This really bugs me

I go to pick up the boys after work last Friday with only one thought on my mind, 'Yes, now I can relax.' Just then my 11-year old says the six words every woman thinks she'll never hear..."Mom, I think I have lice."

Pardon me while I hurl.

You must understand, I am no wussy. I have seen my son's skull through a split he put in his head. I have helped the doctor wrap a fractured arm. I have fumbled my way through curing their rashes (in boy-type places), dealing with their asthma bouts, completing their potty training and let's not forget the ever-popular cleaning up of the puke. I would do them all a hundred times over before I'd face lice again.

For those of you who have not had the pleasure, these disgusting why are they even on this earth creatures like to live in people's hair and feed off our blood. They not only hold on to the hair strand for dear life but they lay eggs, lots of eggs, and glue them onto the hair with a formula 3M would pay millions to own. A tsunami wouldn't budge the little bast_ _ ds!

My next stop is the pharmacy. The pharmacist just laughs at me and tries to be funny by saying, "Just rub sand in his hair and light him on fire." The SB in me wants to tell him where he can put the sand but I ask for the aisle with lice shampoo instead.

At home we shampoo and comb with this torture device that came in the box. Gobs of little bugs and eggs show up in the comb. (Hurling again). After that, we throw out his pillow. Change the sheets. Vacuum the bed, couch, chairs, rug and car seat. All his clothes with anything else he might have infested are put in dark plastic bags and sealed tight for days to kill the beasts.
I wanted to get into a plastic bag.

Next I check my younger son. Whew! No lice. I check myself as best I can and I also come up clean.

My older son is still itching.

I call my SB sister-in-law who is a nurse practitioner. She suggests vinegar and plastic wrap on the hair for 15 minutes followed by more combing. My poor boy sits there smelling like and Easter egg and looking dejected as the vinegar makes his eyes water. He turns to me and says in a serious voice, "We shall never speak this."

If only he had said we shall never blog of this.

I really should be in bed.

So I am an S.B. One of my best S.B. friends told me that not long after we met and I discovered, once again, that I have a cosmic connection and an instant like for pissy women from New York. We just blend somehow. I get them.

I have no time for being coy these days so let's get right to it. What is an S. B.? Before I tell you please read the whole explanation because it is not a tee-shirt slogan or a thing you call a girl you met in a bar that you don't like very much.

S. B. stands for Snotty Bi_ _ _. Can I say Bitch? I am in the habit of using underlines because I am a mom raising two boys under the age of twelve and underlines are a bad word, mom-thing. As I doubt my boys will be reading this any time soon and I want to be Honest as an S.B. I will use the word Bitch. In this case it is a very good thing to be, especially for those who the S.B. loves.

An S. B. is:

• The kind of woman who has more empathy than is healthy coupled with a great deal of intelligence, a fierce sense of loyalty and the notion that she needs to stand up and speak out when she or someone else is getting shit upon. (or is it shat upon - I just don't know).


• We tell people like it is and we expect some form of honesty in return.


• We see things coming and often get bit in the ass when we warn someone to get out of the way. We are usually kind when they come back to us after having learned their lesson the hard way.


• We work like bees (all puns intended).


• We feel pain for those we have never met.


• We try like hell to keep our families together and we make wonderful friends and fearsome enemies.


• We have a VERY LONG MEMORY.


• We are suckers for romance but don't really believe in it at the same time.


• We read a lot because we always want to know more.


• We laugh even more than we read.


• We yell.


• We often greet each other as just B. (And some of us find it funny to exchange things with bees on them. Remember bees sting but they also make sweet honey).

I know I'll think of more things about being an S.B. as this blog develops but that's a pretty good start.

Is late at night the best time to start a blog?

I find myself compelled to publish this now that I finally got off my ass and started a blog. I blog for my job regularly but this is different. I'm different. Different than the person you would see if I passed you on the street. I'm not hiding anything big and dark. I just had a lot of life fall on me in the past years and it pretty much covered up what's at my core. This blog is part of my attempt to scrape it off and see what emerges. Are you game? Are you B enough? We'll see....we'll see.