I'm not very stout-hearted. I wouldn't make a good pioneer wife, and I often fail at making a good minister's wife. But I've been feeling fairly pleased with my attitude about Daniel going to Spain for three weeks. In fact, the whole thing was my idea and, other than a couple emotional freak-outs about whether or not I'll be insane by the time August rolls around, I've handled the whole prospect with a surprising amount calm and even--well, yes--anticipation.

I've been feeling fairly pleased... until today.

Last night, Gabriel told Daniel that his head hurt and that there were spiders crawling around in his hair. Uh-oh. Close inspection revealed two patches of dark poppy-seed and smaller dots, and when I came upstairs with the comb, I found a real-deal louse crawling around. (Louse is the singular for lice, in case any are wondering.)

Those of you who know me know I get sick to my stomach just trying to tweeze my eyebrows. (I use the word tweeze instead of pluck because I have a very good sister who hounds me for refering to myself as one might refer to a chicken.) I can finally kill spiders after years and years of just screaming and running the other way, but only as long as they're tiny and don't squish at all during the killing; any of size are trapped and left for Daniel to dispose of upon his return home. When trying to remove a splinter from Daniel's foot the other day, I had to stop because I thought I was going to throw up.

It isn't just blood, folks; it's absolutely anything dirty or yucky or insect-y that gets me reeling and lurching.

Gabriel now has a shaved head which he, fortunately, thinks it's cool--even if his mother almost cried about it and refuses to shave Bronwyn's head [at this point], though taking care of the lice would be much simpler if there was no hair and Daniel argues that she'll just look like Demi Moore if we do it. We all were treated with Nix (Daniel and I did the treatment as a precaution, as we haven't [yet] found any lice in our hair). I stripped every bed, bleached or vacuumed every floor, sprayed every piece of furniture with lice-killing chemicals, bagged numerous toys in air-tight bags, and have been combing hair every couple hours.

And let me just tell you, with laundry piled to the ceiling in the laundry room and the anticipation of it being piled every day for at least two weeks, I am not feeling very ready for these next three weeks. I can't even think about the possibility of finding lice on my head, as that might just make my eyes smart with tears. My lists were long and my to-dos significant before this break-out, and I just don't do so well when my plans get messed up.

But I'm trying. I'm making an effort to decide that I can do this, even if I am house-bound, up to my eyeballs in 10x the normal cleaning, and ready to hurl every time I find a nit or a louse on the scalp of one of my children.

Be warned, though. You probably don't want to visit and "check in on me" for two reasons:

1. you might leave with a louse clinging to a hair shaft.

2. you might get roped into stripping and re-making beds, vacuuming carpet, bleaching linoleum, and/or combing scalps. (I figure I'll probably be able to refrain from making guests do the normal stuff like cleaning toilets, walking the baby and cooking our dinner.)

At any rate, since you might better not stop in, I am petitioning prayers for me while you're praying for my husband and the team in Spain. I'm working on that stout-hearted thing and, seeing as how I've often prayed that He would help me out in this area, I figure He's got me "in school" and I might as well make the most of it.

(Oh--and if your children were in the toddler nursery on Sunday morning, I'm very, very sorry.)