"Because I said so."

I'm going to steal from Jaimie's last post for a sec. She mentioned that she avoids using "Because I said so" as reasons for getting her kids to comply with her requests/demands/needs.

I remember those days. Once upon a time, I too had a 2- and 4-year-old. I had lofty non-coercive parenting goals that involved raising my children to feel like they were consulted and included in decision-making processes, and that our household decisions were reached more respectfully and collaboratively.

And then I realized something: I was giving my kids WAY too many choices. Even as I was asking them for their help with cleaning up after themselves, I was offering them the option to opt out of the process entirely. By allowing every situation to devolve into conversation, I was leaving myself too tired to assert that shit still needed doing, regardless of how they felt about it.

I was also encouraging them to question me every time I needed them to do something. Sometimes, there isn't a need to ask me why I need something done. Sometimes, you just have to do it because it needs to be done.

If I tell one of my kids I need them to strip the beds/rinse and stack the dishes/collect all the socks from the living room floor, "Why?" is not required, and if it's asked, "Because I said so" is entirely reasonable. To be fair, I generally prefer, "Because it needs to be done," but I'm still using a very closed-ended response that does not invite further debate.

We are one adult and two pre-teens. While I am far from a neatnik, you can well imagine that the bulk of the mess generated in my household does not originate with me.  As important as it is for me to have my children grow up to feel love and respected, it is equally important for them to develop a sense of responsibility regarding their own actions. I do not want my children to grow up with a sense of entitlement, that someone else will pick up after them/clean up their messes/make their lives easier. I think that does all of us a disservice. I also don't want that feeling of respect to be one-way. Yes, my language choices model to them what I hope to see them use with others. But my expectation of their respectful treatment of me is also modeling to them what they should be doing (and expecting from others) in the context of the bigger world.

Head lice: the creepy crawly gift that just keeps on giving

*scritch*

*scritch*

I've been bug and egg-free for days, and I cannot. stop. scratching. Or checking my bedding. Or freaking out every time I see a wee tiny black spot of something in the bathroom.

We have been visited by head lice, and we have been hit hard this time around. I'm still working through it with the kids, and trying desperately to not be sick in my mouth every time the comb brings up something new and crawly. You see, the chemicals MAY kill the bugs. So we try the chemicals. And they killed maybe 65% of the bugs. The others just got angry, flailing wildly as I pulled them from their hairy nests. Apparently, these ones are RESISTANT. Dear LORD. That's all we need. Resistant lice. These are lice that will continue to thrive long after the apocalypse, assuming we don't all lose our hair due to radiation poisoning.

The internet says that combing every day with a metal nit comb will also get rid of them.

Have you ever tried to comb through 15 pounds of hair? I'm serious. My son has more hair than a Wookiee. Now, imagine combing through that with a tiny comb, one dredded clump at a time. And the girl just screams incoherently at me every time I hit a snarl. There is a lot of screaming.

(i am UNBELIEVABLY itchy right now.)

I'm still finding eggs (though fewer and fewer) and live bugs (though not every day).  As disgusting as this process has been, it's given me the opportunity to spend more time with my son than he's let me in months. We're having conversations during our half-hour nitpicking sessions, instead of his hiding in his room, avoiding the world. My daughter has no end of topics about which she loves to chat with me, but my boy is very often too introverted for his own good.

In a roundabout way, I guess I have to be a little thankful for our infestation. Disgusting head lice, thank you for giving me the opportunity to engage with my kid. We both promise we'll continue to make an effort to connect daily even in your absence. Be gone now, please.