It was a lovely, sunny morning in the last week before the end of the school holidays, and I had a few errands to run so I decided to bite the bullet and leave the house with all three kids. I had BoyChild sitting nicely on the steps, fully dressed and with his sandals on, quietly playing with a toy train while he waited. I had BabyGirl, also fully dressed and with her sandals on (that’s right, no gumboot fight today, thank goodness!), also playing patiently at the bottom of the stairs. Princess was dressed and had finally put her own shoes on. We were good to go.
So, naturally, something had to give.
“Mum? My head is really, really itchy?”.
Oh, blow-it-down-the-loo. Shut the front door.
One look (just one measly glance) was all it took for me to see the Princess’s head was littered (I shudder even as I type this) with nits. Headlice. Ugh.
I mean, I knew it was bound to happen eventually in our household. Princess is determined to grow her hair as long as Rapunzel, and those nitty little blighters love long hair. During school time, I am normally strict about her wearing her hair up to minimise the chances of her catching it, but its the school holidays for goodness sake! We haven’t even been around that many kids!
Sighing, I told the little kids to come back inside, that we weren’t going anywhere until we sorted out the “situation”. Princess immediately burst into tears and ran to her room, me shouting after her, “PLEASE DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING!”. I know, caring mother right here.
When she had calmed down (and the littles had been suitably distracted back inside the house – ice blocks!), I had a proper look in her hair. I don’t know what I expected them to look like, but I was horrified at how bug-like they are! I know, they are bugs, but still. Gross.
I had some treatment in my bathroom, left over from looking after my niece a few years ago, so I treated Princess and myself.
Oh, you know – I bet you are itching your head something chronic right now? I’m right, aren’t I? Don’t worry, I am too. Ugh.
But I digress. After I treated Princess and I according to the very chemical-smelling bottle I had in my bathroom, I warm-washed every piece of bedding, linen and clothing she had come into contact with, soaked the hairbrushes, and started combing her hair. There were MILLIONS of them. Millions. No exaggeration. Ok, maybe slight exaggeration. But still. There were heaps.
I also combed my hair, just to be sure. And then washed my hair. And dried it with the hairdryer. And then brushed the heck out of it. And then straightened it. And then combed it again. I was one step away from shaving it al off, Brittney styles when my friend kindly pointed out that it was probably a bit in my imagination that my own head was infested, considering I had only found one in my hair throughout that entire process.
I told my mother. And she said, “welcome to motherhood”. Yes, mother. Welcome indeed. I truly have arrived.
The next day I combed Princess again and found more live nits, leading me to the conclusion that perhaps my old treatment bottle was a touch expired and possibly not terribly effective. Quick trip to the chemist (and $30 later) and we had a more natural treatment to try. Hello, Mr Nits. Lovely to meet you.
I once again treated Princess and myself, and combed some more. And, by jingos, I think we’ve done it. Day Three and Princess appears to be nit free. I’ll continue to comb and brush her hair and of course will retreat in a week.
And my hair? Well, it’s never looked so amazing. Probably because, today alone, I’ve washed it, dried it, straightened it, combed it, brushed it, straightened it, dried it, washed it, combed it and brushed it.
Welcome to motherhood indeed. Those nitty blighters don’t stand a chance in this house.
Disgusting. I have to go and comb my hair again. Lucky Mr T with his no hair.