Showing posts with label nits. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nits. Show all posts

Monday, 12 July 2010

A little bit on prejudice and crawly creatures

Prejudice - "A preconceived belief, opinion or judgement made without recourse to reason...most commonly used to refer to a preconceived judgement towards a people or a person because of race, social class, gender, ethnicity, age, disability, political beliefs, sexual orientation or other personal characteristics..." Wikipedia.

We all know that prejudices have existed since, well, rather a long way back. I mean, who knew that the Good Samaritan would have been, so, erm, 'good'? He sent shockwaves right through the New Testament, so much so that five-year-old children are still making plays about him now.

What concerns me though is that 2000 years later, we are no nearer to a lack of judgement, tolerance or grace in our everyday lives.

Do let me give you a little example.

On Saturday my husband and I took the two children to a birthday party. It was in a soft-play area where children not associated with the party were also allowed to play.

As we watched Renée and Edie frolicking with an older girl, my husband, who, it should be known, is the world's biggest snob (when asked whether he would have been attracted to me had I been christened Sharon or Tracey* rather than Emily, he simply smiled and said "well it would have been a lot harder"), turned to me and whispered,

"Ew, look at that girl. She's all dirty. And I bet she's got nits as well."

It has to be said, I may have laughed. But I may also have said something along the lines of,

"You can't say that. Don't be such a bloody snob. She's no more likely to have nits in her hair than any other child here."

And that, I thought, was that.

Except, of course, it wasn't.

Cut to the very next morning and Renée just so happens to scratch her head...

Rather too many times for me not to go a foraging in her hair. And what do I find? A whole host of tiny little blood-sucking parasites.

I think my husband was rather too smug for my liking.

You see, the problem with bloody prejudice is that on occasion our original assumption turns out to be correct, thus reinforcing whatever prejudices we may have had.

I give up. At least on the bit where I try to persuade my husband to stop being such a snob.

But having spent all day yesterday picking the little suckers out of both my children's hair, I may just give up on the Mothering front too.

*Absolutely no offence meant if your name just so happens to be Sharon or Tracey. But don't expect my husband ever to fancy you.

Wednesday, 25 February 2009

Loose ends

I'm feeling slightly exhausted this evening (nothing new there), so instead of entertaining you with my endlessly amusing anecdotes on parenting, I'm just going to tie up a few loose ends instead...

1. I finally managed to secure a cot for my friend's cotless baby. I did entertain the idea of a princess canopy over Edie's bed (thanks for all the suggestions), but she snuggles down so happily in her cot that I just couldn't bring myself to oust her from it just yet. If she's still in her cot by the time she goes to school then I may yet revert to the Princess canopy! I'll keep you posted on that one. Anyway, I was so ecstatic at having solved the problem (turns out another friend of mine has a spare cot) that I even offered her £20 for it. After all, I thought, what's £20 when it means you can sleep at night without feelings of guilt caused by thoughts of a poor child sleeping in their pushchair? If you've got no idea what I'm talking about, then I refer you to 'Cot Dilemma'. The thing is, no sooner had I happily delivered the news, when my friend (the one with the baby, not the cot) delivered her own news...just that day they had been given another cot!!!! Crikey, what's the probability of that happening? You wait all day for a bus and then two come along together... Anyway, I'm pleased for my friend...at least both our children will now be able to sleep at night. The only other thing is...I've now promised her a highchair!

2. Despite the nit scare yesterday, I have had a thorough check of 3 scalps in the house (neither Chloe the cat nor Marion the au pair were keen for me to look through theirs) and I'm pleased to say that no crawly creatures or offspring have been detected.

3. Car mended (although I have been hearing various suspicious rattly sounds). Am ignoring them.

4. Dad/Grandpa mended (although he now has terrible tooth ache and blisters on his feet from a new pair of shoes). There's just no telling the oldies.

5. Despite my over indulgence with the pancakes yesterday I still managed to lose some weight!! Of course I hate to boast, but seven pounds in seven days here I come...

Tuesday, 24 February 2009

Pancakes and crawly creatures

So the day has finally arrived - for Renée it's almost as thrilling as Christmas - or at least that's how it sounded when she woke up in a frenzied state of excitement. Her first words, before 'morning Mummy' or 'quick I need a pee pee' (which are amongst the usuals) were 'It's Shrove Tuesday today isn't it Mummy?' Er, yes it is I thought, but I don't remember mentioning it yesterday. Of course, I know it's Shrove Tuesday, but that's because I'm an adult and I just know these things. Renée, on the other hand, is still only 4 (although she has just started saying she's 4 and a half as though that's a different age altogether). 'How do you know it's Shrove Tuesday then?' I asked. 'Did Mummy mention it yesterday?' 'No I don't think so', she replied. 'Miss Anscombe told me at school'. Aaaah...I see. So that's what you get from sending your child to a church school. I thought I'd see how far I could take it...'So, er, what does Shrove Tuesday mean then Renée?'. 'It means we eat lots of Pancakes, silly. Don't tell me you didn't know that Mummy.' Now that's more like it.

Anyway, of course I knew it was Pancake Day. Our French au pair has been dying to make pancakes, or 'crepes' since the day she arrived. Apparently they're Marion's speciality, so we've had today's date marked out for her to do her stuff since early January. Even I'm excited. Having said that, back at the beginning of the year I didn't forsee that I would be on a diet this week. Darn it. I might have to sacrifice the diet just for one night. Besides, what are diets for, if not for breaking? I'm just imagining cheese and ham and eggs and nutella and maple syrup and lemon and sugar and lots and lots of them...yum....told you I was weak when it came to food!

At the school gates this morning, just as I was in the middle of silently salivating over pancakes (please bear with me - I had just eaten half a grapefruit), I was stopped by another Mother. 'Does Renée want to come round and play this afternoon? I'll do some pancakes for them'. There and then my cheese, ham and egg bubble burst. I had to think fast. 'Well we've kind of got this French thing going on - Marion's going to make pancakes round at ours. Why don't you come to us instead?' 'Yeah, no problem', she replied, 'sounds good'. Phew I thought... 'Although there is one slight problem', she said. 'Yes?' I said. 'Well...' she hesitated... 'Yes?' I repeated. I was on tenterhooks. I could feel my voice getting higher. 'Well, I just have to warn you, my daughter's got nits.' 'Nits?' I said...And my mind was cast back to 6 years old, head over the bath, shaking out all these funny crawly creatures with my Mother looking on, hysterically (actually she probably wasn't in hysterics at all because she was good with those sorts of things but sometimes your memory is suited to what you want to remember). And a hysterical Mother makes for a funnier memory.


So it was nits and pancakes or nits and no pancakes. 'Never mind', I said, they're all bound to get it one day. Come over anyway.' My stomach had won of course. The other Mother then went on to assure me that she'd spent over an hour with the nit comb the night before and that little A was bound to be clear after all. But as I stood there, speaking with her, I suddenly felt the urge to scratch. And so I did. But the more I scratched, the more I wanted to. What is it about psychological itching? Anyway, I'm sure the pancakes will be delicious. The nits I'm not so sure about. I'll keep you posted on that one.