It wasn’t supposed to happen like this

by Shauna on January 12, 2012

It wasn’t the day I had planned.

You see, it was supposed to go like this. I was going to the dentist, where I would be sedated in a sort of zoned out twilight “sleep” so I wouldn’t freak out about having gum surgery. And then I would be driven home to rest for the rest of the day. Because apparently it’s not recommended to function in the regular world high on Halcion and Xanax.

I even had a note from the doctor excusing me from being Mom for that one day.

That’s what was “supposed” to happen.

Here’s what actually happened.

After my dental procedure I was still feeling groggy and kinda out of it. The very nice boyfriend was waiting in the lobby to drive me home. The nurse walked me out to meet him and said, “Now remember. Don’t leave her alone. She may act and seem normal, but she’s not.”

And with that, we left.

I remember asking, “Everything OK?”

That was my first mistake.

Because what followed was this.

“Actually….no. Your mom called and said Ethan is having an asthma attack is currently at the house giving him a breathing treatment, and also….the school nurse has Harley in her office. Lice. Again.”

It must have been the drugs playing tricks on me because surely he didn’t just tell me that a shit storm had blown into town.

I asked him to repeat what he just said. Surely this time the words asthma and lice wouldn’t cross his lips, yes?


Once we got home he walked me inside where hell was in the middle of breaking loose.

There was Ethan seated at the kitchen table, wheezing and coughing and strapped to a nebulizer.

Harley ran to me and wrapped her arms around my waist and said, “Mommy, it happened again.”

Yeah, I know. And at that very second I knew my plans had changed. This wasn’t how this day was supposed to go.

The boyfriend had an appointment he couldn’t reschedule, but he assured me he’d be gone less than one hour. Would I be OK without him for an hour?

Sure. I got this.

The last words he said to me were, “Don’t go anywhere.”

Got it.

Just as Ethan finished his breathing treatment I picked up the phone and dialed some service called The Lice Doctor. For one hundred and fifty dollars you too can have someone come into your house and rid the place of bugs once and for all.

I have no recollection of talking to the lady. Or how I even heard about. Did I google it? Who knows.

But forty five minutes later she showed up at my front door in scrubs, ready to work. She asked for a bottle of olive oil. I gave it to her. And then I watched as she poured it on Harley’s head, saying something about olive oil smothering lice.

All I remember thinking about was how expensive olive oil was. There’s one dollar, two dollars, three dollars. Seriously, she poured five dollars worth of olive oil on my nine year old’s scalp.

And then she informed me I would need to repeat this for three weeks. THREE WEEKS. Do you know how much money that would cost me? Olive oil doesn’t grow on trees you know. And also, aren’t YOU here to do this? Because I thought I just gave you a hundred and fifty dollars. PLUS an eleven dollar bottle of olive oil.

Three weeks my ass.

Just then, Ethan appeared and announced he was hungry. So I did what every parent does in this situation. I drove to McDonald’s.

About the time it was my turn to order my phone rang. “Where are you?” Was what I heard when I answered.

“Hey! I’m at McDonald’s. You want anything?”

It was the boyfriend on the other end and he didn’t sound too pleased with me. “You’re not supposed to be driving!”

“Oh, right. Well too late.”

“Come straight back.”

Seriously, I was totally fine. The sedative had completely worn off and I was hungry. I mean my mouth was totally numb but my stomach was thinking FOOD.

Five minutes later I was back at home, attempting to bite into and chew a Big Mac.

I think I was supposed to eat soup or have a milkshake or something like that. I can’t remember.

I *do* however, remember biting into my right cheek and lower lip. It didn’t hurt, naturally, because my whole face was numb from the anesthesia. The only reason I knew I had bit myself was because Ethan pointed at me and said, “You’re bleeding.”

I jumped up and ran to the hall mirror. Yep. That’s a gash. And that’s blood. I looked like I’d been in a fight. I guess you could say I kicked my own ass.

The next part of the day is fuzzy. I’m told I called some guy at the bank and talked to him about a home equity loan…for a pool I’m not building.

And then I’m pretty sure I ordered a leather recliner from Pottery Barn. I know this because someone from the delivery service called about thirty minutes ago and asked, “What time on the 16th is good for you?”

Looks like we’re getting a new chair.

Like I said in the beginning, it wasn’t the day I had planned.

