What's Worse than Cancer?

What is worse than cancer?  I'll tell ya.  Cancer with lice.  Yup.  You read that right.  LICE.  Head bugs.  Hair house for a louse.  Nit nest.  Bug Bungalow.  However you want to say it, Jesus proved to me that he was a real Jokey Smurf back in January.  That prankster couldn't give the Triple Threat lice a couple months ago.  Of course not.  Because I was bald then.  I could have shaved everyone's noggin and claimed that they were supporting their poor cancer stricken mother--and not trying to get rid of hair varmints. The public would have loved that story!  Heck, we might even have been Channel 5 special on the evening news.  The precious bald family of five.

I can laugh about it now.  Because my tears are no longer trickling down my cheeks.  This is the true story of my near nervous breakdown.  Perhaps a soon-to-be Lifetime special with Christina Applegate playing me.  Seriously.  

There are some stories that just cannot be made up.  This is one.  It was January.  The Friday before the Martin Luther King, Jr. long weekend.  Kate, my second grader, was all sorts of hyped up because she was going to wear her unicorn pajamas to school for their class celebration.  I had heard rumblings about a lice outbreak at daycare and school.  And I was scared.  Very scared.  Because unbeknownst to me, Caroline had a case of head lice over Christmas break in Ohio.  And I wasn't there to deal  with it because I was back in Florida getting radiation treatments and injections and doing my best to stay alive.  I won't lie.  I smiled a smidgen because I didn't have to deal with slathering mayonnaise on a scalp and picking out nits.  But I knew karma would come back to get me, so I did my best to contain my joy at not having to comb through long, girly, hair.  Oh and before you start judging me and calling the Klausings dirty white trash, lice LOVE clean watermelon-kiwi Suave scented fresh hair.  For real.  This is what I get for keeping my kids clean. Ish.

Before I go on, are you scratching your head yet?  Yup.  Thought so.  Anyhoo, it was before school and I thought I would dump a boat load of tea tree oil on everyone's heads as a preventative measure.  I know you are only supposed to spritz a little on because that stuff is potent.  But I figured that more is better.  Kinda like money.  More is better.  What ended up happening was that my lice panic made us late to school.  We are never ever late to school. And Caroline promptly walked into Kindergarten and told her teacher that we had head bugs.

Meanwhile I was supposed to be getting one of my last radiation treatments that Friday.  And radiation after chemo and surgery makes a girl tired.  Like run a marathon while pregnant and hungover tired.  But the end was in sight.  Just as I was getting myself ready to get zapped, the school clinic lady called.  And it was then that I heard the stinging words no parent ever wants to hear.  "Your kids have nits."  I didn't know what to say.  I was so ashamed.  If you have ever been a parent of a child with lice, you know what I am talking about.  But like I said, little licies love them some clean hair.  And the school nurse reassured me of this.  Probably because she thought I was going to start crying while on the phone with her.

So I canceled my life saving radiation procedure to go pick up my dumplings from school.  As I walked into the front office I felt like everyone was staring at me because they knew the reason I was there.  THE SHAME!  I walked out with the Triple Threat and a Xeroxed copy of how to delouse your house.

We were home before Hoda and Kathie Lee aired on NBC.  Kate promptly went inside to put on some dance clothes.  Black booty shorts and a green bralette.  Perfect attire to perform contortion and gymnastic moves in the driveway to entertain the folks at the garage sale across the street.  I am being sarcastic.  She might as well have thrown out some jazz hands and hollered "Hey pedophiles creeping at the garage sale!  I live here!"

For real Kate was performing circus contortion moves in the driveway.  She had a gymnastics mat and a portable speaker blasting Shawn Mendes "Stitches" and some Katy Perry tunes.  Meanwhile I was climbing the ladder of the bunk beds to strip the mattresses.  I felt like someone had fed me cement soup. I was so worn down from the radiation.  But I had 14 years worth of laundry to do now. And our laundry room is the garage.  Florida style laundry.  Which is where I spotted the sign that Kate had set up for the garage salers.

It said "YOU CAN TAKE VIDEO."

Oh.my.stars.  My 2nd grader is in the driveway contorting herself in barely there clothing while my other two are inside with Nits-B-Gone in their hair and I am fighting for my life.  With Mt. Everest sized piles of laundry surrounding me.  At this point I laughed.  Probably one of those crazed maniacal laughs.  And I tried to take video of her.  Of course she wouldn't let me.  Video taping apparently was only for potential Chester Molesters.

So my entire weekend was spent combing through everyone's hair with a nit pick.  That is all I did.  Comb, laundry, wipe my tears, repeat.  Comb, laundry, wipe my tears, repeat.  And of course I got 'em too!  Because Jesus hates me and lice love freshly grown, ostrich feather soft, virgin hair!

Don't get your panties in a wad.  I know Jesus doesn't hate me.  It just seems like he does.  This was just one of those "God doesn't give you more than you can handle" weekends.  One of those "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" sort of days.  And while I moved the blankets from the washer to the dryer I sang that "This is My Fight Song" song in my head while I turned the dryer heat up to HIGH.  To cook those bug bastards.

My last radiation app't after a weekend of hell.