, this friend calls me.  "Lice sucks, " she said.  And you know what, it totally does.  But to hear that from my friend who had just gone through chemotherapy not only validated what I was going through, but also put things into perspective.  We joked about how much quicker it would be to get rid of the lice than cancer and how, comparatively speaking, LoveBugs was a huge bargain compared to the price of chemo.  We were also pretty sure that she wouldn't get lice seeing as she was sporting what she called "the Matt Lauer look."  She was just the person I needed to talk to that day, to talk me down off the ledge, to keep me from feeling too sorry for myself.

In the days since then, I have not stopped itching my head, constantly afraid of the lice coming back.  (Paranoia runs in the family.)  And of course it did.  Clearly someone in Zachary's world has it, as it is very definitely a new case of bugs.  It sucked to have to make those calls.  Again.  It was a bummer of a way to start the summer for sure, but not the end of the world.  I'm always trying to find the reason for things, the "why?" in God's greater plan.  I have to be honest, I'm still searching.  But I have made an amazing connection down here now with Angel from Lice Schmice.  Her website is http://www.liceschmice.net.  And, yes, I am plugging my lice lady!  She is truly an angel!  If you're in Southern California and you suspect those little buggers are in your home, then Angel's your girl.

So maybe the reason is to keep me humble.  Maybe it's a lesson in forgiveness and learning to not place blame.  (I have no idea where the lice is coming from and this is hard for me -- not in that I want to place blame, but in that I want some answers and I want to know that this won't come back into our house.)  Maybe it's a lesson in appreciating every day life, and appreciating the fact that I have my own washing machine and dryer and that I can (sort of) afford to have someone come to my house to deal with this for me.  Maybe it's just a lesson in lice removal.  (I've learned a lot this year!)  Whatever it is, I'm paying attention.  Summer 2013 has now officially begun.  Instead of spending our days doing nothing other than laundry and vacuuming, we are Legoing, playing board games, scootering, reading, swimming.  And gearing up for dancing to start again.

One of Those Days

Do you ever have one of those days? I swear, yesterday was one of those days that if I were a single mom, I swear I would have hanged myself. It was a tough day, but I've had tougher. But for some reason yesterday, I just couldn't take it anymore. I went to bad angry and woke up this morning angry, too. What right do I have to be angry? Look at my life! It's pretty damn good. But some days URRRFFF!! I just want to scream!!

To start, Annalise had been sick all week. And when one of them is stuck inside all week, that means all of them are stuck inside all week. Correction, all of US are stuck inside all week. And a four year old boy stuck inside all week is not good. So Zachary had TWO temper tantrums yesterday. TWO! And major ones too. So much so that the child has lost his voice today. He has no voice. That's how much screaming was happening in our house yesterday. And Juliette, bless her, is systematically emptying out every single cabinet in the house. There is stuff EVERYWHERE!! I can't walk without tripping on something. I have Splenda packets in my bedroom and tampons in the living room. The granola bars are totally mashed and raisins are permanently imbedded in the carpet. And let's not even mention the cereal. The problem is, that I cannot get anything done unless she is occupied. And the only thing that seems to keep her occupied are Legos (which we try to avoid at all costs. I'm tired of fishing those out of her mouth.) and kitchen and bathroom cabinets. We've babylocked everything that is potentially dangerous to her, but that doesn't stop the mess. Why isn't that kid amused by baby toys? They're fun! They're bright! They're throwable! Totally uninterested. And then by the end of the evening I couldn't put her down without her crying. And since I already had to listen to Zachary crying, I just didn't want to listen to her, too. Remarkably the sick one held up the best.

I think the problem with yesterday wasn't just the temper tantrums and the stuff everywhere, it was my attitude toward it all. I've had a whole week with absolutely not a second to myself. (Well, that's not entirely true. I did have one afternoon where they all either rested or napped at the same time. But then I was writing thank you notes. I don't think that counts as alone time.) I think if I don't have any time to myself for a whole week then I go crazy. So, the lesson is... if I have a sick kid or another time like this when they are all here 24/7, I need to find some way to get some time to myself. A friend wrote me an email this morning talking me down off the fence and saying how we all have days like this. I know we do, but it was a great reminder. I really needed that. So if you are having a day like I had yesterday (or if in the future you do -- and you know you will), remember that I've been there, too. We all have. And a good night's sleep (if you can get it), two kids in school and one down for a nap makes the world a whole lot better. And if you don't have that break, then call me up. We'll commiserate and find a solution. Today, things are not that bad.

