Mayonnaise

On Friday night we had dinner, cleaned up, and prepped the kitchen for the great mayonnaise slathering.  It was just before 7 pm.  We had decided to get rid of the pesky lice once and for all.  It would require drastic measures so we bought the monster sized container of mayonnaise and one by one beaconed our children into the kitchen.  Darius was the first subject.  I poured approximately half a cup of the white goopy liquid onto his thick mane and began massaging it into his scalp.  He tolerated only so much rubbing before he slithered out of the kitchen from under my fingertips.  Calling after him, I let him know that he would need to return in an hour or so. 

Next came Jacobey who scrunched up his face at the feel of cold, wet mayo all over his head.  I poured it on, spread it around, then had some fun with his hair style. We talked about how mayo would be, in theory, the best thing to use on Crazy Hair Day, because you could really get your hair to stick up well.  After a quick glance in the mirror, he approved and headed off.

Selah with a bit longer hair required more than a mere half cup.  I could really go to town with her hair style as I worked my substance throughout her golden locks.  After having played a bit, we put it up in a bun so as to not bother her face.

Sethy, like the others, commented on the feel of such a strange substance and wondered aloud if this would actually do the trick.  I had to confess that I hoped so but didn't know for sure.  Since it had been recommended by a few different friends, I though it was worth a try. Just like the others, he went off to play someplace in our small home. 

Doug and I used the remaining amount on our scalps--Me more (way more) and him less.  To me he looked like he'd simply used too much hair gel.  Me, not so much.  It took close to a full cup of mayo to slather my whole head since I have such a mop of hair. Up it all went into a bun and then I busied myself with other tasks. 

Well, if I thought that I was going to do this deed without the neighbors knowing, I was dead wrong.  Normally when dinner ends, we hang out inside our house not seeing anyone else for the remainder of the evening.  Of course, that is except for this night. The kids in the next houses showed up at our door alerting us that there was a huge game of Sardines going on outside (a favorite of our guys) and they were being summonsed.  With an expectant expression Darius asked permission to bolt out the door and I knew he was speaking for the other three.  Well, what does one say to her mayo-laden children?  "No" to preserve our pride and self-respect?  Or "Yes" to throw caution to the wind, hope the dark is dark enough, and let the kids play with the accumulated mob building?

Well, depending upon who you are, you'll be proud of me.  At a moment's notice I knew I had to live my life not worrying about what people think.  I said, "Sure, go have fun" and they all flew out the door not even concerned that they might be found out.  That was only me, but not for long. For the next hour plus I busied myself again with other physical tasks, all the while mentally considering how much I worry about what other people think.  I say that I don't but I'm certain that's not true.  I sometimes allow others' opinions to determine whether I wear make-up, what I bring to ladies' functions, how I pray, how we wear our hair, the way I dress, whether I ride the little bike Doug bought for me or not, how I discipline my kids, and the list goes on.  That's not how I want to live my life.  I don't want to go with how the crowd thinks--crowds are too fickle for one, and sometimes they don't make wise choices for two.  If I'm going to make choices based one something, I'd better chose something more than just the opinions of other humans like me who are flawed like me.  This turned out to be another plug by God to get me to consult Him instead and worry only with what He thinks.  (His standards are higher anyway--though sometimes He does come up with some crazy things--build an Ark, did you say!!??)

So.....a lot later the kids came in, worn from their play and ready to be minus their cool hairdos.  Darius reported that he and Cobey had been asked why they smelled of mayo.  Of course he said, "Cause we have lice!" which cemented my desire to not care what others thought.  I'd made my bed and now I was surely going to lie in it. I had to laugh. 

Doug and I spent the next near hour combing out the younger three's hair and then washing their scalp at the kitchen sink.  Many of the tiny villians were dead or at least gave the impression that they'd overdosed on mayo and therefore combed out easily.  Interestingly we found an oversized ant and a termite in Sethy's hair as well.  Where had he been all night?!  Then we ushered them into the shower so they could wash in an attempt to remove all traces of the smelly, warm condiment that had for the past three hours run down my neck and the side of my face.

We allowed Darius to continue reading his book while Doug and I began raking through our own hair.  It took a very long time to get all the tangles out of mine--Doug, not so much--and then I made a move toward the shower.  I was very ready to be done with the stench as well.  Just as I turned on the shower faucet, and Doug turned on the kitchen one, we both discovered the same thing:  we had no more running water.  In disbelief we turned the knobs on and off a few times before the full weight of reality finally hit.  We had no running water.  I began to pace and start to assess whether this was time to panic.  Darius, Doug and I all had mayo still in our hair and desperately needed a shower, much less an opportunity to simply rinse the oily stuff out.  How were we going to sleep with a head full of the foulest, runniest stuff we'd ever lathered our scalp with?!  AARRHHHHHHH!

Talk about frustrated!  Then I started to pray.  I was casting out all sorts of evil from my kitchen:  satan, demons, whoever else dared to stop our water and mess with my life.  Will these frustrations never end?  Did I mention that in the midst of that we had to kill a roach in our kitchen and then another one in Darius' and Jacobey's room?  Sometimes I feel near my breaking point with the little things (BUGS) that can overwhelm one in the midst.  It took a concerted effort to not get mad or go mad.

Praise God that we had a near-full tank of drinking water sitting in the laundry room.  So....we filled up the teapot and took turns pouring fresh drinking water over one another's shampooed scalp in the kitchen sink.  We had enough to make it to all three of our heads and then we slowly meandered toward bed.  It was after 10:45 and we'd been at it for nearly four hours.  Just as we were turning out lights I decided to check the faucet one last time.  Out trickled the most wonderful sight.  I called to Doug letting him know that we'd been blessed and that I was hopping into the shower.  I took a good and hot one and felt that sometimes persistence and prayer are all one can do. 

So, for an update here on Sunday night, we've seen only a few live lice, most are still either dead or extremely small.  Between yesterday and today I painstakingly picked out over 100 of the near microscopic critters from one child's head.  The others had some too.  I'm not sure if any of these things are still living but I do know that we'll have to do the mayo thing again in a manner of days--one evening this week.  I think we've all decided that once the mayo does it's thing and the lice are finally gone--soon we hope--we'll all be enjoying mustard on our sandwiches instead. 

Meanwhile I sit here on the bed with the laptop on my legs which are covered in red, hot, welted bug bites that I got today while outside.  Ice packs help with the heat and swelling.  I'm trying to keep a sense of humor and find some joy in it all. 
Pray.....
Blessings, kim  ; )