Why Are You Scratching?

Those who read my mindless blatherings well constructed, intelligent thoughts on a regular basis have by now formed a mental image of Dual Mom. I’ll even go out on a branch and assume my readers would not describe me as one who bites her tongue. Tentative, hesitant? Probably not a word often used to describe me. Yeah, I tend to speak my mind fairly frequently (often to the dismay of those in my company). I would even go as far to say that it probably would not be a terribly bad idea if I implemented my brain/mouth filter more frequently than I do. This of course would require me to get one of those fancy brain/mouth filter things because I don’t think my DNA currently has the components required to operate such an apparatus.

They say there is an exception to every rule. And in the matter of me being a loud mouth they would be correct. The exception to my speaking my mind and calling it like I see it....is when I am in the company of my older sisters. I have two. For the sake of anonymity we’ll call them Sister One and Sister Two. I know, my creativeness astounds me too. Sister One is 45, 8 years older than me. Sister Two is 38, 2 years older than me. Both sisters live on the other side of the country. I love my sisters, but.....ummmm....errrrrr I often wonder who it is my mother had an affair with because there’s no damn way we have the same parental units.

Every year, Sister One comes home during the summer along with two of her children. Family time is great, right? Sure, yeah ok. Whatever. They stay with me each year. So that would be two adults, and 5 children in a three bedroom home, for three weeks each summer. Just like a big party, right, good times, family spending quality bonding time, cousins getting to know each other, good times, right? Right? Yeah...notsomuch. You see the problem is Sister One and I both like to drink wine, and that’s about where our similarities END. I shave my armpits, this is optional for Sister One. I like to bathe every day, also optional for Sister One. I’m even such a freak of nature that I make my kids shower each evening (especially in the summer). Again, not a priority in Sister One’s life. As much as I hate housework, I love nothing more than a clean house and work hard to keep it that way. Sister One...yeah....moldy food on dishes doesn’t really concern her.

To say that we are different would be the motherfuckin understatement of the year. Keep in mind what I said about my sisters being the exception as you continue reading. Two years ago was my first summer in my new home. I had been living here for 9 months and I was still in the complete OCD stage where EVERY. DAMN. THING. had to be perfect and clean (glad I got over that stage). So my sister and her troupe arrive for their yearly sojourn. On the morning after their arrival, Sister One and I are on the deck drinking our morning coffee, listening to the birds chirp, catching up and it’s nice, right? I think to myself, “Self, perhaps this is the year where you’ll learn to accept your sister’s differences. This year you will actually enjoy your time with Sister One rather than wishing for the sweet release of death just to end the agony of her visit.”

And then I noticed my niece scratching her head.

I paused in my conversation with Sister One and watched niece scratch her head. After several minutes I asked, “Niece, you need to wash that damn head if it’s THAT itchy.” I had NO FUCKING CLUE people. I was so naive. Sister One looks at Niece and asks, “Daughter, come here and let me see your head.” She knew.....she KNEW immediately what was wrong. Niece had a HEAD FULL OF LICE. I dropped my coffee cup I was so shocked. I have three kids, we have been fortunate enough to avoid lice even though without fail, every winter there’s a notice coming home from school about outbreaks of lice. So literally, this is the first time I’ve had to deal with such an experience. I freaked the fuck out. Completely went apeshit crazy. Sister One is sitting there looking at me as though I’ve suddenly grown a second head and need to be put back on my meds and then proceeds to tell me she’ll pick up a treatment after she goes for a run. After you go for a run? After you go for a run? No bitch, you’ll take your skinny, dirty fucking ass to the nearest drugstore right this minute and you will buy EVERY damn treatment they have in the store; you’ll pick up six cans of Lysol and 12 bottles of bleach, and then you will wash the fucking BUGS out of your daughters hair and if that doesn’t work I’ve got a razor with her name written all over it.

I nodded my head. I nodded my head people. I said not a word and nodded my stupid fucking head.

Sister later tried to convince me my reaction was wayyyy over the top. And perhaps it was. But her jokes about picking the lice out of niece’s hair the way the apes do....yeah didn’t have the calming affect she was hoping for. Her nonchalance made me want to gouge my own eyes out of my head. She spent the next three days prancing around like she didn't have a care in the world. She's on holidays, after all. It's not her responsibility to clean someone else's kitchen after her kids leave it looking as though a fucking plethora of wild hyenas had emptied the contents of the fridge and cupboards all over the place. Letting her daughter go down to the beach in her barefeet and return to the house, tracking mud into every FUCKING room and THEN crawl up on Auntie's brand new sofa...yeah banner idea.

I spent the next three days doing laundry. In three days I did 27 loads of laundry. If that’s not bad enough, because I’m a freak and the idea of having bugs in my house made me want to rip my sister’s uterus out to prevent her from ever procreating again, I dried each load in the dryer for at least 2 hours....in the dead heat of summer. I scoured my floors twice a days with bleach, I followed niece around with a scrunchie, constantly telling her to put her hair up. I had visions of having to shear my own daughter, who at the time had gorgeous blonde hair straight down the middle of her back.

After four days of going completely out of my mind, I donned a hazmat suit and checked Niece’s head again and there were still bugs ( I am so scratching my head just writing this shit). At that point I purchased insecticide and started spraying my furniture. When my sister realized what I was doing she pointed out to me that insecticide wasn’t good for people to be around. Yeah, you know it....Dual Mom lost it. I turned to sister, holding the can in front of me and said, “Back the fuck up, or you get sprayed next”.

Sister and her troupe left the next day and went to stay with a friend for the remainder of their holiday. Sister did not come home last summer. I’m not sure if my reaction to her total disregard for my home was the reason, but I suspect it played a part in her decision. I can’t say I was broken hearted over not having her here.

So let’s hear it. Have you ever had to deal with crawly critters at your house? Do you have sisters you love with all your heart?