Ungrateful

Yesterday was one of those days that just grrrr!!!!! It was bad. I know I just wrote a post about keeping perspective, but sometimes you have to bitch a little bit, too. Anyway, we have ants, the water heater isn't heating water, we have tons of bills to pay and not tons of money with which to pay them. I had a million things to do AND my mom (babysitter/lifesaver/person I complain to) left today for three weeks. Anyway, it started off as one of those days. And I was wearing my sweatpants, which actually are Jenn's hand-me-down yoga pants from when she was pregnant and just post-pregnant. And for those of you who saw me every day last year, you know I wore them every other day last year. Now a few more things actually fit in my wardrobe, so I am trying to disguise myself as an adult. Today I am actually wearing a skirt (a nice one that has to be ironed). But yesterday it was sweats and you know how that doesn't really help the whole attitude. So I was already on the edge.

So after we ran a bunch of errands that required Zachary and Juliette to be in the car for almost two hours, we had to pick Annalise up from school, zip over to South Pasadena to buy Annalise both new ballet and tap shoes and then get back to La Canada in time for her dance lesson. (Basically this meant almost another hour in the car for the little ones who, miraculously, weren't complaining at all.) We were half way to the shoe store when I told Annalise that we probably would not have enough time to go home and change before class, so she would just have to wear her dress and leggings that she wore to school. She proceeded to have an enormous fit (with tears) and would not let it go. So of course, I overreacted as well, turned the car around, yelled about how ungrateful she was, drove home, screamed at her to change her clothes, changed Juliette's diaper, threw everyone back in the car, yelled some more, got the shoes (Thankfully I had my checkbook since in all the yelling I had left my wallet at home.), and took her to dance class fifteen minutes late.

I was so upset I didn't know what to do. Jason said he was surprised I had taken her to the class at all and that I had bought the shoes, too. Truthfully, I wouldn't have done either except that I had already paid for the class AND given away her too small shoes.

Sometimes I get so frustrated with my children. I feel like I've done a good job at teaching them to be grateful for what they have. And then they turn around and have this real sense of entitlement. Where does that come from? Do I give them too much? Do I need to start cutting back on things? I really don't feel like I have spoiled them, but maybe I'm just naive. Maybe I have. Is it just an age thing? Are all seven year olds self centered? Do they all really only care about themselves? Annalise has always done a great job of showing empathy. When someone is hurt, she's great at taking care of them. When they're feelings are hurt, she will be the one who plays with them. But she didn't seem to show any care at all that her brother and sister were being carted all around town. She wanted her shoes. She wanted her ballet outfit and she didn't care who had to suffer in the meantime. I don't know what to do to teach them better that they can't always have everything they want and they can't always have things when they want them. I hope these lessons will come with age. I didn't handle the situation well yesterday, but I hope I don't have to handle the same kind of situation too much in the future either. Maybe next time I'll have a cooler head. Maybe nest time the kids will be a little more grateful. We'll see.

Perspective

One of the things that I struggle with as a mother and as a person in general is keeping things in perspective. I really need to make a conscious effort to take a step back and be grateful for what I have. Somehow, like many of us, this concept does not always come naturally to me. You would think that with all that has happened this past year with the economy, I would have more perspective on our personal finance situation. Yes, our mortgage is outrageous and we struggle to make ends meet. But we live in a great house with some of the best schools in the state. And my husband still has a job. I am SO grateful for that. You would think that with the horrible car crash that happened in our town this past year, I would be more conscious every time I got in the car. You'd think I would slow down; chill out; be a few minutes late. What's really THAT important that five minutes late is worth getting into a car accident? You would think that with the horrible fires that ripped through our mountains and STILL are not fully contained that I would be more grateful for our house still being here. Never mind the stained carpeting and the peeling wallpaper. Never mind that weird bump that has popped up on our kitchen floor (what IS that?). Never mind the often-failing water heater. You would think that the fact that I have three healthy and thriving kids would be enough. Yes, they sometimes yell or sass or refuse to follow directions. They sometimes fight with one another and drive me up a wall. But they also give great hugs and kisses, tell incredible stories and make us constantly laugh.

