Reality Bites….and so does lice.

by Priscilla on May 11, 2015

This past weekend I attended a fantastic fundraiser for a cause near and dear to one of my oldest and dearest friend’s heart…The Peyton Manning Children’s Hospital St. Vincent House. Her little girl is one of the stars of the video. Take a look will you?

I’d been looking forward to it for months. I’d sweated, run, Crossfitted and Paleo’ed my way into a stunning red size 6 cocktail dress for the occasion. The evening lived up to expectations as I sat with some fascinating conversationalists. Peyton Manning mastered the ceremonies, and Dierks Bentley entertained the heck out of the crowd.

Dierks Bentley

I touched his finger…or maybe I should say he touched mine. Yes, I think that’s how I’ll phrase it.

The concert’s highlight transpired when Mr. Manning materialized onstage to sing Folsom Prison Blues (very badly) with Mr. Bentley. I’d like to think Johnny himself was looking on and laughing.

I ran into my childhood neighbor and friend, Andy, whom I haven’t seen for year. As great as it was to share the room with lots of big wigs and celebrities, running into an old pal topped my evening’s pleasure.

And then the clock struck midnight. My four inch heels came off, my eyeliner smeared and my Spanx started burst at the seams. Back to reality. I woke up the next morning, canceling my breakfast plans to see one of my favorite nephews while in town in order to drive the three hours back to my girls…but not before running out for coffee…Heather’s coffee maker broke…this was a sign of things to come. Good things never happen AFTER the coffee maker breaks. 

For as I sat at the kitchen table sipping God’s Elixir, Heather’s sister who was in town to babysit for the gala announced, Your daughter, has lice. Actually, she didn’t announce it. She coaxed Heather out into the garage acting as if she had a life altering secret to reveal like a terminal illness, and there she whispered the dreaded news.

Lice! That’s all? She whispered back to her sister. I can handle lice.

Brother #1 couldn’t. Well, that’s it! Now we’ll all get it. You get lice just by being in the room with someone who has it. I can’t go in the play room now. She was just in there. Brother #1 has a touch of Frank Constanza in him.  I think he’d confused lice with biblical leprosy and might as well have marched through the neighborhood shouting Unclean! Unclean! and called the local rabbis to come perform a purifying ceremony. We tried to convince him that he was overreacting, and that this wasn’t the case, but to no avail. By the time I left, he was donning a Hazmat Suit and taping yellow quarantine tape around the perimeter of their property.

#Brother 2 opened the refrigerator door looking for something to eat.

Heather and I drove to the store where we hunted for lice treatment acting more like embarrassed teenagers looking for the condom aisle. We made eye contact with no one while circling the drug store twice before I swallowed my pride, marched to the front of the store and queried, Where are your lice treatments? and then experienced The Walk of Shame back to aisle #7. For the record, condoms are on Aisle 8. Also for the record there are approximately 4,938 kinds of lice treatments all costing $39.99 and all with directions printed in Times New Roman size .5.

We grabbed a box of lice treatment stuff and  picked up some reading glasses on our way to the front counter. As we paid the bill, we listened to another customer regale the check out girl with stories of her gifted children both of whom started talking before age one and now at the age of three her oldest’s tech company was going public the next day.

That’s fascinating. I cooed. Her kid has lice. I shared, waving a big box of lice treatment in the air. We paid and ran out.

Back home Son #2 remained in front of the open refrigerator door.

Heather can handle lice, but her daughter didn’t get the memo. Turns out like most kids, the star of the video doesn’t like to be poked and prodded much, because, let’s face it,  if the first three months of your life are spent being poked and prodded and stared at and weighed and measured and tested, you get a little testy come nit picking time.

It became clear after three seconds into the lice treatment, that since I was a Lice Expert, it would be better for everyone involved if I treated Little Sister’s lice. Twin B once discovered a louse in her hair, bagged it, did an online search and then came downstairs to announce, I have lice. (THIS is what gifted kids looks like. Not someone who jabbers away before his or her first birthday. Gifted kids discover their own head lice when their slacker mothers take no notice whatsoever).

Plus as all we moms know, we are all much nicer to our friends’ children than we are our own and vice versa. Also, it’s the least I could do as payback for getting to touch Dierk’s finger the night before.

So the three of us sat in the garage going over Little Sister’s head with a fine tooth comb, watching the neighborhood boys play basketball in the driveway. (Son #1 still gave us wary looks.) Heather and I entertained ourselves with the idea that we should start a monkey rental company, and place monkeys in cages in CVS so people can rent them to pick out the nits much like you can rent a carpet cleaner from Meijer. This would be much easier than trying to comb through a feisty seven year old’s thick blond hair. We started outside and then after 45 minutes moved inside for a change of scenery.  30 minutes later, I declared Little Sister lice free…or at least we’d see in seven days. Just to be sure, we covered her hair in hair gel and wrapped it all up in pink Saran Wrap for 20 or so minutes to smother any other signs of life.

About this time Husband #2 (Years ago Heather divorced and remarried…not a bigamist…I should probably clarify.) returned home with a brand new ski boat he’d purchased. He shared his exciting news, and we returned with ours, and then the whole family went outside to climb around in the new boat including the Son #1 in his Hazmat suit and Little Sister with pink Saran Wrap on her head. Son #2 closed the refrigerator door and headed outside to see what all the fuss was about.

At this happy family scene, I bid my adieu and made my way north to my home complete with its dandelion ridden yard, nit free (for now) children, two crabby cats and one overly excited dog.

Cinderella is back home among her people.

{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }

Tumor Boy May 11, 2015 at 12:06 pm

Great blog. I did have one question for you sweetheart? What was Heather’s first
husbands nickname?


Priscilla May 11, 2015 at 12:11 pm



Old Pal May 11, 2015 at 2:48 pm

“running into an old pal topped my evening’s pleasure.”

Right back at ya’ Priscilla! Best part of the night, by far!

Of course, when you first came to see me, I was knee-deep in ushering groups through a line so they can have their pictures taken with a 38-year old father of twin boys who just happens to throw footballs for a living. They were also in various stages of inebriation and didn’t always have their groups together or organized when they arrived. Fun stuff! I hope my growing impatience was not too evident.

I enjoyed catching up with you later. Nothing like old Muncie stories to bring an end to a fun evening. However, I fear that I still owe an apology to the third female in your group. You remember–it took me all of 10 seconds to stick my foot in my mouth in a failed attempt to be clever. I hope she’s a forgiving soul.

Take care.


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