Friday, September 24, 2004
Page 15
AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)
Unlikely Weapon in War on the Home Front
By J’AMY PACHECO
Few things can strike terror into the heart of a motherlike a notice sent home from school.
I don’t mean notices from the principal, the librarian or even the cafeteria lady – disciplinary action, lost books and life-threatening food poisoning are nothing compared to another cause for anxiety in the family of a school age child.
I experienced that terror recently when my third-grader brought home a notice titled, in big, bold letters:
“HEAD LICE ALERT.”
The famous shower scene music from the old movie “Psycho” began to play in my mind as I read the notice advising somebody in the student body had head lice. My scalp actually began to itch as I read instructions for checking my family’s hair, consulting my pharmacist if beasties were found, and getting nits out of infested heads.
It didn’t help matters that this notice from the school contained errors, like this beauty: “Here is some helpful pointers to assist you in the nit removal process.”
Here are my response: ARGH!
The idea of my little girl being exposed to head lice gives me stomach pain for this reason: she has a lot of hair. A ton of hair. Waaay more hair than I could ever hope to comb through in a tedious process designed to remove sticky things “cemented to the hair shaft close to the scalp,” according to the paper that was sent home with each student.
The evening the notice came home, I manned a t-shirt booth with some other mothers at Back-to-School Night. I raised the topic of this welcome-back-to-school gift, and couldn’t help noticing how all of them were suddenly stricken with itchy scalps.
News of head lice travels from mother to mother faster than the little buggers move themselves, and it turned out I was the only mom who hadn’t already heard the news. After I chastised my pals for not alerting me the moment they heard, the discussion turned to prevention.
This was, I admit, not my first exposure. Although I managed to make it through my entire childhood without ever seeing a louse (of the head type, I mean), two days after my daughter’s sixth birthday party, I learned that an uninvited party crasher — the sibling of a guest — had been diagnosed with head lice the day after the party. The memory of the party’s population sharing a blindfold for Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey AND the piñata made me realize we were destined to suffer.
Intending to launch a preemptive strike on my house, I bought a can of spray that is supposed to kill any little critters found on the run. But when I read the warnings on the label, I was so unnerved that I decided to take my chances with the bugs.
By some miracle for which I am still giving thanks, nobody got it. Not my family, not any of the guests – at least, nobody who admitted it.
But it was a close call – too close for comfort.
So it was with great anxiety that I listened to my friends, other moms who had childhood memories of having survived bouts of head lice.
When one of them suggested hair products as a preventative measure, I was doubtful. But the other moms jumped on the bandwagon. Hair gel, hair spray – all the stinky sticky stuff we grown ups use repel head lice, they assured me.
At my house, we rarely use the stuff. I can count on one hand the times I’ve put something sticky in my daughter’s beautiful brown-and-gold hair – and each application has involved some kind of public performance.
But as I used the blow dryer on her plentiful tresses that night, the sighting of a tiny piece of lint in her locks – likely from her bathrobe – almost stopped my heart. It’s a good thing there was not a blunt object within reach, such was my reaction.
I decided not to take any chances. When she left for school the following day, her hair was squeezed into a ponytail, which was then tightly braided and tied at the end. The whole creation was covered with hairspray, which got into her eye and nearly caused permanent blindness, she said.
I suggested she get used to it. This is war on the home front, I explained, and hairspray is our first line of defense. Besides, it looks better than a flea collar.
So now you know — there’s a head lice alert making the rounds. Better stock up on hairspray. Oh, and stop scratching your head. It’s only your imagination…
Copyright 2004, Metropolitan News Company