Delta40
03-15-2011, 08:50 PM
Guilt is a choice. One wears it like an emblem so other people will step back and give them space. So when I say, I have not been in a place which allows me to review short stories, assure me it is ok. Good. Let us move on.
When I peel sheets of skin from my shoulders and arms, the feeling is exquisite. I mean sure, sunburn is painful but all that flaking skin coming off in layers is a human curiousity that excites me. I would quite happily remove flaky bits from other people but one knows the boundaries. For me, it is family only. Keep it in the family and don't share the practice with others. If you do, well I can only say it is crossing the lines of decency.
Imagine a family of monkeys sifting through each other and picking out the nits. Its a bonding time. We all know that. Hasn't David Attenborough rammed the solidification of animal society down our throats to the point we might possibly draw parallels here? I don't know. I like picking out those bugs while watching another repeat of Law & Order. My kid sits there, thinking she is special because I would go to so much trouble to groom her. 'I feel like a furry little monkey Mum! Just don't eat the bugs ok?' We laugh as I hoo hoo like an primate and pretend to gobble the lice up. When the show is half way through she announces 'My turn!' I love her touch. Her careful inspection. She combs strand by strand, layer by layer in the hope of striking gold and exclaiming 'You've got nits! Woo hoo!' She has seldom found them in me but she has always been optimistic.
She doesn't tell her friends though. It is like some dirty secret outside of the home but inside, we really do bond, giggle and use the microscope to study the offending lice in the bowl. Fascinating really but anywhere else, I get the impression it is not a great practice. How can it not be? Grooming, health and even an element of scientific interest. 'How many legs can you count? Six, no maybe eight. Is that its antenna?' What is so different between monkey grooming and human grooming? One is out in the open and naturally acceptable. The other? Filth. Apparently, if you're a good parent, these sorts of things will never happen.
I worry that we take it for granted that peeling the sunburnt skin from a loved one and picking out head lice while watching a re-run is not the norm.
What are you going to do about it? Call Protective Services?
She goes to bed feeling good. Firstly on account that her head lice are not bothering her as much. Secondly because her mum made it a fun time to spend together. I get the satisfaction of keeping an infestation under control and laughing at silly things which are only there to make us enjoy the time we spend together more.
The school sends home a note banning her from school for hygiene reasons. Well, gee thank god they didn't notice the ringworm on her back. There would be hell to pay if that ever came to light. So she cannot return unless she is prescribed a recommended hair lotion. I am supposed to take her to the doctor and get the prescription. It is like a thick, rank smelling tar which she must keep in for as long as she can bear it. The shower rains down on her pubescent body and after several minutes, she screams and says it is burning her scalp. I read the instructions. Keep in for a minimum of 5 minutes but only two have passed and she is starting to cry. Her red soaked eyes tell its own story when I say 'You have to keep it in. That is what the instructions say' All she can see here is a betrayal of trust. She relied upon me to look after her in a loving way, spend quality time with her. Help her manage those unmentionable little critters that appear in our lives as well as shedding old skin for new.
Somebody has to do it don't they? Afterward, the foaming tar gets in her eyes and she lashes out, her small breasts quivering as the water trails along her developing curvature. It is too much for her to bear. For me. I towel dry her stinky hair. 'I'm sorry. It wasn't fun at all.'
'I don't need this **** in my life right now Mum'
'You're right. Shall we do this the fun way?'
'Only if we get to watch NCIS instead of Law & Order'
'It's a deal!'
She gets into her pyjamas and I pop corn. She sits on the giant pillow in front of the armchair while I use the nit comb to sort through the strands of tar scented hair and groom her as I did in the past. She laughs when my hand runs lightly up the nape of her neck. 'I'm ticklish. Stop it!'
The next day, the shampoo is in the bin. It isn't worth it. We share a bond, my daughter and I, revelling in dead skin, crawling lice, massaging tender muscles and cheesy jokes. How else will we spend our evenings?
