The Story of a Thursday/Days When I Decide I Won't Have Any More Children/ Mother Proposes, Diarrhoea Disposes/ Your Mother is a Deer in the Headlight, Figlia

a) Please do tell me that I am, in fact, Charlie Sheen style winning for the longest title ever.

b) After the title, the post must be appearing redundant?

Alert: There is some yuck/eew element mentioned in the paras ahead. You have been warned. 

I caught head lice that Figlia caught from her creche buddies. Figlia's problem was solved. 

My issues were different. I had no time, sometimes for a whole week, to wash my hair. Combing hair was a chore, and often done very superfluously. Lately, there was copious amount of hair that could be picked up from the floor. And I was awfully affected. 

I wanted a haircut, and I took y'day noon off to get the haircut. It was supposed to be me. I planned on spending the noon on myself, and myself. 

The first problem was going to the salon. I wanted to sink and die in the chair, thinking someone would be touching my lice-infested hair. I have not had lice in decades now. I was so dead embarrassed. 

I honestly told my little secret to the lady at the reception. I could notice the imperceptible shift in my handling. 

It was my first visit at the salon. The guy hardly took his eyes off my hair when he was snipping, and I finally sheepishly asked him, if he ever got customers like me (you know women that had ~lice~), and he admitted to me being his first ever such client. I apologized and apologized, and I attempted an explanation.

"But why can't you comb your hair?"

What took years to grow, was shed in a matter of 20 minutes. 

I was feeling a little bad to let go of the length, but was more pleased with the idea of manageable hair. 

I liked the outcome.

I stopped at the mall. Of course, I just wanted to buy some stuff, and did not want a coffee.

I had a coffee, and bought stuff.

I forgot to phone the creche, like I do in the noon. When I checked there were missed calls. 

I kicked myself, and decided to reach home before I called back.

I learnt about Figlia's eight rounds of pottypalooza and a fever that was 103 degrees. 

Half an hour later, the fever was 104 degrees. When I reached the creche, Figlia was whimpering, and there had been another round of poop. 

The rest of the evening was spent in getting medical advice, getting prescription filled, and attempting normal at home. 

She pooped at 2:30 am today (She has been pooping 3amish everyday for the past three days). Just like the last three days, the explosion from the poop bomb came out of the diaper, and spoiled more clothes than what I would care. Figlia was sleepy, and crying because I had to wet her bums, and change her clothes. It took 45 minutes after the clothes change for there to be sleep again.

Today morning, Figlia and her Dad woke up late, and we were late for everything, including flying out of the house to our respective, and when we run late, we cross each other with our words. 

Today morning was dotted with some other incidents as well, and thankfully, the actors in them were different. 

Very stressful. 

Her fever was in control, and hence I was able to leave her in the creche today. The poop situation is still grim. 

I am stressed, and feel juiced out. I am anxious, and tired, and still sleep-deprived. 

Whatever joy I had from taking a noon off evaporated before the noon was up.

As always, we are again wrapped in a medicine schedule.

I am grateful, that my daughter is growing up. And we are very close to her first birthday. 

In an absolute plus, I finally realized that Figlia has a specific phrase that she uses in excitement, or for wanting something she is interested in.