Yesterday I was having one of those days. You know the days I'm talking about. Nobody slept that well. I've overextended myself with the volunteer stuff and it seemed like everything had to be done by yesterday. I was annoyed with the people who don't volunteer at all and then ask for accommodations for their schedules and their lives, forgetting that we are not their employees and don't need to volunteer to help out their children. We do it anyway. My kids were grouchy; my husband was grouchy; I was grouchy. Yesterday morning, late as usual, I turned onto the main street off our little lane behind a driver with a "Drive 25" bumper sticker. "Please do," I thought. "You're only going 19!" Annoyed, I followed him all the way onto the freeway, where he proceeded to drive a speedy 45. Getting off at the next offramp, coming down the crest, out of the mountains, were five fire trucks. All five were from towns I had never heard of, far away from our little town. All five were packed full of weary firefighters, dusty and dirty. All five were full of men who had helped to save our town.

I took a deep breath, waved a wave of gratitude and slowly turned into the intersection. Perspective, Christa, perspective.

Carpet Stalkers

I think I have a stalker. Someone is peering in my windows when I am unaware of it. I must get three calls a day from someone (different someones, too!) who wants to clean my carpets. How do they know my carpets are stained and gross? How do they know that I have a seven month old who crawls and rolls all over that carpet? Do they watch my kids paint and play in the mud and then come inside to use the bathroom, dragging in God only knows what on their feet? Have they noticed that Zachary doesn't always make it to said bathroom? Have they watched Annalise eating cornbread/tacos/spaghetti? (Yes, there is even carpet under the dining room table.) Do they watch Juliette spit up all day long? Has someone filled them in? Maybe my mother and mother-in-law have joined forces with the carpet cleaning people to conspire to get me to clean. Maybe they think that if I get at least three calls a day, it will somehow subliminally give me the message that I am a slob. For the carpet stalkers out there, I am aware that my carpets are filthy. I am aware that Juliette's clothes would be cleaner if my carpets were cleaner, too. I promise when she stops spitting up I will spring for a carpet cleaning. I promise. And when I win the big bucks... hard wood floors, baby!

"The Most Wonderful Time of the Year"

Do you remember that song from the Staples ad? It's really a Christmas song, but in the ad, they are playing that song as the dad is gleefully throwing pencils and other school supplies into the cart, gliding through the store, as the kids sulk behind him. I never really got that ad. As a kid, I certainly didn't look forward to the first day of school. As a teacher, I REALLY didn't look forward to the first day of school. And as a parent, I don't think I really ever have either. (Maybe I've just forgotten???) In the beginning of August, I was so sad that school was less than a month away. We have had such a great summer. The kids were playing great together! They were thriving on the lack of schedule! We were seeing friends! We were going swimming! We were being creative! We were using our imaginations! We were playing outside and in! We were going on field trips! I could see why people would homeschool! (Seriously, this thought actually entered my mind. Our summer was that good. I must have been smoking some major summer crack.)

And then mid-August came around. I don't know what happened. Nothing has changed. We are still seeing friends, going swimming, using our imaginations, etc. etc. But there is a mini revolt going on in our house right now. Attitudes are changing. Noise levels are changing. Tempers are changing. "It's not fairs!" and "She did it on purposes!" have increased tenfold. I don't know the scientific term for what's going on, but I think it can only be described as we are getting sick of each other. There is a reason for school. There is a reason summer is only so long. (Incidentally, it is the same reason why babies are so cute and have that whole baby smell thing going on.) Otherwise, someone would have to die. I'm not saying who. I'm just saying that families would kill each other when they have too much togetherness. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids and they genuinely love one another. But they're bored of each other. They're bored of me. It's time to go back to school. I know I will miss them while they are there. I know I will have a HUGE adjustment to Annalise being gone ALL DAY!! But I know it's best for them and it's best for me. School starts in a week and a half. I'm ready. Let's go buy some school supplies.

Grrrr

I try to be a proactive parent. I like to anticipate the times when behavior won't be at its best and make a plan. I try to give lots of positive reinforcement when I can, use a calm voice, dispense lots of affection. Notice I said "try". There are days (lots of them) when the calm voice and anything positive goes right out the window. Lots of days I feel like I'm just trying to keep my head above water. Today was one of those days. (And it's only 4:00!) It was one of those days where I feel like I'm just spinning my wheels -- unload the dishwasher so that I can load it again; strip the sheets so I can make the bed again; clean up the toys so we can scatter them across the room again. And let's not even mention the yelling, hitting each other on the head, tormenting babies, etc. As Alexander says, "Some days are like that. Even in Australia."

