Consider a Career Shift? Lice Knowing You

A few weekends ago I had the pleasure of going on an all-girl’s weekend with a group of friends sans children.  The social coordinator of the trip has a marvelous house on a remote island in the San Juan’s.  It was lovely and the weather, which can be iffy in early spring, cooperated beautifully.  The company could not have been better and the food and libations were nothing short of gourmet.  Let’s just say the only thing any of us suffered that weekend was a hang over and a few extra pounds.  That was until late Sunday afternoon on the drive home.  

I was in the front seat driving when one of the women in the backseat of the car took a call from her husband.  He gave her the report: their youngest child, she has three under the age of eight, had lice….again.  This wasn’t the first time the subject of head lice had come up that weekend.  We had spent at least an hour discussing the topic over gin and tonics the previous evening; my friend in the back seat’s three little darlings had had it no fewer than three times.  

As I write this I am hesitant to say, knock on wood, that our family, (three boys aged 6 to 17) has not yet suffered from the Seattle School lice epidemic.  That said all of this lice knowledge is new to me.  

Apparently there is a whole arduous regime that needs to be followed in order to rid one’s head and house from the nasty mites.  And there is quite a stigma that goes along with it. “When we found out we had it, we felt like leapers,” said one mom while throwing back the last of her gin and tonic.   “No one wants to play with a child who has lice.”  

Another mom in the group told the story of going to see a hairdresser in the neighborhood who would only see her little boys “covertly.”   The stylist and business owner demanded that my friend come in after hours and through the back door, lest her customers find out that she had been harboring and helping lice victims.  

After my friend in the backseat hung up with her husband she was distraught; it was as if all the Kum Ba Yahing, from the girl’s weekend had suddenly vanished like a glass slipper.  Nit picking, sheet washing, and itchy children filled her brain before we hit King County.  

One of our friends, an experienced and organized mom who had her own lice infestation story to tell, was riding shotgun next to me.  She suggested, with a practical tone, that our friend call in the professionals. “I have heard they will come to your house,but it’s not cheap.”  “Well, hell,” lice mother responded.  ”At this point I will pay anything!”

A few days later I ran into my friend in the neighborhood, she was surprisingly yippity skippity—hardly the image of a woman who had been slaving over a comb and picking out nits (or is it nats?).  “We did it, we called in the professionals,” she said proudly, with a bright smile stretching from one ear to the other.  “It cost $500 but it was worth it!” 

Who knew?

Apparently there is a business, yes a certified business called Lice Knowing You .   I have heard some crazy business ideas floating around lately but this one really takes the cake.  Talk about filling a niche.  The online brochure states: As the premier (are there others? I wonder) head lice removal company in the Seattle area, we arrive discreetly (thanks for that) with all the necessary items (hmmm. what might that be?) to make head lice removal as quick and painless as possible.  During the removal process, Lice Knowing You will provide free consultation on taking care of your home to ensure that the head lice will be gone for good. .….All of our consultants are trained in the most up to date methods of head lice removal.  Our bilingual staff speaks Spanish, French, Japanese and of course English. Our staff consists of teachers (special ed and general ed), medical professionals and counselors.

God bless her…see what women can do!   What a relief!

Weather Days from Hell

I have a bee buzzing under my trendy newsboy bonnet in the form of the proverbial Seattle “snow day.” It’s every working mother’s nightmare. The robo call comes at 6:30am, “Hello, this is a message from the Seattle Public School District. There will be no school today due to snow.” And if the powers that be are hedging their weather bets you will get the call—“Hello, this is a message from the Seattle Public School District. There will be a two hour delay today.” They might as well say, “This is the Seattle Public School District and your day is Fu#%ed.”

Now, if you’re not from Seattle you may not get this but we don’t have bad weather here. Oh sure, once in a while it snows so mcuh that we can get a sled to go downhill. But this happens about once every two years. Our snow days come in the form of one to two inches of very wet sno cone slush. In my book this is no reason to close school. I think we should have a “four inches or bust” program. I have been told that the knee jerk closures are due to our country’s litigious nature. “Imagine if someone fell on the way to school,” they say.

We are robbing our kids of the opportunity to forge ahead in inclement weather all because the fear of being sued. What will our children be able to hold over their grandkid’s heads when they’re old and gray? “I walked a mile to school in snow up to my waist. Wait; hold on…no I didn’t. When it snowed I stayed home, watched cartoons and tortured my mother while she was trying to get work done on the computer.”

This year we have had four snow days and five late start days. In our house the child care is pretty evenly divided between my husband and myself. My more flexibile work schedule, however, usually means the task of caring for our son on a snow day falls smack dab in my lap. I’m just thankful I don’t punch a clock and work for the man. Try telling your male boss that the ½ inch of melting snow on the ground means you won’t make it in to the office. You might as well just say “I can’t come to work because I just started my period.” Maybe there is a reason why dads get promoted more than moms do. Maybe the snow day in Seattle is really just a male conspiracy to keep working women barefoot and pregnant—with frustration.