Pediculosis and Introversion

So, Mom and Dad came up last Saturday to watch the kids while I tagged along with Dave to his Society of Actuaries conference in National Harbor right outside DC.  I had been a bit stressed the week before trying to get everything sufficiently ready for them to take over.

And then, Abby came downstairs right before we needed to leave for church on Sunday and asked, "Is this what a lice looks like?" (I know, I know, louse is the singular, but this was prior to my children's familiarity with all the terminology associated with this lovely affliction.)

"Oh, no!  It probably is.  Mom, can you look at Andy's hair?"  Because Andy had been scratching his head for a couple of weeks and then gradually his siblings had begun complaining about itchiness, but my untrained eye was unable to detect any living organisms feasting upon them.  However, once we all hovered over Andy, employing Dad's pocket knife magnifying glass and another magnifying glass I dug up, we were able to see the little crawling bodies.

And so, church was out for most of us--Dad and Mom lugged Abby off to teach her fourth grade class.  And I shuffled Andy and Jack off to the nearest Urgent Care.  Needless to say, we had an eventful day, shampooing everyone and sitting about for 10 minutes while the shampoo did its magic, washing out the shampoo, fine tooth combing, washing bedding, stuffing pillows into trash bags.  It's very handy to have an extra set of adults along for all this excitement.  We managed to get a little shampooing assembly line started.  And Jack and Andy sat like little apes, picking nits out of each other's hair.  A proud, proud moment.

But the best thing was that I got to leave all the stress in Mom and Dad's capable hands while I jaunted off to National Harbor for three nights of complete indulgence (but no beautiful sisters to provide scintillating conversation).  Actually, I didn't leave quite so jauntily, and I felt bad when the school nurse said Andy wasn't sufficiently nit-free to return to school on Monday.  But Mom and Dad handled it all more competently than I would have and olive oiled their hair and found this awesome louse comb that they gleefully related to me about all the carcasses they removed.

So, the break was super relaxing, if a little boring and exhausting because I occupied myself with exercising and then walking around the tiny town the hotel was in.  (By contrast, my poor parents lived a high speed, exhausting few days.)  But the reason I really started writing this was because I decided to attend one of the luncheon's at the conference and got to listen to Susan Cain, the author of Quiet:  The Power of Introverts.  She was a fascinating speaker!  And I got home to find that my requested copy of the book was ready at the library.  So, I've started digging in.

And that got me to wondering if I really am an introvert.  In some ways, I definitely am--I can handle lots of alone time, I generally only think of what I want to say after the time to say it is long gone, I prefer small groups to large ones.  But on the other hand, I like the stimulus of conversing with people, and in my isolated world, I feel much happier on days that I interact with people.  Plus, I tend to feel energized by parties rather than exhausted, like my husband who needs to come home and have quiet time.

So, I took the Myers Briggs test again, and yep, they think I'm an introvert (a moderate introvert with a 44% preference to introversion).  Actually, I was an INFP, which is what I've always been.  Although, you might be right, Rebecca, about my P quality, since I'm only an 11% preference there.  Maybe it's just a fact that the older you get, the more set in your ways you become.  So, maybe you all should take it, and see what you are now!