Did I really open my mouth and say out loud, “What next?”
No. Surely I wouldn’t be so…careless. Stupid. Reckless.
Because when you say something like that out loud, you are inviting inevitable disaster.
You can think it all you want. But you keep it in your head. You never say it out loud.
When Michael is on-call and the phone hasn’t rung, we never ever say, “Wow! Call is pretty quiet!” – because as soon as those words are out into the open air, the phone will ring with a really messy, long, complicated surgical case.
You never say it out loud. I know that. I know that!
So why in the world would I say it out loud?!?
Hence, head lice.
Not that we’ve actually found any of the little suckers on any of our heads, but the very real possibility looms over us.
Not quite sure how we got here. It seems to be one thing after the other. But it hasn’t always been this way.
The kids celebrated their last day of school this week, which was so fun and bittersweet and exciting and sad. They both had such a fantastic year, amazing teachers, wonderful friends. We could not have asked for anything better. In their own unique ways, Meghan and Griffin could be considered “special needs” kids, and at any other school, I would have to fight and protest and conference endlessly to make sure that they get the education that they both need. Not the case here. Every teacher and staff member and administrator has bent over backwards to advocate for my kids and challenge them to fulfill the amazing potential that they both have within them. I have no doubt they are going to do incredible things, thanks in part to the teachers who recognize their uniqueness and cheer them on. These same teachers keep telling me, “I’m just doing my job,” but I’ve read enough to know that each one is going way, way beyond her job description.
After a really rough transition into pre-adolescence last year, Meghan settled into a group of friends this year who love her and accept her and know how to giggle their heads off with her. They call themselves “The Giggle Gang,” and I adore each one of them. All five of them, Meghan included, are smart and sweet and simply Good Girls.
It was a fantastic year.
So – despite all the craziness around our house for the past two months – we had a lot to celebrate. The Giggle Gang (minus one) descended upon our home for a night of girlish fun and frivolity. They played and laughed and danced around until the wee hours, then after a few hours of sleep, they played and laughed and danced around some more.
And Dry Wall Guy came at 8 a.m. following all the late-night frivolity to fix the big hole in our ceiling. On the first day of summer vacation. But it’s fixed. Thank you, Dry Wall Guy.
After everyone had gone home (hopefully for a nap), we were settling down and cleaning up when the phone rang. It was one of the Giggle Gang moms.
What next? I really said it. Out loud. I can’t believe I said it out loud. You never say it out loud.
I searched through my kids’ heads and found nothing but a little dandruff. Thank you, Jesus.
Nevertheless, I spent the rest of the day and most of the evening washing sheets and slipcovers and throwing everything else in the dryer for a little heat shock therapy to whatever little visitors might be lurking.
All the while thinking, You have GOT to be kidding me.
It was a loooong day.
Oh, and I haven’t mentioned the Great Wood Floor Debacle that added itself to my list of debacles.
Apparently, OrangeGlo wood floor cleaner is disastrous for wood floors and leaves a milky white film that can only be removed with Windex and paper towels and four long hours of intense scrubbing.
Yeah. I found that out a little too late.
My arms and shoulders and back are killing me.
It’s my fault. I said it out loud.
It’s almost funny. Almost.
I’m planning to keep my evil thoughts to myself for a while. Not opening my mouth. Not saying anything out loud.
I wonder if OrangeGlo will kill head lice?