Dude.

It's about time for a really good funny one, don't 'cha think?

Problem is...I'm not laughing.  Today was awful.  I'm tempted to list off all the things that have made this last week and a half...heck...month so very difficult but I fear it would pull any and everyone considering adopting an older child away from doing so.

And the bottom line is that we are making head-way.  Which brings me to my issue.  Head lice.

Dude.

I pride myself on being one with body functions.  I have no problems admitting to perfect strangers that my tummy is not well yet my "turtles only swim in their home pond" if ya know what I mean?  And if you don't...well...I could go into great detail but I won't because I am discovering that MANY people are squeamish when it comes to poop.

{Boogers...now that's another story and if you've never listened to the lady on Google-definitions say it and define them with your children...well...you're just missing out!}

But head lice.  Can I just pause to say:  DUDE?!?!

Ugh.  So, my precious 13 year old informs me 4 weeks after living with us that she has lice.  Apparently the former foster Mom had treated several others but never her.  We would hope that our children would tell us that they had lice IMMEDIATELY, but I am thinking that she honestly may have been so worried about what we would think??  Who knows...all I know is that a few weeks ago at the end of the most INOPPORTUNE week, I was faced with one of my bigger fears:  microscopic bugs that flipping lay eggs like glue and multiply like gang busters???  Hello!!!!!  I immediately began washing everything in sight.  Even the one set of curtains in the house got washed.  I, the granola, even used chemicals...on almost everyone.  I was so tired that I passed the research baton to my dear OA (yes, you hear blame in my tone).  I was not told that after treating everyone twice and washing and spraying everything to INCLUDE the kitchen sink that I should check again within 10 days.  Because apparently if you miss one nit, the dadgum thing comes back to haunt you worse than any boy groaning "red rum, red rum" and Jack Nicholson's crazy face...really.

So last week was one of the single busiest weeks of my life.  And I'm a busy chic.  And just when I thought I could kick my feet up and rest...a tummy bug blows in and...yep...my youngest informs me that HER head has been itching...like for a WEEK!?!?

Surely nit...not.  UGH.  Insert the biggest DUDE ever.

Not a happy camper.  Homey isn't playing this time.  I have done my research and short of shaving the girls' heads...which I'm still considering...I have purchased every possible chemical on the market.  I'm a nit-picking-fool.  And I shudder every single time.

I am pretty sure that I was the epitome of exhaustion today.  I know that I was not fun-Mom.  And yet, tomorrow morning the sun is going to rise (ugh).  My children are going to greet me as if I were the most amazing Mama in the whole world. And His Mercies are new every single morning...whether I feel worthy or not.  So tomorrow I will find my do-over.  And I'll still have 222 loads of laundry to do and 2,222 nits to pick out, but I am praying that tomorrow I can choose joy and pause in the insanity and blast some silly music and dance around the house with my children (we will, of course, be spraying arousal cans full of chemicals...just in case).

And in the craziest of places...once again...I see His face.  And thank Him profusely for the gift of laughter because today we had none...and it was heinous.  I kid you nit.