waging war

Day 11 in the battle against head lice. I really don’t want to dwell on it, but, especially now that I have nits, it’s all-consuming. It’s a weird thing to talk about too, which is why I feel comfortable writing about it here. On my blog. My blog that only two people read. Two people who I know won’t judge. I’m having lunch with two close (childless) friends this week, and how do I explain no-hugs to them?

On Monday night I slathered prescription-strength permethrin cream on each of the boys’ heads, which I then covered with a shower cap so they could keep the stuff on overnight.


Permethrin may be noxious, but napalm it ain’t. Last night I was still combing live lice out of each boy’s heads. When the prescription cream doesn’t work and you’re looking at applying the treatment again—which is another co-pay (granted, the co-pay cost less than the OTC stuff)—then, it’s time to bring out the big guns. Fuck Ovoid, which was described to me as having a gasoline smell. I’m talking hair clippers.


Both boys now have these amazing quarter-inch buzz cuts. Mind you, neither of them love their hair cuts as much as I do. This morning Simon said he wished we could glue the hair from the trash back onto his head. (Sigh) And Winston was fine until we arrived at school, then became very self-conscious about his craniosynostosis scar. Running in a zig-zag from ear to ear, he sports the Wood’s incision, developed by our plastic surgeon, Dr. Robert Wood, to promote normal hair growth along the incision. You can really only see the scar if you know it’s there, but it is so awesome and fearsome looking, and I’m so amazed by what this genius doctor was able to do for our little boy. You would never know that he had a congenital skull deformity.

The permethrin doesn’t seem to have worked much for me, either. I have lots of hairs so the activity closest to the scalp is rather well contained. But, occasionally, it feels like a bug is trekking through my hair, and I live in abject horror that a louse will crawl out of the long grass when I’m sitting in a meeting or having lunch with a friend. My hair is already looking a little fried from the metal comb, but it’s the only thing that gets the little critters out. Contemplating short hair...

In addition to the obscenely huge piles of laundry, I have delivered tons of clothing and blankets to the dry cleaner. This morning I picked up two wool blankets and two small goose-down comforters that typically live on the boys’ beds—to the tune of $85. Lice are very expensive.

My daily dose of music, while good, just isn’t cutting it today. I’m going big guns, too. Ritter Sport dark chocolate-covered marzipan. I had my first Ritter Sport bars twenty years ago in Germany, and I must say they are perfection. I’m glad many of the varieties are available stateside, ney, at Target, even.