please let this plague pass by our house

I got a call from a friend yesterday warning us that they have lice. That's right, I said lice. And we have spent time playing with these friends in the last few weeks.

NOW. I. CANNOT. STOP. THE. ITCHING.

Took the boys for an immediate haircut (cutting their hair very short) to hopefully eliminate the possibility of them getting it. Hannah has been combed over and picked at like she's a baby chimpanzee.

So far, we appear to be nit-free.

PRAY for me that we remain that way.

We had our turn with this vile pest a year and a half ago, and I think I am still emotionally scarred from it. Truthfully, it is not that big of a deal, but it is SUCH A PAIN that I can't bear getting it again.

All the washing of the linens. And the washing of stuffed animals. And the vacuuming of furniture. And the spraying. And the shampooing. Oh, and the nit-picking. For hours. Days. Weeks, it seems. And every little absent-minded scratch of the head sends me into a frenzied round of head checking. Please, if there is a god in heaven, DO NOT let us get it.

It does lead me to wonder...could this explain Britney Spears' new hairdo? Probably makes picking nits much easier if there's no hair to do it in. Hmmm...

overheard this week at church

"So when's your baby due? "

"Actually, I'm not pregnant. "

"Oh. But you look so...SKINNY! "

Don't you hate the taste of your foot in your mouth? I know that taste all too well.

Lesson for us all: NEVER, EVER ask a woman if she's pregnant. EVER. I mean EVER. I thank heaven that I was only eavesdropping, and that I was not the party asking, or the party that got asked.

pain

It happened again last night - I got the sniffly, groggy Chase at my bedside around two a.m. - telling me he was having "the pain."

We have been battling knee pain with him for almost a year now. I. HAVE. ABOUT. HAD. IT. The poor kid - I know he's suffering, but the doctors tell us there's not much we can do. We've done rounds of x-rays on hips, knees, and spine. We've consulted two different orthopedic surgeons, as well as begged the free advice of doctor friends. Everyone tells us the same thing - growing pains. The cure? Nothing. You just have to wait it out.

Either that or stop growing.

It's made me think about change and the inevitable growth that we gain from it. I can't think of a single time in my entire life that I had an easy growing experience. Never did shopping happily at the mall ever teach me any life lessons (BLASPHEMY, I know), but true nonetheless. All my life's lessons have come through hard-fought, painful experiences that sometimes seemed more than I could bear. Times when my load to bear felt so heavy that the only thing left to do was cry. Times like trying to sell our house last year. Times like struggling as newlyweds to survive graduate school, bad jobs, and pregnancy. Times like sick kids and all THAT entails - bodily fluid so endless you feel like you're bathing in it.

But as time passes, and I gain the wisdom that hindsight provides - the leftover that remains is growth. Growth that only comes as a result of the hard times. But it's a good thing. Change is good. Sometimes it hurts, OH, IT REALLY CAN HURT, but the reward you get is greater than the suffering you bore. And the lessons you learn make you strong enough to handle the next thing headed your way. It's as if you need to learn that lesson in order to be ready for the next one. Line upon line, as they say.

So we'll keep on icing that little knee of yours, buddy. I'll stumble down the stairs to that box of Tylenol when I'm not even awake. I'll help you stretch it out so you can sleep. For what we are gaining is a strong little body that will carry you for the rest of your beautiful life.

But like everything in MY life, I just wish it was all a bit more convenient for me.

It isn't.

And I'll get over it.

daddy's little girl

Hannah, oh Hannah. I looked at you today and realized that you are growing up - right before my eyes. It seems like just yesterday that we found out the surprising [read terrifyingly panicked] news that you would be joining our family. But the minute we saw your tiny arms and legs kicking around on the ultrasound, I knew it would be okay. And every day since then, it's been more than okay - it's been fantastic.

You are still little enough that you say some of your words wrong - words like fink (think); free (three); busketti (spaghetti); and sum-ping (something). McKay tries to correct you, and every time I stop him. I don't want to lose that last little baby in you. I'm not ready to give you up just yet. I know it's coming - and far too quickly - but I'm just not willing to let it be accelerated by anything.

Sometimes you startle me with the articulate way in which you ponder the everyday. Like tonight when you matter-of-factly lifted up your nightgown, pointed south, and told me, "That's where babies come out." How you figured that out, I'll never know - BECAUSE I'VE AVOIDED THAT TOPIC LIKE IT WAS A TOXIC POISON. But that's you - just tell it like it is. You have the ability to observe, analyze, and process life in such a way that is well beyond your years. I truly believe you are an old soul.

It makes me laugh sometimes when you make Daddy work for your affection. It's kind of like you've already got men all figured out - and you know you can use your charm to make them come to you. But you are in reality putty in his hand - it's him you seek when you come screaming after you see a bee or find a spider.

You are sensitive - OH, THE SENSITIVITY. But with that comes a heart so big, so full of love that it gets us through the tough girl moments. You have helped us all see the world from your eyes, which has brought a good balance to this house full of rough boys. You have become my ally, my partner in crime, my teammate. You are my tiny, talking shadow - following me from the early morning to bedtime at night. I know I will miss your constant chatter this year when you go to school. I will miss each baby part of you that disappears as you grow. And although I can't wait to love and cherish the girl you are becoming, I will always long for my baby girl. And until every last bit of baby is gone, I promise to treasure those thousand little pieces that make you who you are. I love you, little chica.

this week's lessons

• When I have out-of-town visitors and we are planning outdoor activities, a freakishly large rainstorm will blow in, rain ALL DAY, and ruin our plans.
• Sea World, the day after said rainstorm, should be avoided like the plague. All the people who were rained out will try and go the next day. Lines will be hours long. We will leave in disgust.
• Reading to my kids truly makes me happy. (Current read: Bridge to Terabithia)
• Do not attempt to tease Hannah about the messy state of her bedroom by calling her "Templeton." It will "WEALLY HURT HER FEELINGS!"
• Grey's Anatomy is the best show ever.
• School vacation week in February is so much better without snow on the ground.
• Taking dinner to a friend who's just had a baby will make me want another baby. FOR ONE WHOLE SECOND. Then it's gone, and I'm glad to have my big kids.
• Critter Camp (a day camp for the boys while they're out of school this week) is made much more exciting by the turtles "fighting" each other [read: MATING].
• Drastic life changes are good.
• Favorite thing of the week: Colin Hay on the I-Pod.

a conversation

(Scene: All You Need is Love playing on the I-Pod. Me, cooking dinner; Hannah at my side.)

Hannah: Did that song say all you need is love?

Yeah, isn't that great?

Hannah: That's not great. You don't just need love.

Well, what else do you need?

Hannah: You need cousins, grandpas, brothers. You need bunnies. Oh, and you really need food. You can't do ANY-FING without food. See, Mom, you need more than just love.

Pardon me. I stand CORRECTED.