I hadn't had any time off in 15 days and was really looking forward to my weekend as I got into my car to leave work. I picked Adrian up from daycare and he was happier than ever to see me.

He gave me this huge smile and came rushing toward me, arms wide open. That boy makes my heart melt. Every time I see him it's magical.

We went home, had dinner, and crashed early with plans to meet some friends at the beach the next day. The next morning, birds were singing and the sun was shining.

We arrived at the beach, got a prime spot, and Adrian began to play in the sand as I read a magazine. Watching my sweet little boy, I reflected on how truly blessed I am.

It was shaping up to be a fabulous day.

Then, mid-afternoon, Adrian plopped down in my lap so I could put sunscreen on him.

That's when I saw it — a nasty, whitish bug running around in my son's hair. I gasped and parted his beautiful blond locks to reveal another one ... and then another.

At that point, I shouted an expletive, and called my friend Rachel over. She confirmed it. Adrian had head lice.

Gross.

So, the day at the beach was now ruined. I was in hysterics and on the phone calling Adrian's doctor. Rachel was picking through my really thick, really long hair, in search of the disgusting bugs. She didn't find any.

The doctor told me the name of what to put on my son's head, and added that I should calm down. I shoved Adrian in the car and we drove to the drugstore.

I got the treatment and read the directions, which say that it's ideal to have someone (a buddy) look through your hair with a magnifying glass to locate and remove any of the nits, or little eggs.

Well, I'm Adrian's lice buddy, but who is mine? No one, that's who.

Rachel lives way too far away, and there's no way in hell I'm calling up anyone else and asking them to remove lice eggs from my hair.

What's a single mom to do?

I deloused my son, and then, just to be sure, I shaved his head. I washed all of our sheets, pillows, rugs, towels, etc., then put Adrian to bed. I found myself — minus a buddy — sitting on a beach towel on my kitchen floor in front of a mirror at 3 AM, sectioning off parts of my hair.

In the midst of all of this I found myself, once again, angry with Levi. Cursing him, I kept telling myself that, if he hadn't left us, I wouldn't have had to put Adrian in daycare, where he contracted the lice, and none of this would have ever happened.

Even if it had happened, at least I would have had a lice buddy.