You stocked up on glue sticks, notebooks, pencils, and fresh shoes. The promise of freedom is tantalizingly close. Each day, your kids return home with a backpack full of paper—emergency contact forms, PTA schedules, assignments. You quickly find yourself buried under more homework than they are in that first week. A routine will settle in soon, allowing you to reclaim your sanity.
But then, without warning, The Letter appears in their folder. Or even worse, you receive The Phone Call.
Lice.
For anyone who’s faced a lice invasion, just hearing that word can send a wave of dread through your stomach, and your hand instinctively reaches for your scalp. Breathe. It’s just a word—unless, of course, you’re currently experiencing an infestation. In that case, head over to the liquor cabinet and pour yourself a shot of tequila. Drink up and try not to panic.
Now, let’s delve into the 5 Stages of Lice:
- Denial and Isolation. Upon discovering your child has lice, your first instinct is to deny it. “Excuse me, Nurse? Did you say I need to pick up Ava because she has lice? That can’t be right; I wash her regularly, and she’s not some ragamuffin!” Rationalizing your fear is a natural defense mechanism to cope with the shock. After collecting your infested child and making an emergency stop for a nit removal kit, you pour yourself a glass of wine, shut off social media, and draw the curtains. You might not be seen again for the rest of the day—or the week, for that matter.
- Acceptance. Unlike the Stages of Grief, Acceptance is the second phase in the lice saga. As you sip your first glass of wine, you’ve applied the most potent over-the-counter treatment available, along with any natural remedies you could find online. Your kitchen now resembles a pharmacy mixed with a salad dressing lab. Your child is blissfully occupied on the iPad, and you think, “I can handle this!” When the timer buzzes, you usher her into the shower and pour warm vinegar on her head—supposedly to dissolve the nit glue—and grab that odd comb.
- Anger. This stage hits hard as you confront the reality of the overwhelming task ahead. Dinner? Forget it. You’ll bark at your partner to grab takeout because cooking is off the table. If you have other kids, well, today they’ll need to fend for themselves. My son quickly learned not to bother me after a few hours, and my frustration mounted. The wine buzz faded, leaving me tired and irritable. Still, I combed through her hair, and those pesky nits refused to budge (thanks for nothing, warm vinegar). Guilt crept in for feeling angry, and that only fueled my anger further. Eventually, I collapsed from exhaustion, only to face the same battle again the next day.
- Depression. If your family, like mine, has become a breeding ground for treatment-resistant lice, personal care becomes a distant memory. All attention revolves around nit removal. My daughter’s hair hung down to her middle back, and cutting it was not an option; she would never forgive me. My son and husband staunchly refused buzz cuts, too. Meanwhile, my own hair looked like a frizzy disaster. I couldn’t visit the salon for weeks, and evenings with my husband turned into nit-picking sessions in front of the TV. When he rifled through my hair and commented on my gray strands, let’s just say he lived to tell the tale.
- Bargaining. The final stage is all about negotiation. Early on, you might cling to your principles, thinking, “I’ll treat this naturally. I hear mayonnaise is a miracle cure! Maybe I can find a lice shampoo made from essential oils.” But by the end of this ordeal, you’ll throw money at anything that promises relief. We splurged on takeout, protective pillow covers, nit removal kits, and doctor visits. I typically shy away from harsh chemicals, but by week three, I found myself pleading with my nurse practitioner for anything that would help. I was ready to dip our heads in kerosene if it meant ending the misery. In a surprising twist, she handed me malathion. It claimed to be safe for humans—just don’t inhale it while applying. I had to wrestle my inner hippie into submission to use it, but it finally worked. I emerged victorious!
For those who think they’ve managed to avoid lice by sheer luck or special status, let me burst that bubble: lice are like mosquitoes; they’re drawn to warm heads and human blood. Anyone can be affected, regardless of how clean or dirty their hair is. If you’ve never had lice, consider yourself fortunate. If your child brings them home, don’t beat yourself up; it doesn’t mean you’re a bad or negligent parent. Reach out for help instead of hiding in shame. And if you’re the friend offering support, try not to recoil when they confide in you. Remember, lice don’t jump, so save the sympathy hugs for later.
There is life after lice. You’ll learn to groom again, and when people treat you like a pariah or share their “foolproof” prevention methods, resist the temptation to switch hats with their kids.
Yes, lice aren’t the worst thing in the world, but for those of us who’ve survived the ordeal, we wouldn’t wish it on anyone—not even our worst frenemies.
For more information on home insemination and pregnancy, check out this excellent resource from the CDC. And if you’re interested in DIY solutions, you can find all you need at Make A Mom.
In summary, lice are a common challenge for parents, but navigating the emotional rollercoaster can be just as tough as the physical battle. From denial to acceptance, anger, depression, and finally bargaining, every stage comes with its own challenges. Remember, you’re not alone in this!