Sitting in a TV studio, anchoring the news at an ungodly predawn hour, I reclined in my chair during a commercial break, using my phone to browse through crisp new dress clothes at an overpriced store. I was wondering if skinny ties were still in fashion when a notification came sliding down from the top of my screen. It was from my sister. There was no message, just a link with a headline, Nampa couple arrested after kids found in cockroach-infested home.

I sat up straight in my chair as if that would alleviate the sinking feeling in my stomach. It didnt work. The problem wasnt disgust at the skittering insects. The feeling was closer to embarrassment the kind you get when caught in a lie.

After hovering my thumb over the link for a moment, I tapped on it.

A Nampa couple faces a number of injury to child charges after police say they found children living in a house infested with thousands of cockroaches, the KIVI-TV story said.

I replied to my sister with four words: Sounds just like us.

My mind careened back to my childhood the one I told myself Id come to terms with. The one I accepted, but didnt mention to anyone.

When I was a kid, roaches scurried out of my backpack at school. Dog feces stuck to my shoes or smeared on my clothes. When kids made fun of me, I used to try to come up with clever lies for my classmates to explain it all away. Ive been volunteering at an animal shelter, Id say. Or, This is synthetic poop and Im part of a study on childhood bullying. Ill include your taunting in my report.

I thought I was really pulling one over on them when I said my family was actually quite rich with a summer home and live-in maid but my parents made me dress poor to keep me humble.