We started off the day with our first attempt at volunteering. My mom has been involved with a group for thirty years or so that makes lunches for those in need. My younger brother used to go with her every week, starting when he was three years old. My older brother and I would go to help when we were on vacation from school. It was a simple, easy activity, but one that is very fulfilling as well. I've been wanting to do some volunteering with Annalise, in particular, for a while, but with all three kids, it's tricky. I needed to find something that we can all do together. So today, we gave it a shot. My mom arranged for us to do the sweets for the bagged lunches to be made tomorrow. (The group meets earlier than they used to and the idea of all of us in the kitchen was less than desirable.) All we had to do was bag cookies and treats in plastic sandwich bags. Annalise was a machine. She loved it and did a great job. Zachary bitched and complained the whole time. "I'm tired. I want some water." (We were there all of 45 minutes.) Meanwhile he kept explaining to his sister why she couldn't have a cookie. "These are for people who don't have any food. You have food. These aren't for you." And then jumped at the chance to have half a cookie himself. (At least he got the concept.) Juliette sat in her Baby Bjorn, kicking her little legs and making pterodactyl noises. So it wasn't a huge success, but we got the job done and both kids said they wanted to do it again next week.

The rest of the morning consisted of hitting each other on the head, screaming at each other, some slammed doors, waking up a napping baby, some threats, a screaming mommy and two kids being sent to their rooms. Some days that is the only way to get things back on track. Tomorrow I'll try again with the calm voice and positive reinforcement.

Unsupervised

Zachary and Annalise have started taking swim lessons at our local YMCA. We have a three month membership there (purchased at the silent auction at Annalise's school) and are sort of trying it all out. I've had kind of mixed thoughts on the whole thing, but after today, I'm really not so sure.

Zachary's swim lesson goes from 9:35 until 10:05. To get him there, we have to park down the block, load up Juliette in the baby bjorn, go through the turnnstyles, go in through the girls' locker room (I won't bother to explain the very complicated locker room rules), give him a shower, walk him out to the pool, walk out through the girls' locker room, through the turnstyles and around the corner to the observation room. Today their lessons were in the big pool because the training pool was too chilly. At five to 10, the other two parents (there were only three kids today) got up to go get their kids. Since I have to take two other kids with me and there isn't a lot of space to stay and wait, I decided to wait until 10 to make the trek back to the pool. But I saw his teacher giving the kids a high five indicating the end of the lesson, so I hightailed it back down the hall, through the turnstyles, back through the locker room to the pool. And there was Zachary, standing by himself with another woman leaning over him asking him his mommy's name. I came up as he was saying, "Christa." I looked at the clock and it was 10:01. His instructor was onto her next lesson (a private lesson with an adult). I often let things slide, but here is my kid crying because he's ALONE on a POOL DECK and his lesson isn't even over for another four minutes!

So I decided to say something. This is not easy for me! It is not my personality type to stick up for myself and his insructor is easily thirty years older than I am. But it's my kid, and I'm much tougher with them! So I waited for her to come back to the end of the pool and said, "I thought his lesson was over at 10:05?" She looked at the clock and gave me some bs about starting earlier and being in the different pool. I said, "Fine, but couldn't he have waited on the steps of the pool?" After some back and forth, she finally apologized and said it was her fault. It was. I had every right to be upset in this situation. But what if it had been "my fault" and I was late to pick up Zachary? (Every now and then people are late; especially when it takes half a day to get from the observation room out to the pool.) Does her responsibility for him end at 10:05? Is it then OK for her to leave a four year old unattended on a very busy pool deck with four locker rooms and hence four different ways to leave the pool area? A. You just don't leave a child unattended by a pool EVER. B. Some strange man could grab him (no one would even notice a crying child in all the chaos) and take him through the boys' locker room. By the time I got out to the pooldeck and noticed him gone, it would be too late. This is not an OK policy. My mom said I need to write a letter. I think she's right. It would be way too easy to lose a kid that way, and totally senseless. So far, I'm thinking we won't renew that membership.