Those Big Fat Lice

Warning: This post covers extremely delicate and sensitive information. It may trigger you to feel itchy.

Something really, really bad happened here recently. It was hard to know whether to write about it on my blog or not. When I found about it, I was so ashamed. I felt sick, embarrassed and well, itchy. Dealt with it as best I could.

But I'm ready to write about it now.

MY LITTLE GIRL HAD HEAD LICE.

Who, me?

We are not really lice family. But I noticed it first with the little girl furiously scratching her head one day. Continuously digging her head with her little fingers. Although she seemed not mindful of it, but I was almost sure of one filthy, vermin-ridden shocking truth: she got nits. So I checked her hair.

Positive.

And there was a very likely chance that all of us had headlice too. Except for Hubs who had recently dyed his hair. I remembered a rumor I'd once heard that hair dye kills headlice.

So what does a mother do?

Every night, while asleep I turn her to one side and begin to look for the eggs. The back of her neck was embedded with bites, which her long hair hid.

How utterly revolting are the eggs - and so tricky to miss. You can get every single egg but if you miss just one?

It's the one egg, to rule them all. And it hatches and you start all over again.

The next day I bought what is needed. A wire comb. Every night, combing and sifting Yana’s hair has become a routine.

Last night, like a serious hunter I searched for them with my flashlight. The bulb on the ceiling offered too little help. I wonder where to borrow head lamps next time.

Really why does headlice exist? Do they serve any purpose? No wonder Buddhist monks shave their heads ... they're never face with the moral choice of killing headlice.

Tell me you're jealous of my life.