Mom's Day Fun

This Mother’s Day I celebrate and hopefully say good-bye to, what has been, a Season of Lice; little critters that climbed onto the heads of the blond-haired beauties who share my DNA but none of my dark hues.

It all began when one of my 10 year old twins began complaining about an itchy scalp. Oblivious, I looked through her head, saw nothing and queried her about rinsing out shampoo and conditioner fully. I wasn’t even thinking of lice. That happened to “those other people” who I never considered being among their number. My daughter rededicated herself to rigorous hair-rinsing and the problem was solved. Or so I thought.

Days later driving home from school, the same 10 year old twin said, “Mom, Cynthia told me I had bugs in my hair.”  Slightly perturbed at such audacious words from a young fifth grader, I remained steadfastly ignorant and on to home we went.

As I began putting away bags, backpacks and sweaters, my other twin decided to play gorilla and was intently searching through her sisters’ scalp. The high pitched scream was the first interruption signaling the disruption to come.

“Agh! Oh my god! Mom! Mom! Mom! Bugs are crawling all over her head!”

She was doing the creeped-out –squiggly dance while at the same time shouting at the top of her lungs. The twin with the crawling scalp screamed as well. Mayhem ensued.

Running into the living room I shouted “Stop the screaming! Oh, my gosh,” I lectured, “Do not scream about this,” I repeated several times. There was no cause to bellow, I reasoned, it wouldn’t help anything. I walked over to the now whimpering long haired blond and applied fingers to hair. Pulling away the layers of golden strands, I saw, OH MY GOSH, massive amounts of moving bugs!

I screamed! “Agh! Oh my god! Oh my god!” I screeched, louder than both daughters, who now began to wail. Abandoning any modicum of calm, I yelled to my 13 year old son “bring the ipad! Look up lice! Get me some pictures of lice!” He did and we quickly understood that our day had shifted irrevocably. What we didn’t yet understand was that so would the next two weeks, and on into repeat performances for the next few months.

Moving my fingers through the jungle of her thick hair, I tried to smash, pull or otherwise decimate the nasty little critters while my son read aloud from the CDC website. When he got to “the way they live is by feeding on the blood of the host” my daughter screamed, jerked her head up and away from my hands, catapulting the precariously perched Kleenex full of the culprits into the air and all over the hardwood floor. And so it began.

My husband and I spent the next 4 and-a-half hours shampooing, rinsing and pulling small metal combs from the base of the hair shaft through long lengths of hair that inevitably got caught backwards into the comb. Tangles yanked at our daughters’ scalps (yes, both had the little buggers), and cries and whimpers accompanied the exploits of Alicia Silverstone in Clueless, which we played for distraction. After hours of this intimate, painful, but necessary action, I took one look at my son and said to my husband, “Shave him”.

I have decided that lice are a life lesson. So much of what their presence brings can be applied to a variety of realities that we encounter.

-          Be flexible. Always. Living in a strict routine that speaks of safety and control is a false net of security. It simply does not exist; not in pensions, portfolios, jobs, organizations, memberships, friendships and even marriages. We cannot predict what is going to come at us each day. This uncertainty can be as exciting and full of unknown positives as much as it can bring lice and other unwanted events.

-          Interruptions can offer new perspectives. My kids changed their routine entirely because of the lice. They slept downstairs in make-shift beds and loved every minute of it. It felt like a two week long slumber party. They took on greater responsibility, stripping their beds each day and learning how to start their daily load of laundry. For days they were gentler with one another, carefully checking each other’s heads and assuring that they were “clean”. 

-          Upturning what had previously been static creates a sense of dynamism that we can too easily forget is inspiring and edifying. Lice require a life change: every sheet, pillowcase, linen, towel, hoodie and stuffed animal has to be dealt with. Linens washed and dried every day, stuffed animals bagged and stowed in the garage. The bedrooms stripped bare. In doing all of these chores, we realized how much we had. The kids were reminded of the comforts they had and my husband and I, of the years of love represented by each stuffed creature. Our static routine was no longer, and there was a different level of energy that we shared.

-          Those cultural no-no’s that cause us to feel ashamed and can morph into fears of whispers behind our backs are straw figures. The worry we assign to what other people think, and our good inner power we give away when we do, is a waste of time and energy. Life happens to all of us. The specifics of how it plays out are as much a mystery of unpredictable events as what we think we can make happen. Live your life and don’t worry about the others.

-          When faced with a situation that seems embarrassing, don’t be. Stand tall in your own story and if it carries with it a societal shame card, throw out that deck and make your own. What we fear whispered about us, is often something many people experience. Since our Season of Lice, I have encountered numerous people who’ve had the same story to tell, including Amy Ahlers (Best Selling author of “Big Fat Lies”) and Sheryl Sandberg, COO of Facebook and “Lean In” author.

-          Ultimately  we are not in control, AND, we are made of tougher stuff than we think! 

Thank you, Season of Lice, and Good-bye!

Happy Mother’s Day!