Mar 10
2
Doing Hair…& Other Lessons
Our guest blogger, Tina, is a mother of three and wife of Bill. She is a talented lady and one of our favorite people. She shares her thoughts about a most difficult situation. Thank you, Tina. We all love you for your honesty and humor in the midst of trial.
Motherhood is a daily lesson in humility, at least for me. Take, for example, the little experience I had just a few years ago. I was doing my daughter’s hair for church one Sunday morning (a rare act for me at the time) and—horror of horrors!—I noticed something move. I wanted to rub my eyes. Was I hallucinating? Nope, there it was again. A tiny looking bug, smaller than a grain of rice. In her hair. Yup, it was head lice. Suppressing my desire to jump up and down and scream, I took those ten calming breaths they used to natter on about, and tried to calm down.
I was powerless to prevent a shrill tone in my voice. My daughter knew something big was occurring as I demanded of my husband, “Look, here! What do you think? It’s lice, right?” He muttered something non-committal as I went into full-combat mode. I requested that my husband stay home with the kids—I had church responsibilities, and we didn’t want to infect anyone else—and calmly suggested that he shave the boys’ heads, military-style.
After my due diligence at church, I decided my “ox was in the mire”, and went to our local large-mart to acquire every last lice removal product known to civilized man. Here’s the lesson in humility. Forget buying family planning or feminine hygiene products…true embarrassment is achieved with the perusal and purchase of lice-removal shampoo. To compound my problem, it wasn’t found in the shampoo aisle (where it should’ve been, and I could have been pretending to examine the merits of full-body versus moisturizing while in reality studying the brands of lice shampoo.) No, it was in the First Aid aisle! So, I had to pretend to study bandages (Antibiotic included? Fabric? Plastic?) while surreptitiously gathering intelligence on the various brands of lice shampoo. In the end I purchased a dozen of the most likely-looking boxes, (with overly-optimistic names like “Lice-B-gone” and “Lice-X”) wishing vainly that I had brought a hat and dark sunglasses inside the store. Ah, mortification at its finest!
Long story short, we eradicated the lice threat. As a bonus, I believe I actually learned a few things from the experience. I learned that those so-called lice shampoos don’t work, but that the combs do a fair job getting the nits. Also, five gallons of olive oil worked through the hair, and the application of a cheap shower cap (overnight, or at least four hours) does a fair job at sending those little buggers to their eternal rest. Marathon combing sessions are a great way to bond with your daughter. Additionally, any promises made to your teenager who comes to complain after you made him cut his hair (even though he didn’t have lice), and the subsequent teasing at school forces you to promise (rashly and emotionally) that you will never make him cut his hair again, will be remembered each and every time you make a comment about the hair for the rest of his life. It’s those rash promises that you remember the most. Good times.
