Is There a Louse in Your House?

It's been two years since I got the dreaded news that H9 had...LICE. Go ahead, let the itching commence. Seriously, I know your head just started itching.

The way it went down two years ago could have headlined like this: "MOM GOES CRAZY ELIMINATING LICE." 

I, literally, cleaned everything twice, and then again. When I wasn't cleaning, putting things in the dryer, ironing mattresses, changing sheets, cleaning the car, spraying with spray, googling about lice, I was searching through three heads of hair with "THE" comb!

At one point, J9, in his wise-beyond-years way, calmly said, "Mom, I googled it, and lice do not carry diseases, so don't worry." My maddened response was "You have freak--in COOTIES in your hair! Do you want COOTIES in your hair?" He did what everyone else in the house did who tried to put some sense of rationality in the air--and slowly, while still facing me,  walked away, and just let me go on about my crazy way. 

I became obsessed with all things, LICE (itch, itch). I vowed that this would not happen again. By God, we don't get lice! I washed it into my kids heads (pun intended): do not share brushes, stop hugging (ok, just kidding, but seriously, not so often), don't put on other kid's helmets, backpacks, jackets, head bands, hats, start using hair gel, hair spray, and on and on. 

I began talking so much about (itch, itch) lice and treatment methods to anyone that would listen, that friends continue to call me for advice and nit-picking help when the dreaded louse hits their house.

After it was all said and done (yes, it really did leave our home), I tossed around the idea of a nit-picking company that would nit-pick and comb through all the momma's heads, who don't have anyone as thorough as themselves, to do the tedious job of looking through their hair. I still consider writing a children's book for kids to relate to lice in the vein of "Everyone Poops." I found that my kids, based in part, upon how some parents reacted at the news when I informed them, were feeling a bit ashamed or embarrassed. Without a doubt, my irrational response to the whole ordeal contributed to this feeling too.

Well, guess what? The louse hit the house again!

Momma's reaction this time? Upon seeing the evidence, (itch, itch),  I said, in a rather high-pitched voice, "Folks, lice party in the bathroom, please call me the Lice Doctor." I wish I could say I acted completely calm and rational and that I did not google the word lice, but I certainly did much better. This time, I was armed with two weapons to defeat the louse that I repeated out loud while loading the dryer (try it):

1. I know the louse will leave the house (and by the time you are reading this, has left, so yes, my children are available to play :)) 

and most importantly, 

2. I know that having my kids get lice--has nothing to do with how I parent them.  

Lice have been around forever and don't care who you are so long as you have a head of hair (itch itch). The chances of your family having a louse in the house at some point in your child's childhood is relatively high considering six to 12 million heads get lice annually. 

Yet, I think, we still attach a stigma to lice, despite all the evidence of how it is passed and "who gets it" to the contrary, and we, ourselves, become embarrassed or ashamed--passing this along to our children to bear, as well. This embarrassment or shame may cause some to remain quiet about the lice and then others go on without treatment, infecting others, and so on. 

I say, let's put a face to the shame of lice. Let's talk about it, more importantly, tell about it, and offer support and help to our family and friends during this annoying time. (Just no hugging.)

Think about it. Just maybe by doing so, we can actually stop the spread of these lousy pests, or at least, the crazed and irrational feeling they bring to mommas everywhere! Who's with me?