Both of us agree no bottle of tar can replace what we share. Is it wrong? Or am I missing a vital point of family management vs the pharmeceutical industry?
When I peel sheets of skin from my shoulders and arms, the feeling is exquisite. I mean sure, sunburn is painful but all that flaking skin coming off in layers is a human curiousity that excites me. I would quite happily remove flaky bits from other people but one knows the boundaries. For me, it is family only. Keep it in the family and don't share the practice with others. If you do, well I can only say it is crossing the lines of decency.
Imagine a family of monkeys sifting through each other and picking out the nits. Its a bonding time. We all know that. Hasn't David Attenborough rammed the solidification of animal society down our throats to the point we might possibly draw parallels here? I don't know. I like picking out those bugs while watching another repeat of Law & Order. My kid sits there, thinking she is special because I would go to so much trouble to groom her. 'I feel like a furry little monkey Mum! Just don't eat the bugs ok?' We laugh as I hoo hoo like an primate and pretend to gobble the lice up. When the show is half way through she announces 'My turn!' I love her touch. Her careful inspection. She combs strand by strand, layer by layer in the hope of striking gold and exclaiming 'You've got nits! Woo hoo!' She has seldom found them in me but she has always been optimistic.
She doesn't tell her friends though. It is like some dirty secret outside of the home but inside, we really do bond, giggle and use the microscope to study the offending lice in the bowl. Fascinating really but anywhere else, I get the impression it is not a great practice. How can it not be? Grooming, health and even an element of scientific interest. 'How many legs can you count? Six, no maybe eight. Is that its antenna?' What is so different between monkey grooming and human grooming? One is out in the open and naturally acceptable. The other? Filth. Apparently, if you're a good parent, these sorts of things will never happen.
I worry that we take it for granted that peeling the sunburnt skin from a loved one and picking out head lice while watching a re-run is not the norm.
What are you going to do about it? Call Protective Services?
She goes to bed feeling good. Firstly on account that her head lice are not bothering her as much. Secondly because her mum made it a fun time to spend together. I get the satisfaction of keeping an infestation under control and laughing at silly things which are only there to make us enjoy the time we spend together more.
The school sends home a note banning her from school for hygiene reasons. Well, gee thank god they didn't notice the ringworm on her back. There would be hell to pay if that ever came to light. So she cannot return unless she is prescribed a recommended hair lotion. I am supposed to take her to the doctor and get the prescription. It is like a thick, rank smelling tar which she must keep in for as long as she can bear it. The shower rains down on her pubescent body and after several minutes, she screams and says it is burning her scalp. I read the instructions. Keep in for a minimum of 5 minutes but only two have passed and she is starting to cry. Her red soaked eyes tell its own story when I say 'You have to keep it in. That is what the instructions say' All she can see here is a betrayal of trust. She relied upon me to look after her in a loving way, spend quality time with her. Help her manage those unmentionable little critters that appear in our lives as well as shedding old skin for new.
Somebody has to do it don't they? Afterward, the foaming tar gets in her eyes and she lashes out, her small breasts quivering as the water trails along her developing curvature. It is too much for her to bear. For me. I towel dry her stinky hair. 'I'm sorry. It wasn't fun at all.'
'I don't need this **** in my life right now Mum'
'You're right. Shall we do this the fun way?'
'Only if we get to watch NCIS instead of Law & Order'
'It's a deal!'
She gets into her pyjamas and I pop corn. She sits on the giant pillow in front of the armchair while I use the nit comb to sort through the strands of tar scented hair and groom her as I did in the past. She laughs when my hand runs lightly up the nape of her neck. 'I'm ticklish. Stop it!'
The next day, the shampoo is in the bin. It isn't worth it. We share a bond, my daughter and I, revelling in dead skin, crawling lice, massaging tender muscles and cheesy jokes. How else will we spend our evenings?
Both of us agree no bottle of tar can replace what we share. Is it wrong? Or am I missing a vital point of family management vs the pharmeceutical industry?