I really wanted to talk about something other than our outbreak of lice. I really did. Like how we had a memorable day rollerblading and picnicking in Washington Park. How Haddie has finally returned to preschool. How the weather has been glorious and we have been playing outside every day. How sweet Bode insisted we sing “I love to see the temple” during our entire hike yesterday.

But recent developments prohibit me from doing this.

It started when my dear friend Helga (name has been changed to protect the innocent) called me prior to picking Hadley up for preschool.

Me: It is always bad news when you call at 7:30 a.m.
Hegla: I hate you.

Helga then proceeded to tell me she found a delightful little black bug that morning in her daughter’s hair. A little black bug that had taken more than a week to incubate in Alex’s hair. And where there is one little black bug, there are inevitably many more. I was tempted to tell her to keep her leper colony to herself but it was Thursday and I was feeling particularly generous. I offered to bring her some Cetaphil (our miracle cure) to her house after I dropped my non-leprous daughter off at preschool.

Remember “May?”

Well, I introduced her to “Phil.”

Which, quite coincidentally, is her husband’s name.

Phil is, quite conveniently, in a third-world country, likely spreading the disease to other Innocents. And so good friend that I am, I donned my pink shower cap and scrubbed Helga’s hair with Cetaphil.

“Amber, you really are a great friend for doing this.”
“A great enough friend to give it to you in the first place.”

Because friends don’t give friends lice.

We went about our lice bonding ritual until a rather revealing document testified what they really think of me.

So much for gratitude.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

It’s been quite a year. When not traveling to Keystone and Park City, we have been sick. I think I could count on one hand the number of days Hadley attended preschool in February. To add to the lice outbreak, she contracted a mild case of chicken pox.

Jamie said we were officially cursed with the 10 Plagues because chicken pox = boils.

I am praying locusts don’t come next.

We have miraculously kept our spirits up and the weather has been kind. Last week during our incarceration, we explored our neighborhood. We climbed the hill of a water tower that overlooked our gorgeous valley. Raced around a BMX track, discovered hidden ponds, jumped over streams, traumatized geese, played in the pumpkin patch, hiked Red Rocks. It was a glorious week of togetherness and I relished every moment of it because there may be some major changes coming my way.

Well, “relished every moment” except for the lice part. As my friend Garritt said in response to my estimated amount of hair in my last post:

Amber. Considering I am still finding blond hair amidst my belongings (from 8 years ago??), blond hair that has “Amber” written all over it’s genetic code, I assert that the seemingly liberal estimate of Amber hair, one billion, is a rather puny and highly conservative estimate.

He ain’t kidding. Getting through my one billion+ strands of hair was no small feat. Thank you for all your kind words of encouragement. In the end, what ended up working was a recommendation from my former neighbor Lauri to go to this site. You MUST bookmark this page if you are ever unfortunate to have lice because this treatment was the turning point. It steered us away from the harsh lice-busting shampoos towards Cetaphil.

Yes, a facial cleanser was what finally cured us. Basically, you apply an entire bottle of Cetaphil, rub it in, comb your hair, blow dry, let it work its magic for the next eight hours, and then wash it out. It suffocates the lice and during the treatment period, it leaves your hair stiff and greasy-looking. Hadley donned a sundress the entire day and looked like this:

I, on the other hand, looked more like this:

Of course after The Killing Fields, we still had to clean up the carnage. We have done a couple of minor olive oil and then mayonnaise treatments and have spent hours picking the dead nits out of our hair. We will likely still find them for a while but we finally have a clean bill of health to interact with the human race again.

Watch out, world.

When you are in quarantine, you feel extremely isolated. Imagine my delight to go to my doorstep and find this from my friend Julie:

Forget the well-intended flowers. A mayonaise treatment with shower cap to a lice-infested family = love.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

On Friday, I blubbered like a baby. It was not because of the lice infestation that pervaded our home. Or my daughter’s chicken pox outbreak.

Though those may have contributed to my fragile state.

It was because READ ON

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog