I Don't Like Mondays.
Mood:  d'oh
Topic: Rants
First of all: We didn't get enough sleep. Ben didn't, and I didn't. In fact, he hardly slept all night; I could tell this because every time I got up to pee again, or rolled over to shift my pregnant bulk from my left side to my right side, or to extract Woody from my armpit or a pacifier from my butt crack, there was Ben, lying awake channel surfing. He'd set his alarm for 5:40 a.m.; he had a plane to catch this morning to San Jose.

When my alarm rang at 5:42 a.m., he spoke up: I don't have to get up for another hour.

What do you mean? I asked.

I rechecked my flight schedule, he said. About an hour ago. He rolled back over, and I left him alone. If he got three hours of sleep last night, I'm surprised. That's my husband and me: Two insomniacs who passed in the night.

I took the boys to day care and went to work, arriving at 7:45 a.m. Set about my day, when at 8:15 the cellphone rang. Day care lady calling. What's this? The boys had fevers last week.

Sam is crawling with head lice, she reported. Matt won't cooperate and let us see if he has them too, but chances are he does. Come get them.

I went over there. They caught them at day care; they had to. Lice are common in school and day care settings because they are passed by children to other children. My kids don't see other kids outside of day care; they aren't in school yet, we don't have friends with kids, and their youngest cousin is in junior high school. Unfortunately, the day care lady had other opinions.

We've checked the other children and no one else has them. Your kids brought these lice here, and now I'm going to have to spray and sanitize the whole place and call all the other parents. She rejected my suggestions that one of the new kids who just started there in the last few weeks had brought them in, and also suggested that it was extremely rude of me to maintain my kids had caught lice at her house, not infested it.

Well. This is a woman I've known for 21 years. She's practically family. To my everlasting gratitude, I didn't burst into tears until I was buckling the boys into the minivan. And then I found it hard to stop. I bawled and sniveled for a good 45 minutes, all the way back home, where I started the lice treatment. Sam was cooperative. Matt, as is his wont, screamed and protested.

Nicky snapped at Sam when Sam got too close to his doggie bed. Sam's feelings were hurt. I was horrified.

During all this, the phone rang. Day care lady calling. I've had to send five more kids home with lice, she said. We've identified who brought it; apparently they picked it up camping. Everyone's being treated. Ah, vindication. A bit late, but I'll take it.

During the conversation, Nicky snapped at Matt when Matt got too close to his doggie bed. Matt was terrified and started crying. It's becoming clear that the dog was never taught any manners and will be a rehabilitation project. One for which I have the time, strength and patience? God, I don't know. He certainly is cute, but I have, er, a lot on my plate.

I'm back at the office. My oldest is home with the boys for the rest of the day. Ben, in San Jose, has been kept apprised of the surprises the day has yielded so far. What fresh hell is this? he must be thinking. I trust -- I hope -- that he will come safely home to the bosom of his family this evening, instead of (as must sound tempting right about now) immediately looking for a nice quiet bachelor apartment somewhere.

I don't like Mondays. Julia? Thanks for not being born last week. I would have hated for today's chaos to have been one of your first days on earth. Life is hard enough without snappish dogs and head lice to herald your debut.