children – Page 2

Grossss……Your Kid Has Lice!!!

Lice, head lice. Just saying the words can give you the gross out willies. Lice are worse than cock roaches and rats for some…and a lot more embarrassing.

A couple of weeks ago I got the dreaded phone call from the mom of one of my son’s friends. Lice! Sound the alarm…LICE! We went on lock down, washing sheets, spraying couches shampooing and combing with that wretched little fine tooth comb that is the Scarlett Letter of lice. Comb comb, comb. Then tap, tap tap the comb in the sink and squint to see if any horrible little bugs are visible. And if there’s one there’s going to be a million, hours of combing and probably tears of frustration and pain.

Even if my family is declared clean and lice free, the simple act of buying lice shampoo is humiliating. I’ll drive across the county so no one knows me in the store. I wouldn’t want word to get around in our little town. I don’t feel that way when I buy mouse traps or bug spray.

Once, a few years ago we went through a horrible lice week. There was a student in school who wouldn’t take care of the problem and kept re-infecting an entire 3rd grade class. The school couldn’t force them to fix the problem. We took care of our family. We washed and combed and combed and combed. Then, that weekend decided to get hair cuts. One of my children was ejected from Master Cuts cause I’d missed a few. Hot tears of shame in the mall. To this day my child remembers that as one of the most embarrassing and humiliating moments in life. Screw You Master Cuts! (Not really. Who can blame them.)

My husband has a special problem. If I have a sore throat he’s sure he has strep. If I have a headache, he has a migraine. If I say the word “lice” he starts scratching and itching and picking. During this recent episode I checked his head twice. Nothing. Still he had to give himself the entire treatment two times…and still he was itchy.

Good news for me. I believe my hair has been chemically altered for so long those little buggers couldn’t stay alive on my head.

If there’s a family out there who claims they’ve made it through 12 years of school without a lice episode. I’m gonna say you’re lying you just drove across the state line to buy the shampoo and comb.

Just writing this has me all creeped out. I have to go now and have someone check my head.

Awesome and Bizarre Stuff God Blessed Me With

I’ve been blessed with some awesome and bizarre stuff. God loves me, I know because he’s given me a few things most people don’t have..

1. I have really great legs. Yeah, I work out a lot and do hundreds of kicks in Taekwondo ever week but I have my mother’s legs. Mary and Lex got them too. We have great definition and generally don’t get cellulite, fat thighs or big hips, even when we put on ten or twenty pounds. (Sadly though, our butts are kind of flat). Because of my mom, we don’t store fat in our thighs. And we have nicely shaped calves and ankles, no “cankles” for us or chubby knees. Our fat goes to other places and that’s wonderful because It’s really hard to exercise your ankles and hips. Our legs are a genetic gift from God and my mom and I am thankful.

2. God blessed me by making me a McDaniel. And three of my children are absolutely McDaniels too. We’re still waiting to see if Sandor develops the gift of friendly bull shit. Being a McDaniel means we can snuggle into any group of people from senators and presidents to garbage men and rednecks. We can happily visit with just about anybody, we like almost everybody. It’s very difficult to make us feel out of place, because we know how gifted and wonderful we are. Oh, and we have an absurd amount of confidence so we assume people will love us, because we are McDaniels. Generally, McDaniel’s are also magnificent story tellers. Some people say we are natural liars, but we like to think of ourselves as gregarious raconteurs. We like to put a positive spin on things.

This is where I should mention my husband, Alex. I’m blessed with a man who puts up with us even though he often times doesn’t understand. he rolls his eyes a lot and wonders what we will say next.

3. We laugh all the time. This is also part of the McDaniel blood line. We howl and giggle and hee-haw with laughter even when things are really really bad. We laugh when we are miserable and broken hearted because God blessed us with the ability to see something funny in almost every situation, from cat poop on the new carpet to family funerals. Thank you Jesus. Again I have also been blessed with a husband who doesn’t always understand why the hell we are laughing but he doesn’t tell us to shut up.

4. God has blessed me with the most wonderful and naturally happy children on the planet. They all like and take care of each other. They are all playful and respectful, smart and really really fun to be around.

At least ounce a week (I’m not making this part up no matter what I said in the previous paragraph) someone asks me how I raised such wonderful and smart kids. (so far I haven’t had to write a single check for college) I just say “thank you they actually came delivered that way”. And it’s the truth.

We have plenty of flaws. We tend to be a little vain, with terrible handwriting and none of the kids are over the top athletes. Hard work is required for their on field successes. But for the most top I am blessed beyond words.

I have a theory why God has given me four such extraordinary children. He has a good plan. But I’ll save that story for another day and just be thankful for what I have right now.

The Dangers of Gangsters and Chirdren In The Morning

Mornings with kids are beautiful and vulnerable, like an elegant land mine. If you step over it, there’s no problem. If you step on it you’ll loose a leg.

My ego often times rides on morning success. If the forty five minutes before the bus arrives goes well, I’m convinced everyone will have a bright and shiny day and I get to drive to work feeling like a successful mother. If the morning is ugly, filled with tension or tears, I end up clutching the wheel, convinced everyone will have a terrible, awful, no good, day really bad day

Mornings are like see-saws made out of Legos. Too much pressure and the whole damn thing falls apart. When Mary was little she hated socks and having her hair brushed so mornings were really treacherous.

Now it’s Lexie, Sandor and me in the morning. Lexie keeps herself on track. She’s sleepy but focused in the morning. She has a high school routine and it’s important not to derail her train. Left alone she is excellent as long as there is hot water and cereal. I just have to say the right things when she asks about belts, shoes, shirts and hair. Crimped or straight? Pony tail or crazy insane curls? Cowboy boots or Pumas?

I try not to give her jobs in the morning, instead I make a list and leave it on the kitchen table. At the end of the list there are lots of xxxooo because I love her so much, especially when she unloads the dish washer.

At nine, Sandor is an entirely different creature. He’s a sloth like animal who doesn’t like to eat first thing in the morning. He doesn’t want to do anything except hug for the first hour.

In the morning, Sandor sees his clothes but I have to remind him to put them on. He sits in front of his bowl of cereal but I have to remind him to eat. He finds his shoes but I have to insist he puts them on.

One tactic I use on Sandor to wake his fuzzy brain up is silly, but works. I set up goofy games on the kitchen table or leave a puzzle out with only two missing pieces.

This morning I sat on the edge of his bed. “There’s a secret message on the kitchen table for you.”

“What is it?” He opens his eyes.

“Not telling, you have to check it out yourself.”

“Who left it?”

“I don’t know.”

He staggers out and laughs when he sees my stupid message made with Scrabble letters. It says, “Yo Gangsa Face”. I leaveextra letters out so he can add to the note. He’s a nine year old boy so, of course, he adds the word “butt”. The word “butt” makes everything funnier.

Mornings can be tricky but I have skills and sometimes manage to avoid the land mines.

*What’s your secret in the mroning? Comment or e-mail me. I love that. hampoland@gmail.com