Lice to Know You

I had these really good friends until we all got lice. I guess you never really know who your friends are until your heads are all crawling with bugs.

Our kids first got lice over Christmas vacation. We treated it, and then when they went back to school in January, they got it a second time. We treated it, retreated it, retreated it, the lice retreated and then we were lice-free. All our friends had gotten lice. Apparently there was a school-wide lice epidemic.

Some friends told us when their kids had gotten lice. Some friends said nothing. There are apparently many varieties of lice disclosure, and one of our friends had a complete yelling fit at me about her lice dilemma, which I alarmingly realized, she was aiming all at me. I had given her lice. She said. Basically.

I was so shocked at being yelled at by another mom, a friend, I stammered. The lice we had had was so mild. Because I didn't know how volatile she was, I even told her "Oh, we had lice again too," meaning a few scattered lice eggs, after millions of treatments, after scouring the heads daily, hourly, meticulously.

Apparently this other mom's battle with lice had been difficult, and she was impossible to help. Offers of help went in her ears and came out as yelling obscenities at me. This became not a person I wanted to know. Shocking, really. Her need to blame and find a culprit ("Who gave you lice in your class?" was one of the yelled questions to me, to which I actually found myself wracking my brain, thinking of each kid in my daughter's class until I realized wait a minute, who the hell KNOWS who is the lice giver??? There were no name tags. But dammit, she wanted a nametag.) I will accept the nametag, if I am the culprit. We did have it. Yes, I guess I should have told her.

I guess because our battle had been so tame compared to hers, I had not reached freak out stage about lice. I hate lice, I hate the treatment of lice, but it is fixable. I had given a birthday party after our last retreatment of lice, when we were lice-free. I gave the party knowing we would not be infecting anyone with lice.

Yet this parent would not hear me. That's what it comes down to. We were friends. She'd have to trust me. Am I the kind of person who would give a birthday party when my kid's head is crawling with lice? What do you think?

So these little bugs maybe saved my life. These little bugs gave me the chance to experience this person's ravaging warfare on our friendship. Maybe if there'd been some humanity in her handling of the situation, some sunlight could have broken through, some way to salvage the stomping she was doing on a tenuous, cultivated (what I thought was) friendship.

She claims disclosure is the problem. That everyone should yell it from the rooftops when they have lice, to everyone. I realize now I should have told her. Why don't I talk to anyone?

In my heart, I know I acted responsibly. I love all our kids and their friends at school. I didn't endanger anybody.

The first few weeks after the lice explosion of my friend, in the street in front of the school, I tried to make it better with her. Then a second explosion of her anger in front of the school, and I walked away. I missed her for a few weeks, since we had hung out together quite a bit. I re-examined our friendship. I remember that she had done this in the past, erupted at me about some (what she perceived) injustice to herself. I went to my core and there was still the same seeds of me inside. I am still someone I trust with kids. And their hair. Her yelling scared me, I froze, I stammered, but later I realized being attacked makes me freak out. Later, I realized, wait, my actions were fair and true. I am still me. She made me doubt that I am a fair and true person. Wow.

So, lice to know you. I love her, love her kids, love her family. I have to be careful, that's all. With some people, their fingers hover shakily over the trigger. And it might be aimed at you.