Going Nuts: A Pity Party

Learning to live with a child with a peanut allergy has a learning curve.  Somehow, after 4 years, I am only now rounding that curve.  I guess it has to do with Noah being involved in more things and being around more people with the start of school, soccer, trying new churches, and definitely my joining two moms groups that involve many playdates.

It was at one of these playdates recently that I pretty much got my hand slapped for asking if we serve the 15+ kids something besides PBJ.  And it's not because I think no one should get to eat peanut butter if Noah can't.  It's because if the peanut butter is on any kiddos hands and comes in contact with Noah, or even a toy that Noah then picks up, the allergic reaction could be life threatening.  Life and Death, here.  I'm talking about a life-threatening allergic reaction. Sort of a big deal. Turns out I was mistaken to think that should matter among friends.  I was answered with how difficult that would be to know what else to feed the kids.  I was also told that the time for me to be specific about Noah's peanut allergy would be if I hosted my own playdate.  And oh, by the way, we had another mom with a kid with food allergies and she just didn't come to playdates if those foods were being served.

Ok.  Ouch.

What I took from that was that they would rather eat the pbj and have me take a hike with my kid.  Nothing says welcome to the group like "we prefer peanut butter over people."

Lesson learned.  After I cried in fury and outrage at the simpleton thinking and the insensitivity I perceived, I began brainstorming where I went wrong.  Maybe there is an etiquette that I missed.  It's not impossible that I need to be told that it is rude to ask a hostess to alter the menu.  Ok, then.  It's possible I am the problem.  While I don't think it's a lot to ask to have jelly sandwiches instead of pbj, I guess it steps on toes and that is just something I have to accept.  And the more I think about it, I would rather accept that than put myself out there to be offended at every turn.  So next time I will just have to RSVP "no" if peanut stuff if going to be around.  Or offer to bring something myself  for all the kids to eat that doesn't involve peanuts.  I realize that could get to costing me more, but I'd rather do that than miss out entirely or put people out by asking them to consider my son.  And to be fair, he is mine.  So his peanut allergy is my concern, not the world's.  I get that.  If I'm being honest, before Noah I am pretty sure I would have selfishly thought that same thing - "Why is it my problem that your kid has a food allergy?"  I am sure my self-righteous logic would have seen it that way.  Now that I see it from the other side, I see how ugly that take on the situation looks.

What can you do?  Get mad at everyone?  No.  I can't live that way.  So I just have to get creative and find gracious way to educate people about the severity of Noah's peanut allergy.  And I have to be ready to be counted out when others don't want to have to consider that. And I have to prepare my heart to do so without taking offense.

It just sucks to have to think so hard for something that most other people don't bat an eye at.  Noah's teacher called me from school today to see if he was allowed to have the birthday cookies the rest of the class was having.  The ingredients indicated that there may be traces of peanut.  I had to tell her Noah could not have them.  It's just too risky.  And I could picture his sweet face waiting for Mrs. Cindy to get off the phone only to hear, "No, Baby, you can't eat these with your friends."  I told Mrs. Cindy that Noah would be fine with it and that he is used to not getting to eat what everyone else eats.  But still I sigh with discouragement for him.  And my eyes well up at what a big boy he is about being different in that sense.  I told Mrs. Cindy I'd bring a box of special treats to keep at school for Noah to have when there are b'day snacks and stuff that he can't eat.  Really, I should have thought of this idea already. 

See?  Now I am crying about it.  Why am I crying?  Look - I threw myself (and my baby) a pity party!

It's not a big deal.  It's just that today, this week, this month I am just tired of having to be the downer, the reality check, the party pooper at school, at playdates, at church, at soccer games, at parties.  My checking every morsel of food for peanuts is just a killjoy for others.  I know that.  But it's not like I can stop.  It's not like I can make the allergy go away.  And it's not like I can rest easy in his not eating risky foods.  I have to be vigilant about how others eat those foods in his presence.  That's where people get annoyed by it, I'm sure.  That is the point where I have become an imposition on them.  But my hands are tied.  We are talking life and death here!  Over a silly peanut, I know, people.  But it is what it is.  Should we just hole up and never be a part of a community?

Today, I am just tired of anticipating and experiencing the bristling irritated responses people can get when I have to bring it up.  It just sucks.

So I guess now I have to pick myself up and try to focus on the good.  The kind people and friends who have considerately arranged for Noah's peanut allergy to not have to exclude him from his friends and the fun.  The open-minded people that do check ingredient labels and make choices based on them just for Noah's sake.  Noah's soccer coach's wife, the team mom that brings snacks after the game, HCA for having a peanut free zone (although clearly today, another parent ignored that), a parent in Noah's class last year who often brought snacks, Sunday school teachers, family members (mostly), his teacher who will scramble today to find him a special treat in place of the cookies.

Noah, you are such a good boy about your food limitations (and your allergy shots, too, for that matter).  You don't pitch a fit or cry or pout.  You just accept it and don't make a big deal out of it.  Can you teach me that trick?  I thought I had it down pat, but today I feel a little weak.