It's Been Taken Care Of

Last year when Edith was in Kindergarten, everyone in her class had lice all year long. But Edith never got it. I learned all this at Field Day in May – other parents were telling me how their kids got it 3 or 4 times in the school year. I was so relieved Edith didn’t get it. I’m pretty certain that I (and my brothers) are not allergic to poison ivy. None of us have ever had it, and we’ve been in plenty of situations to at least one of us have gotten it once. I wondered if a person can just not be a good host for lice? I’ll admit, I was a little smug and a little proud that we got by unscathed.

A couple weeks ago I got a call from Nurse Michelle, which is never good. But could it be any worse??? You got it, Edith had lice. My head started to itch before I even hung up the phone. I panicked. Our lives are too busy for this! And how embarrassing! How shameful! Is it because I forgot to brush her hair that morning? I envisioned little bugs crawling up my back, over my scalp, in my ears, on my truck seats. We co-sleep, so there’s no way I’m unscathed in this. I start making phone calls – cancelling our lives – my own doctor appointment, two work appointments. I don’t want anyone to know! I go to Walmart and buy supplies and I give Edith one of her dreams – instead of having day care pick her up, I picked her up myself. She was a “car kid” for one day.

When I got her home, I looked in her hair to see what it looks like, because I have no idea what it looks like. I see nothing. So, apparently, lice is invisible. 

I had two hours to neutralize this invisible crap that had invaded our lives. You’d be amazed how efficient I can be – I put us in the shower – one shampoo, two shampoos. Leave the shampoo on, put plastic bags on our heads. Set Edith to doing homework. Strip the bed. Start the laundry. 83 loads of laundry, and that’s just the bedding. Thank God we have no carpet. Start spraying the mattress, the couches, the rugs. Rinse the shampoo out after 40 minutes. Give the dog a bath. Switch the laundry. Go, go, go!!!! Lice neutralized.

Throughout the process and the evening, Edith kept apologizing to me. She was in tears over this humiliation. I said, “Baby, baby, it isn’t your fault you have lice. It’s nothing you did. You did not cause this. It just happens, baby.” To which she would apologize again, and say she felt bad she made me do all that laundry. And yet again, I kept reassuring her that it wasn’t her fault. And that it was taken care of. It’s okay. It’s okay.

The next day I called Nurse Michelle and asked her to check Edith again with her microscopic vision, because I didn’t see anything. She called me back and said that all the live lice were gone, but there were still eggs. She said she’d send home a special comb for us to borrow. She also informed me that Edith had been telling everyone at school that she had lice, and Nurse Michelle had told her she didn’t need to divulge that information. A few hours later I got a call from the parents of the kids we were supposed to babysit that night…. Edith had told their dad she had lice. I affirmed she did not have it - but that she had HAD it. Miraculously, their plans fell through for that evening. They told me it had nothing to do with the lice, but I have my doubts. I don’t blame them. 

When I picked Edith up from school, I told her SHE DOES NOT HAVE LICE and to quit telling people she does. I explained to her, again, that she had HAD lice, but we took care of it. And now she doesn’t. I explained when she tells people that she has lice she scares them, and no one wants to be around her. She told me that she still had lice eggs, so she still has lice. And that makes a lot of sense – I can see her reasoning. I explained that all the live lice were dead, and yes, she had eggs, but we were going to keep treating her hair, and we were going to comb out those eggs, and she didn’t have lice anymore. I’m not even sure I believed my own reasoning though. I mean, eggs are eggs; but I did my damnedest to be convincing.

Even my Best Friend Siri is in denial about lice. Every time I try to type in a text message, she tries to change it to something it isn’t. Like. Live. Lide. Lime. You name it. Just not LICE.

I called her Girl Scout troop leader and told her about it, since the night before the discovery we’d been to a troop meeting. I asked her to let the other parents know, but to please leave my name out of it, PLEASE. This whole thing was so mortifying. That next night we had another Girl Scout function. On the way there, I told Edith if she told anyone there she had lice, I was going to beat her within an inch of her life. She solemnly swore she would not. After we’d been there about an hour, another mom walked up beside me and said, “So, Edith had lice?” I tell you what…..it’s a good thing there were about 100 witnesses, because Edith’s life was delicately swinging in the balance from a frazzled thread. I realized after the fact that this mom was also a troop leader, so Troop Leader #1 probably told Troop Leader #2, which is completely acceptable. But at the time, I saw red. RED I SAY.

The entire experience is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone. And I realize, it’s probably not my last experience with it either. But lice don’t like hair dryers. I don’t either, but I’m going to acquiesce on that point. We’ve used a blow dryer three times in the past two weeks.

At some point in this whole process, my brain started making a really big connection – you know, lice and sin have a lot in common.  You might laugh, but I think I needed the lesson. For starters, I thought we couldn’t get it – there have been sins that I was certain I would never “catch.” I was smug and self-righteous. And then it happened. And I was embarrassed and ashamed, but there are some things you can’t hide. And everyone knew. And you know what? Sometimes I can’t even help myself from telling them about them, even when I know I’d be better off to keep my mouth shut. And now, I see others around me who aren’t guilty of *my* particular sins, and they feel the same way - I can read the self-righteousness from a mile away, because I’ve been that person. I bet in ways I still am that person. 

The biggest hitting home point for me was that our sin problem has been taken care of – completely taken care of – but I don’t accept that. My brain can’t fathom that. And so I continue to feel guilty and dirty and ashamed, when it’s already been taken care of. Completely. How exasperating for the One who already took care of it!!! To give a gift, at a heavy price, only to have the recipient not acknowledge it. And, yes, there’s more sin to come. I’m full of potential for it – but it’s still already been taken care of. And just because I have the potential, doesn’t mean I’ve committed it. Even if I do commit it, it’s still been taken care of – it just has to be treated. And treatment is simple – it ain’t no 83 loads of laundry!

So what’s the hair dryer? It’s heat. And sin can’t take the heat. My brain could literally race with the correlations, as it did today while I was out on my run. Can yours?

Does your scalp itch?