Lisha Cassibo has been writing for the Uxbridge Cosmos for two years, both as a freelancer and as a columnist. She has also written for several parenting magazines both here in Canada and for English publications in Switzerland. She graduated from Carleton University with an honours degree in Journalism and English Literature. She lives with her family in Sunderland.
Lice is Nice!
I've ranted before about how much I despise the idea of “balance” occuring in one's life, and about how I firmly believe the notion is absurd. Trying to fit everything in - work, kids, house, social life, health, self, etc., etc., in equal proportions is just not possible. And we all know that responsibilities other than the ones our heart knows to be the most important often creep up to the top of the to-do list, leaving little time for the good stuff. In my world, the “good stuff” consists of hanging out with the gals. Meaning the ones I gave birth to. Now I know we just ended a glorious summer, filled with sunny afternoons outside in the garden frolicking in the pool, and great adventures at various attractions around the province. I'm thinking the “balance” in my spend-time-with-the-kids account must be pretty full. So, if you need to up your ante a little, I've found the perfect way to spend quality time with your kids.
Treat them for head lice.
Seriously. There is nothing better than discovering on Labour Day Monday, at about 1:30 in the afternoon, that your middle child's head, which has been itchy for a couple of weeks but showed no signs of the dreaded critters on other checks, is now a happy dwelling place for teeny tiny bugs.
What better way to call all other activities off and just hole up in the house for a few hours? Shops are closed, so you can't race off to find some miracle chemical that will rid your child's head of the beasties. School starts the next day, and you really don't want to be the cause of the already overwrought secretary now having to photocopy those lovely form letters that come home announcing someone in your child's class....
So you pick a sunny, well-lit spot, grab a few hairclips, some snacks, some books, and you start picking.
I know I sound ridiculous, but, aside from the four hours on my feet and the eyestrain, it really was a good time. I did the worst first, so my middle daughter climbed back into her pyjamas and housecoat and hunkered down in front of me. We had a great time! We talked about the summer we'd had, some fun activities that were coming up, whether I'd done this with my mummy when I was a girl (no, I'd never had the pleasure), and just lots of blah blah. She asked questions, and because I really had nowhere else to go or anything to do, I answered them. Not on the run, not a brief explanation, as is sometimes the norm, but really answered them. She read to me, and I marvelled again over how much her reading has improved.
I sometimes feel a little disconnected from my second-born. She just marches to such a different drummer that I worry she'll slip right through my fingers someday and I'll hate myself for not having done things differently. But for these few hours at least, we were on the same page. She's a funny girl. I don't mean odd, I mean she has her father's knack for one-liners that can slay a crowd. We had some good laughs, cleaned up her head, and just reveled in the whole experience.
For whatever reason, her two sisters weren't nearly as bad, so their picking time was greatly reduced, but we still had some decent chats. As decent as a chat can get with a four-year old, anyway. There were moments when I wondered if she'd been sniffing the play glue from earlier in the day, so I just nodded a lot then and kept on picking.
I doused all of them with olive oil and wrapped their heads in saran wrap to suffocate the lice, and we all had a good laugh at the thought of just adding some tomatoes, basil and balsamic vinagrette and we'd have hair salad! We hurt our tummies laughing at the absurd fashion show that featured see-through turbans.
It's kind of comforting to know that, over the next few days, with life being so back-to-school hectic, we'll all have a few moments (or hours, depending on how things have gone) to sit down and really be intimate with each other, chat, and set things up for a really super school year. Who knows, a new tradition could spring out of this somehow!
Although I wanted to cry when my husband pulled the first wee bug off the special little comb, and raised my eyes heavenward to demand “why me?”, I really am not all that miffed that this has happened. I can't do a darn thing about it, so I may as well embrace the opportunity for what it can offer, and live my way through it.
Now, if you asked me about my mental state when I approached the 14 loads of laundry that accompanied this little adventure...