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{ 10 comments… read them below or add one }

Pamela Gold January 12, 2012 at 9:57 am

Sounds about right…
Pamela Gold´s last blog post ..Stop me if you’ve heard this one….


Dawn January 12, 2012 at 10:40 am

It may not have been the day you planned but it sounds pretty damn interesting and who doesn’t like getting a comfy new chair?

BTW – for the creepy crawlies get the RobiComb. I’ve been battling the damn lice for longer than I want to remember (my girlie has thick, curly hair, apparently lice heaven). I did the olive oil, the Cetaphil, nit picking, RID and the regular lice comb and finally bought the RobiComb…lice GONE! It electrocutes the little effers so even if it’s too small to get picked up by the tines of the comb it still zaps them.


Jessica January 12, 2012 at 10:57 am

I hope the chair’s at least a nice one. And you should really get a make up day off. Lieu time, I believe it’s called. Lock yourself in your room with a good book and a bottle of wine. Harley’s nine, make her dump oil on her head herself.
Jessica´s last blog post ..The (Very Belated) Holiday Re-cap. [Part 3]


Dan Kennedy January 12, 2012 at 12:28 pm

Olive oil don’t grow on trees. Roflmdo.


El Rey January 12, 2012 at 12:33 pm

I had a somewhat similar experience back in ’95. My two month wedding anniversary date night ended with me getting stabbed in the chest. No, my wife didn’t do it. She did get me through the all night Emergency Room/hospital experience though. That’s when I knew I had a keeper.

I was sent home the next day, heavily drugged up. I need to mention right now that I am pretty intolerant of painkillers; two Tylenol will knock me out and opiates will make me a paranoid/delusional freak. Well, the opiates I was on really did a number on me.

The doctor told my wife I would probably sleep for 12 hours after I got home. She needed to go to work, so she left me at home, in bed, with the tv remote, the phone, and some water by the bedside.

Well, I woke up after 4 hours and turned on the tv. It was the day of the bombing of the Federal Building in Oklahoma City. I decided right then that I was going to drive up there from Dallas and help in the recovery efforts. I called a friend to help me put my clothes on so we could go North. I also told him to bring water because I couldn’t reach my water and I was dying of thirst. When he promptly arrived with two bottles of water and way too much concern for my well-being, he talked me out of the trip to OKC.

When he asked about the stabbing, I mumbled something about my anniversary, insurance, and my wife was coming back for me when she got off work. I then passed out for a few hours. When I came to, a few more friends were in my bedroom, talking about being a human shield to prevent my wife from attempting to finish me off. When my wife came home, she was greeted by the police. She explained everything to the cops, but the cops wanted me to collaborate her story. When they asked me about the previous night, I apparently told them my wife stabbed me so she could bomb Oklahoma City, I wanted too much water and that the people in my house were trying to help her kill me. Eventually, cooler heads prevailed and I am so glad my wonderful, forgiving wife knows not to let me near a phone when I take any kind of medicine.

Good times!


Oralee January 12, 2012 at 2:49 pm

Oh man that is hilarious. I’ve been reading your website for a while and love it, never commented before though. But, I have one tidbit. I had lice twice in high school (loooong thick hair! Butt length, in fact) and the first time we did the whole combing/scary pesticide shampoo thing, and it worked but GOD it took ages. Huge pain in the ass. The next time, went to this doctor and he gave me pills. Yes. Pills. Pills that kill lice. He said they are used mostly by aid organizations in 3rd world countries and such because nobody is going to do all that combing crap when they have to farm, or drive a rickshaw, etc. And they work. No lice. My insurance covered them as well. You should ask about it! I don’t know if they are okay for young kids, but for your sake I hope they are :)


Jana A (@jana0926) January 12, 2012 at 2:58 pm

Haha! We got a lice note home from school this week. Luckily I’ve found none so far but shit man, i’m all itchy thinking about it.


bellawriter (Nuala Reilly) January 13, 2012 at 4:13 pm

Oh, I HATE lice. HATE HATE HATE them. I feel your pain.


BF January 19, 2012 at 4:11 pm

My sister also kicked her own ass after huffing down McDonald’s breakfast after getting a cavity filled. Haha
BF´s last blog post ..Polar Plunge and other nonsense


Meredith L. February 3, 2012 at 3:25 pm

Oh, honey. It never rains but it pours. Sounds like at least you made it through? With a new chair?
Meredith L.´s last blog post ..A Spooky Kind of Love


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