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"It was an awesome holiday weekend, but Monday was here at last. The kids would go to school. I&amp;#039;d clean up the remainder of the Christmas decorating carnage , and life would continue in one predictable, easy going pattern. And it did. For about thirty minutes. Until the front office called me into the first aid room. I hadn&amp;#039;t even left the parking lot. I arrived one moment later, to hear the words every mother dreads: &amp;quot;Your teenage daughter is pregnant.&amp;quot; Oh, wait. Not those. Thank God. I don&amp;#039;t even have teenagers yet! Wheeeew! &amp;quot;Your kids have lice.&amp;quot; For lack of a better response that sounds both intelligent and descriptive, let me just sum up my reaction to the idea of tiny little critters crawling throughout my kids&amp;#039; scalp with the two blessed words, &amp;quot;OH CRAP.&amp;quot; In less than five seconds my life flashed before my eyes: The inevitable 1000 loads of laundry as I sterilized everything from bedding to doll clothes... countless hours spent bagging every cloth toy from their room and sealing up the bags tighter than the Gringott Vault in Diagon Alley. I was panicking to say the least. Then I calmed down a moment, remembering a verse someone mentioned to me last week about why worry is fruitless - Something about how God knew every hair on my head before I was even born.  Ummmm... with all due respect to the Bible crowd out there, that whole &amp;quot;knowing each individual hair&amp;quot; sounds all well and good, but I&amp;#039;m pretty sure the Big Guy wasn&amp;#039;t referring to picking out baby nits strand by strand. I was not happy. And my very not-so-happy self emailed my husband. Lucky for him I had regained composure by then. Well, that&amp;#039;s a lie. &amp;quot;Lice! OMG! What the heck! I am a dirty disgusting mother who can&amp;#039;t keep her tykes from getting infested even though it&amp;#039;s not my fault and the kids are so happy just playing Toon Town but I&amp;#039;m seriously dying This SUCCCCCKKKKKKKKKSSSSSSSSSSSSS.&amp;quot; And then I heard the words that got me through the next 48 hours of sheer egg plucking hell: &amp;quot;Don&amp;#039;t worry, Andrea. These little bugs have nothing on my detail-oriented laser like precision. They are going down.&amp;quot; Well of course that lice would die! My husband is really organized. He is beyond precise. Why, with his nagging us all about being responsible all the time, one could almost call him a professional nitpicker! And so I did what I could do, given I had two antsy children and a house with no food. I bought the RID. I gave them a head treatment. I combed the best I could and waited for Super Man to fly through my door and take over. This was such a harried few days; I will leave Part Two until next time. Let&amp;#039;s just take three things from this post for now. 1. Never underestimate your spouse&amp;#039;s ability to help you when you need it most. If they don&amp;#039;t help you, figure out a way to communicate to get your needs met! It&amp;#039;s worth it! 2. Never be afraid to ask your spouse for assistance. They are not mind readers. It also doesn&amp;#039;t matter what their answer is. Value yourself enough to ask the question! 3. Don&amp;#039;t ever let your kids rub heads with other kids on the playground unless you want to spend 100.00 on lice products that don&amp;#039;t work and use more energy in your dryer than Rudolph has to fly across the world to deliver a One Week In the Bahamas coupon to you for Christmas. Oh, that last statement about the vacation? That&amp;#039;s for me. Not for you. If you take it from me, I will wrap my children&amp;#039;s&amp;#039; lice infested hair around some holly branches and wish you a Happy New Year. Rub it on your scalp for good luck! It&amp;#039;s so fun! "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/relationships/a3259/of-lice-and-men-the-story-of-a/>