It Was Head Lice Hysteria When I Met Her

Dear Parents, Due to a sudden and widespread increase in cases of head lice being found in our school, we are looking for volunteers to help combat the problem. Parent volunteers will be trained on what to look for and asked to help conduct regular checks in each of the classrooms.

Wait, what? Widespread increase? Head lice?

As my skin began to crawl at the thought, I instantly went into panic mode. My daughter had hair down her back, and I was already busy just trying to keep the dog and cat free of fleas. Now this? Motherhood is a lot of things, and the solid majority of these things fall into the categories of gross, horrifying, terrifying, and my personal favorite, “what the fuck?!” I can assure you, over the years, I have been largely unprepared for most it. But can you ever really be prepared for motherhood? I certainly don’t think so.

After a severe case of the heebie-jeebies subsided, I strapped my youngest into his carrier and marched down to my daughter’s school to volunteer, of course.

As I waited in the office, I noticed another young mom. She too, had a little one with her. Wonder what she’s in for, I thought to myself. The silence between us was fleeting, though, and we quickly began chatting. We had that instant, she-is-my-kind-of-woman, spark. The feeling you get, when, you know, someone just sees the world the same way you do. And she was funny. And she thought I was funny -- extra bonus! Laughter, along with a deep-rooted love for my children, and endless amounts of coffee were the only things that kept me going as a young mom. So a person with a good sense of humor was always welcomed. Turns out, she had a daughter the same age, in the same class, and received the same volunteer request as I did. I was not the only one who was equal parts grossed out and panicked at the thought of head lice. Let’s be real, it wasn’t just the thought of my daughter getting head lice, either, I was only 27 years old and still cared an inordinate amount about my long wavy locks. We were both there with the intent to eradicate head lice, as soon as we figured out exactly what it was.

Sitting in the office that morning, in the miniature, elementary school-sized chairs, staring at the crayola-colored alphabet posters, as we awaited our head lice assignment, it didn’t dawn on me that this was just the beginning of our friendship. That day, it started as “head check moms” but quickly turned into “room moms,” girl scout leaders, and field trip chaperones. This was the kind of friendship I didn’t even know I needed. She was another mom that got me and was willing to acknowledge the ridiculousness of being a parent. We were trying to figure it all out and make the experience as special and memorable for our children as we could. I needed someone willing to laugh at the chaos with me, and to eye-roll with at the PTA meetings. Did you know it is actually possible to spend more than thirty minutes discussing whether watermelon is a good snack for field day? Really. It happened. She was someone who was willing to acknowledge the “what the fuck” moments of motherhood with me. She was a mom with a child in the same classes, same activities, same groups, same friends, as my child -- meaning she was a friend I could do all that stuff with.

Looking back, some twenty plus years later, I can more fully appreciate how crucial that friendship was for me during those years. I have always had lots of girlfriends, most of whom are moms, but I didn’t have many great friendships with the moms of my kids’ friends. It wasn’t like we were enemies; we were friendly. I just never found that much in common with most of them. And that’s ok. My daughter and son picked their friends for themselves, not for me. I think that is how it should be. I also believe I had the right to choose my own friends, and I did. For me, at the time, it was so rewarding to have a friend that I truly connected with and enjoyed being around. Knowing that someone was going through all the same kid-rearing struggles, signing up for the same volunteer activities, and spending all her nights off at the same functions, made me feel incredibly understood. I had a buddy. A partner in crime. Someone to enjoy the day-to-day activities of carpooling, baking, crafting, cheer practice, and girl scout camping trips. She helped make the process of mothering more rewarding for me as woman, not just a mom. Who knew a friendship that like ours could grow from a head-lice-induced hysteria?