I may have accidentally prayed to make it through something, but I know I didn't pray for strength. The last time I prayed for that was in 1996 when I was trying to survive two small babies and in answer to my prayers, God blessed me with 3 kids in 2 and 1/2 years. That certainly taught me a lesson. No more prayers for strength. I am quite as strong as I wish to be right now, thank you very much.
However, in the very Protestant attitude of "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.", I would like to take this opportunity to lie on my bed waiting for death to come. You see, I am rather certain that this latest trial will kill me.
I wasn't even going to blog about it, as embarrassing as it is, but it seems I cannot resist the lure of the blog. The catharsis, the empathy. So, in an attitude of "keeping it real", I will confess that my son had lice. We found them yesterday morning.
How is it possible that he contracted lice? It's a mystery wrapped in a riddle. He doesn't go to school. He doesn't have sleep overs. He doesn't share hats or pillows or bedding with anyone (except his younger brothers, but we will get to that). He doesn't share combs and brushes. In fact, I don't think he even combs his hair. The only place he has gone in the last 2 weeks is on a scout camp out. Out of all of the kids, him? Luckily, he scrubs his hair every single day, which I think saved us from a much more serious fate.
Of course, once lice are found, the all out war must be waged. Every item of bedding in the house, all dirty clothes, all clean clothes which were left on the floors of bedrooms and not put away, all towels and robes must be laundered. And because my kids play rotating beds every single night, not one bed was exempt. Not one. In my house of 7 people, that equates to somewhere in the neighborhood of 3,000 loads of laundry. All in one day.
Then, of course, you also have the part where you cover everyone's head's in toxic chemicals and leave it on for 10 minutes, then scrub it out while trying to avoid poisoning their eyes, and the part where you vacuum and spray every centimeter of carpet, upholstery and mattress in the entire house. Which means every window has to be opened, so then another load of blankets must be rushed through the washer and dryer to make up for the fact that the upstairs heater is not currently working. Did I mention that one of my gems also plugged the toilet?
Please God, just take me now. I'd ideally like to go before the remaining 2,950 loads of laundry require my attention. I'm begging now.