I’ve been looking to so many adventures and milestones with my new status as a mom. This was not one of them.

Things had been going so well with our new family, my husband and his young teen daughter he’s been raising alone since her mom passed away five years ago.

There’s been no teen drama, mood swings, lashing out.

So what could possibly be the problem, you ask?

It started with an itch. A single itch. Within a few weeks, my new daughter was scratching and gnawing at her scalp like a puppy trying to dig up a buried bone.

Nervous twitch? Dirty hair? I admit it, I was kind of clueless as I looked through her hair and didn’t see a thing.

I know you more experienced moms are way ahead of me on this one. Sadly, it took the child pulling bugs out of her hair and asking, “What do you think this is?” for me to pick up the phone and call the pediatrician.

Only 30 seconds of explaining the symptoms for the doctor to whisper the word that sends terror through parents across the country.

Lice.

Yes, Lice. The word brought back memories of my college roommate calling years ago when her three daughters each had lice three times. That third round put her over the edge, she was sobbing as if they’d received the worst medical news of their lives. “I know it’s not cancer,” she cried. “But the treatments, the combing nits, the sterilizing the house. I (sob) don’t (sob) know (sob) if (sob) I can do it one more time.”

So here I was with my turn at the lice battle. “What should we do?” I asked the pediatrician in a panic. Over-the-counter treatment? A prescription?”

“You really want to know what to do?” she said in a somewhat hushed voice, like she was going to tell me some back-alley secret.

“Yes, please,” I begged.

“Go to a service,” she said.

“A service?” I asked confused.

“Yes, a service,” she explained how for a small fortune, you can pay people to comb through your child’s hair and hold your hand through all you have to do to rid your house of the dreaded enemy, lice.

I took one look at my new daughter’s thick hair cascading past the middle of her back. At that moment, I didn’t care if there would be no holiday presents this year or this kid didn’t go to college, the checkbook was coming out.

That’s how we ended up at Lice Ladies, two wonderful gals who pick through kids’ hair all day long with a smile on their faces.

“Here, Mom, you get in the chair, too,” they said welcoming me over.

“Oh, no, that’s not necessary, she’s the one who itches, not me,” I insisted.

They plopped me down in one of the chairs and started combing through. “Yep, you have it, too!” Of all the gifts I’ve dreamed of receiving …

As they combed through both our hair I combed through the many e-mail, facebook messages and tweets from friends and strangers. Everyone, it seems has a strong opinion on how to fight lice. “Tetri oil,” “No rosemary.” “Pay for the service.” “No, It’s a rip-off!”

It was all enough to knock this new mom off her confidence block.

In the midst of the lice war that involved treating everyone in the family, checking every child who has come through our home in recent months, sterilizing, scrubbing, freezing anything that might’ve come in to contact with those little buggers, my husband made the mistake of innocently asking me, “What’s on your agenda today?”

“Agenda?! Agenda?!” I replied like a crazed animal. “There’s no agenda! There’s only lice!”

With all due respect to the infuriating little buggers who the Lice Ladies told me have been around since the time of the pharohs, I do believe we have won the battle for now. Today, we are “lice remission.”

Thank you to all the moms who held my hand through this one, assuring me, “This too shall pass” and “Congratulations! You now officially get your ‘Mom Card’ stamped!”

Now, if I could just get over that feeling of my stomach dropping every time I see my kid itch.

I’m learning — sometimes, an itch is simply an itch.