first thoughts
Angela Lehman-Rios
As winter ticks closer, I realize I’m living on borrowed time. We
haven’t had a case of head lice in this family for more than three
years.
The last time I spotted eggs in my older daughter’s hair, I went on a
panicked rampage that ended with scissors. First mine, then, the next
day, a professional’s. My daughter came home, vindicated, and told me,
“She said she’d cut my hair only if I promised never to let you touch my
hair with scissors again.”
Irony bit me twice on that occasion: First, I discovered that cutting
her hair actually made it more difficult to comb, since it was harder to
clip it out of the way as I worked through sections of her scalp.
And she turned out not to have had a case of lice at all, which is why I
had been combing and combing without finding the lice I was convinced
were there.
Several months later, I learned that not all nits are fertile—in fact,
some research suggests that as many as half are not (which is why as
many as half of all parents are frustrated with no-nit policies at
schools). I had probably seen a few infertile eggs from an unfortunate,
lonely louse who fell off or died before she had a chance to do her part
in the grand lice plan of world domination.
Two infestations before that false alarm, I had decided to never use
lice shampoo again. We had done a set of applications that seemed only
moderately useful. Besides, when you read the fine print on the box, you
realize that (a) the stuff doesn’t kill the eggs and (b) you’re going to
have to comb anyway.
Yes, the idea of putting noxious chemicals on a child’s head made me
uncomfortable, but I didn’t really think a few doses would cause any
more harm to a young brain than, say, jumping in a moon bounce with 10
other kids high on cotton candy or watching a couple hours of the Disney
Channel.
I was more concerned about creating treatment-resistant super-lice.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think that in the history of human vs.
insect, despite escalating chemical use, the insects always win.
So my lice-attack kit is limited to a fine-toothed comb, hair clips,
bright lights, a diverting movie, tape—for snagging the live ones—and
scissors for snipping individual, nit-laden hairs. (Should the need
arise this year, I plan to use a small, sewing-kit-sized pair. Even so,
please don’t tell the hairdresser.)
Nit-picking is laborious and time-consuming. You and the lice-infested
head at the tips of your fingers become rocks in the stream of time
while the world rushes on around you. (Or else that’s just the sound of
the washing machine.)
You may be driven to commit acts of lunacy. And your child will, at some
point, rebel. But for us, so far, it has worked. Ask me again after I’ve
had two kids with lice at the same time.
There’s no easy answer to the head lice problem, just as there’s no
end of advice on treatments or opinions or school policies related to
lice and nits. But a little knowledge goes a long way.
Here are some things I learned too late:
• Nits more than ¼ inch from the scalp are either infertile or already
hatched. To tell if a nit is loaded, look at it with a magnifying glass.
If it’s transparent and shrunken, you can either stop worrying or start
looking for something with legs.
• Head lice do not jump or fly.
• Females live up to 30 days on a host and can lay three eggs a day.
• Freezing is lethal to eggs, nymphs and adult lice. But, for heaven’s
sake, don’t— No! Don’t even think of it!
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