Last summer, Brent and Stuart went to get a haircut. While there, the stylist discovered that Stuart had lice (gasp!). We soon discovered that Marin also had it (double gasp!). Kennedy managed to escape unscathed. From my perspective growing up, it seemed like the only kids who got lice were dirty kids, so I’ve always associated lice with poor hygiene. Needless to say, this forced me to re-evaluate my previous position.
As soon as we found out, we set to work dealing with it. Unfortunately, three of my sister’s kids had been at our house for a week and then we were at my parents’ house, so we had the pleasure of completely cleaning TWO houses and involving TWO families. First, I stripped all the beds in my parents’ house. We sprayed down all the furniture and boiled all the combs/brushes. We bagged all decorative pillows and stuffed animals. Then, after finishing up at my parents’ house, I drove home (two hours) and started the process here. I had to work during the day, which left the de-lousing and clean-up to the evening hours. I stayed up until past 1:00 am for several nights in a row, doing laundry, cleaning everything, going back & forth to a laundromat . . . [wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve had to use a laundromat!]
Brent volunteered to take charge of the de-lousing process with the kids. I felt like I had a spiritual experience watching him do that to our kids-leaning over their wet heads, painstakingly going through their hair, piece by piece. The kids were crying-Stuart was heartbroken because he had gotten kicked out of a business (they wouldn’t let him even stay in the building so that the stylist could cut Brent’s hair!) and Marin was sobbing because she was so ashamed and grossed out. Brent never complained or grimaced. He was so gentle and patient. It took him at least two hours to get through all their scalps-and we repeated the process several nights in a row.
After we finished up the de-lousing on the third night, we gathered around for prayer (Stuart never lets us miss it) and I asked who wanted to say it. They volunteered me. So I started out and said: “Dear Heavenly Father, we’re thankful for today. We’re thankful for all our many blessings. We’re NOT thankful for the lice because that’s not a blessing at all . . .”
The kids giggled, but then Marin said: “Mom, can I say one? I think I can say a better one.” So she said: “Dear Heavenly Father, we’re thankful for our blessings-even the mixed ones. And we’re thankful that Daddy could be so patient with us and our hair and that Mommy washed all of our clothes and pillows and sheets and blankets. And we’re thankful that we have lice instead of a really bad disease.” I asked her afterwards how having lice could be a mixed blessing. She grinned and said: “I don’t know yet. Just sometimes stuff turns out better than we think. Or something that seems really hard turns out to be good.”
Now that some time has passed since the 2010 lice-capade, I agree with Marin that the lice were a mixed blessing. Although it was a colossal pain to deal with, it oddly led me to a couple interesting realizations.
First, it reminded me of how UN-natural the whole nurturing thing is for me. We settled on this division of labor long ago. If the kids get sick in the middle of the night, Brent cleans and cares for the kid. I take the bed/floor/laundry. It’s easier for me and he doesn’t mind it, so it works for us. So whenever I hear people talk about women’s “divine role” (cringe) at church or how women are more nurturing, I usually just shake my head. Because I am a living exception to that rule.
Second, I am grateful for the totally unanticipated opportunity to fall in love with Brent all over again as I watched him de-louse my kids in between my trips back and forth to the laundromat.
Third, I’m profoundly grateful for my kids (whom I do not nurture naturally). Sure, I’m their mom, so I’m supposed to know stuff, right? But sometimes on nights like these, when their prayers offer me a tiny glimpse into their souls, I am humbled by their wisdom and insight and grateful for the bit part I get to play in their lives.
;
P.S. I almost forgot another cool thing that came out of this experience. My dear friend, Dayna Patterson, wrote a beautiful poem about me watching Brent de-louse the kids. It will be published later this year in a chapbook called Mothering. Check it out here.
Great post, Heather, as usual (although I’m a little biased). And you are being a bit modest–you often deserve to be nominated for the “best mom” of the day award. All of which brings up a topic we’ve discussed more than once. What kind of example should a mother set for her children? I have often argued that kids–particularly girls–should grow up seeing (not just being told about, but seeing) that their mother has a fulfilling and balanced life. They should understand that although their mother loves them, she is also a fully developed person with wants and needs, hopes and aspirations, frustrations and triumphs. They need to see that they are not the only reason for their mother’s existence–and that if they have children, their reason for existing will not derive exclusively from being blessed with the ability to have children. In other words, the best thing a mother can do for her children, I’m convinced, is to make sure they see her now and then NOT being a mother.
And here’s a shout out to my sister-in-law who very painstakingly went through both our kids’ hair and got the nits I’d missed–just to make sure the lice wouldn’t come back. I appreciated it (and so did our kids).
Gasp!! I forgot about Karin’s help. Saluting you from afar, Karin!
While reading this and starting to scratch my scalp, I’m so impressed with your daughter’s insight. Pure gold.
Once again, so impressed with your children, Heather and Brent. You make me want to have family prayer!
I took my kids to Chick-Fil-A for lunch today. After eating, we went into the playroom; and for the first time ever I sat with a dad in the playroom who was watching his little son. It was really gratifying to see him in there interacting with his child in the middle of the day on a Wednesday.
Also, every Wednesday morning the little girls and I go to story time at the library. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen dads there. But today, there was one. He was with his very pregnant wife and little girl.
So twice in one day I’ve seen dads in that caring, nurturing role, and both times it just did my heart good.
But isn’t it interesting how we react that way to seeing dads in those roles? I do the same. My kids do the same! If Brent comes to an event, it’s like gravy. If I miss one, I’m lame. (And I rarely miss anything.)
And people are always commenting to me re: how involved Brent is with the kids. And he is! And I love that he is and definitely consider it gratitude-worthy. But no one ever says, “Boy, isn’t it great that Heather comes to plays/recitals/awards ceremonies/school lunch?” It’s taken for GRANTED that I will do those things, but it’s not for Brent. We both work full-time. It’s a real double standard.
A-frickn-men. (I mean, Amen!)
P.S. I had to scroll past that picture in order to read. Yikes!!!