De-loused

I’ve basically been neglecting this blog and any social networking for the past five weeks – my mum has been visiting. She is such a lovely lady and always comes to my rescue when Jacob is on tour. This time though, it was a five week visit. No quick train ride down to London from Fife anymore. Nope, a long 11 hours on a plane is needed. Mum, doesn’t like flying. So I appreciate that she has had to man up and get her ass on a plane just for me to get a hair cut and join a Pilates class…Thanks mum!

So, since I last picked up the laptop there has been an epidemic at school. One that, judging by the reaction of parents – it was as bad as Ebola outbreak. The dreaded infestation of lice.

One morning at drop off, I walked up to a group of mums looking highly freaked out.

“Everything okay?” I said. I got these replies….

“There’s lice in the class”

“Seven Children”

“Oh, no. What will we do?”

Being a sarcastic arse, I burst out laughing and said “oh, yeah, eeeek, nits. Whatever will we do. Call the Doctor!”

So I really thought their reactions were a joke. Turns out, it was not a joke and in fact they are crazy mofos about a wee scabby nit. I heard one mother shrieking  “oh, my gosh. It’s so unsanitary” While another spoke of their first ‘traumatizing’ experience with lice when their child was younger.

One lovely mum, removed anything and everything made of material from the class room to boil wash it. But there was a long stare and conversation about the carpet. What was to be done about it?

Nits to me, is a normal childhood problem. They are more of an annoyance than anything. If you treat them naturally, it takes forever and who wants to go around their whole family with that little nit comb hearing the screams of pain as you scrape it across each scalp in turn. But if you take the chemical route, well, you’re putting chemicals on your kid.

Some inventive people have found a great way to make some cash out of these freaked out parents. Salons with names like ‘The Magic Nit Pick’ and ‘Hairwizards’ are dotted around. Where people drive to with the whole family and pay $100 per person to get De-Loused. De-Loused at the Combatorium if you will. Yeah, yeah, I know I added a B for all those Mars Volta fans. Nearly bald fathers, sitting in chairs while the nit nurse is hysterically laughing, riding that gravy train.

I’m not really sure what to think of peoples’ reaction to these nasty nits. Am I too relaxed about it? Are they too uptight? Will I feel differently when I have to deal with them? Summer has the longest hair so I’m sure one day they will catch on. Lets hope I’m still that sarcastic cow when it does happen or that’ll be $500 out the window for all us Quists.

Hysterical blindness

Silver has just discovered the mega tantrum. Yes. She is two and a half. But it has been pretty much plain sailing so far. Little tantrums here and there. Now…whoosh. There she goes. She screams with such ferocity that it makes my ears pop.

While trying to get ready for a rare night out, little lovely Silver decided that she was not going to go to bed. Or rather that she will go to bed, as long as it was on top of Phoenix while emptying her water cup on the pillow – Nope, not going to happen!

So the tantrum starts. First the ear splitting shriek then onto low gurning with every breath. Her little face was red and she swings from the bedroom door handle – both feet up, making the most of her childlike upper body strength.

What can I do when I look into my child’s eyes to calm her down and yet I don’t exist? She couldn’t see anymore. Hysterical blindness has set in.

Wait…Just, wait. I sit down on the bed, pick up my make-up bag and keep getting ready. The screaming subsides to groaning noises but with some coughs added in for good measure. Her throat is probably as dry as a popcorn fart.

After another five minutes. She walks across and sits her ass next to me. Smiles and says “Water, Mummy”. Then gets into bed and closes her eyes.

That’s it. She has forgotten all about it. She has moved on. Maybe she realised half way through screaming that she didn’t actually know why she was screaming. But added an extra couple of minutes of grunting, to give herself time to maybe remember,or just to make it look more effective.

I do sometimes wish that I could deal with my problems in this way. I bet I would feel so amazingly relaxed if I just swung from the door frame screaming and crying for ten minutes…then moved the hell on.

Sunday, Sunday.

Yesterday was one of those challenging days, the kind where you think you have things under control but actually…nope. All manner of shit is waiting. We’ve had a long day from getting up oh so early. Saying goodbye to Jacob who is away to London for a few days. Then going to the neighbour’s house who have three kids the same age. Also shopping and Laundry. Pretty much a normal Sunday. I left the kids in the living room while I made a start cooking dinner. The normal shouting started, Phoenix was annoying Summer, Phoenix was annoying Silver, Silver was sitting too near Phoenix, yadda yadda yadda. I would walk through every so often to calm the whatever situation was going on. I then found Phoenix with a pair of kids scissors, cutting Silvers hair. she was quite happily sitting there, shouting ‘hair, hair’.

As I type this, I have just pulled another small clump of hair from the sofa. I wonder if she would have been bald if I had left them any longer. I think I may have to hide the scissors from now on. Actually how do children scissors cut hair? Surely this should be one of the requirements for kids scissors – ‘does not cut hair’. I mean, they can hardly cut paper but hair, totally easy!

We moved onto the normal bedtime routine once we finished dinner. The kids have a special routine reserved for me. Jacob gets away scot free, reads a book, kisses them, then walks out the room. I however get the full pantomime. Jumping up and down, screaming, clothes being pulled off, nappies being thrown around. All the while I’m ready to snap, blood is boiling, veins pumping. What will be my next move? I’ve already taken away two of the three bedtime books and made some threats about taking sleepy toys away. I actually don’t have a next move, I’m not going to get them up to put them on the naughty step. These kids have totally trumped me. Oh what would super-nanny do? Why didn’t I pay more attention to those programs?

What I wouldn’t give to be my husband right now. An eleven hour flight with no one climbing on my head, screaming in my ears, or pulling my hair. You wait for so long to hear that magic word – “mummy”. But then they get to 3 and you wish they had only learned to say “daddy”. Over and over and over.

‘Mummy, can you open this box?’

‘Mummy, I’m thirsty’

‘Mummy, I want a snail as a pet’

‘Mummy, I’ve had a poo, and I’m finished’

‘Daddy…oh, I mean Mummy’