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Aug

28

How I know I’m strong


Far be it from me to disabuse people of the tears they shed on the first full-day of Kindergarten. As I exited my children’s elementary school today, coincidentally with numerous parents of five and six year olds (and a tiny number of “young fives” who have until Sept. 30 to stop being four), several friends of mine looked anxious, with that expression that makes you ask, “Are you okay????“

To which every single one of them (in truth, three) replied, “Oh, yeah. It’s the first day of Kindergarten.”

For more on the effect of that first day, whether it’s your first child (my friend from social work school, Heather) or your fourth (the Cleveland Clinic doc I see for my breast MRIs), read Chas Rich’s ode to the event here.

I’m not known for raining on people’s parades even if I can always come up with a good, apposite story for why something others see as ducky isn’t really ducky.

But, now that I know firsthand where the word “nitpicky” comes from, all bets are off when it comes to putting an arm around those parents. What would do them far more good than comfort is a dose of reality akin to what I’ve experienced during this first full week of school:

Forget about that glowy, “Ooooo – Kindergarten. They’re all so cute.” I have seen the nits and they are us – ON us that is. And there isn’t one cute thing about them.

As I wrote in a comment to Chas, “Yeah, trust me – when you get the first note home that there’s a lice infestation, and you pick up the phone to hear the health clinic volunteer tell you to come get your child who’s got lice? That warm fuzzy new school year feeling dies like the nits in the pesticide I’ve had to put on my kids’ head.

I’ve scratched my head twice in the last 15 words and I am writing this entry whilst taking a break from nitpicking through my daughter’s gorgeous tufts of enviably and never bottle-produced red hair.

You know how in the alien and prison movies there’s almost always some scene connected to shaving heads to prevent lice?

I think my daughter would look a damn sight better than even Sigourney Weaver, Britney Spears or Demi Moore.

Ugh.

The nurse’s office ruled my youngest child 100% nit-free and he returned to class today. Me? I’ve returned home with my fair-haired angel and the nits they couldn’t grab. We’ll be sitting outside in the sun in a few minutes, me, her, the nits and the louse comb.

And then, we’ll continue to do the laundry – in hot water – dried in hot heat, in attempts to kill whatever might be in linens and bedding. Throw pillows on couches and furniture might look like lovely accessories, but to the parent of a child with head lice, they are evil. They must be either washed, dry-cleaned or bagged up in a garbage bag, tied with a twisty and left for two weeks to sit until whatever might be on them dies.

I had to cancel volunteering in my son’s classroom, visiting an equipment shop to check out something that I’d promised my husband I’d look at (for weeks now) and I’ve moved the one business call I had to make to later today (thank you).

Sigh.

One teacher empathized by telling me about how she and her family of five would sit in their backyard deck chairs and leisurely comb through each other’s scalps in search of the buggers. Funny – I ‘ve never seen group nitpicking as a way to squeeze in family quality time. But the idea did make me smile.

And, honestly – my daughter and I probably haven’t spent so much one on one time together, in this close proximity, since breastfeeding. She even had the courage to tell me yesterday afternoon while she sat in a chair as bathed in sunshine as I could get her that she thought it was fun.

The nurses do an amazing job, looking through 1100 heads of squirmy four to eleven year olds. And the kids deserve commendation too – they have to sit for all those hours and have hairs yanked from their flesh. Even spouses who might come home, make dinner, usher a child into their room and put the linens back on deserve special mention.

But let me tell you who the real champion is.

Me.

The parent who never thought she could even find the insects and then spends literally hours upon hours washing the hair, fumigating the hair, rinsing the hair, and then examining every %&$@^^%$@# last hair shaft on her child’s head.

She is the one who has proven herself stronger than any insecticide, or the insect able to escape death by shampoo.

The next time anyone every tries to tell you that you’re nitpicking?

You tell them, “Nits trivial? I think nit. I mean, not.”

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By Jill Miller Zimon at 2:18 pm August 28th, 2007 in Politics 

Comments

5 Responses to “How I know I’m strong”

  1. 1 Amy S. on August 29th, 2007 1:12 am

    Yup. Been there, done that!!! Ours was on the last day of first grade which meant my daughter missed her end of year party and we had to cancel an overnight trip to a friend’s lake cabin.

    Take it from someone who survived an infestation AND a relapse, go OVERBOARD in washing and bagging everything your daughter may have looked at. Another tip — straight ironing. My daughter’s hair is thick and curly. Straight ironing her hair helped ensure that we killed all the nits and helped me get a better look at the enemy. It took forever, but my daughter loved the result. I also continued to do quick nit checks throughout the week after the initial nit hunt. It paid off as I usually found one or two that I missed the first go-round.

    Good luck!!!

  2. 2 Jill on August 29th, 2007 2:53 am

    Thanks so much, Amy. I really appreciate it. My husband and I just finished nearly two hours on her! And that was the third time today. Whew. Those critters are so hardy.

    Not to be cruel, especially to folks who are more believers than I am, but what is the conventional wisdom on why God created lice? :) There is one, right? :)

    Okay – enough.

    I know – we will OUTsurvive them!

    Thanks for the tips and I know I’ll be doing a We are Nit-free post soon.

    Also – I visited your blog. I love that PunditMom is at the top of your link list – I just read about her today on my friend Wendy Hoke’s blog, http://www.creativeink.blogspot.com.

    Anyway – thanks for reading and commenting. And let’s hear for the nit-free life.

  3. 3 Amy S. on August 29th, 2007 11:40 am

    Your guess is as good as mine on the divine wisdom of lice. Maybe it’s to help us better appreciate a nit-free existence. I love PunditMom — she’s a very prolific and inspirational blogger.

    Crossing my fingers that your house is finally de-loused!

  4. 4 Malkin doesn't know what she's talking about, let alone who speaks for her | Writes Like She Talks on September 19th, 2007 11:22 am

    [...] written, but, if I were you, I’d wait until October gets posted. It’s fashioned after this post about lice, which I titled, How I Know I’m Strong. Cuz honey – until you’ve battled those ferocious little PITAs, you ain’t no lion or [...]

  5. 5 Cleveland Family essay on lice published | Writes Like She Talks on October 7th, 2007 10:41 am

    [...] Again, the blog served as my drafting space. [...]

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