venting

A was terribly sick today and I couldn't be happier.

You see, it was JUST food poisoning!  Usually, in this house, vomiting is followed by an epi pen and a visit to the ER at best.  So when she is down with a normal virus, I'm unreasonably upbeat. 

I won't minimize the pain that she's going through though.  It's terrible to see her face sunken in and her lil' belly disappear.  She hasn't had an appetite in the last 24 hours and is bearing the brunt of her sickness with a quiet strength.  She's been tempered by her past experiences. 

So when she finally mustered the energy to whisper, "I want Chipotle," I sprung into action!  The drive there was pleasant and unrushed, completely unlike the madness that precedes a dash to the hospital.  I was in one piece and I was happy.  The sun was still out at 7:00 p.m. and my baby was going to be alright.  A little pulled pork and lime cilantro rice would be the medicine she needed. 

I got a great parking spot and reached the door at the same time as another patron who was just as excited to be at Chipotle as I was.  We walked in and then we saw the line.  He swore under his breath.  The line was 10 people deep and only getting longer.  And I knew that my mission just doubled in intensity. 

My orders take time.  You don't want to be the person behind me when I make an order at a restaurant for my girl.  I'm meticulous about making sure they get it right.  Because one miscommunication could lead to a lifetime of regret.

I geared myself up for the order and went over it in my head.  I've almost mastered the art of saying a lot in just a few words.  We used to struggle in the beginning to be succinct yet accurate when communicating about A's food.  There were times when we'd get frustrated at each other for saying too much or too little but we have had plenty of practice since those pilgrim days.

I put on my game face and got ready for my order.  Mr. Potty Mouth was first and his order was quick.  "I'd like 3 hard tacos, with brown rice and steak."  The girl wasn't paying attention and began to scoop white rice on to his tacos.  "No, Miss, I wanted brown rice."  The girl was sorry and she put the white rice that touched the tacos back into the container.  Darn.  My night just became exponentially harder.  I needed that white rice to be "clean" and now it wasn't.  If my initial order wasn't enough to annoy her already, now she was really going to be pissed off.

It was my turn and I began my well-rehearsed speech.  "Hi, my daughter has life threatening food allergies.  Could you switch out your gloves?  I'd like a side of rice and a side of pulled pork."  She quickly changed her gloves and began to scoop the rice into the bowl.  She was clearly disinterested in my plea for a safe meal.  "Excuse me, I was wondering if you had some new rice that you could take a scoop from."  She turned to the counter behind her and removed the wrap off a new container and began to fill the bowl with plain white rice.

Now, normally, I would just go with this because as much as servers hate special orders, I hate asking for them.  But white just wasn't going to cut it today.  A had specifically asked for the lime cilantro rice because it was her favorite.  "Mama, please could you get me the Chipotle rice?" I was going to advocate for my girl and I knew it wouldn't be fun.  "Excuse me, I'm so sorry but is there a new batch of lime cilantro rice? I would really appreciate it if I could get some of that."  The girl was not amused.  "This is all we have."  The manager, overhearing our conversation, walked over to check on the hold up.  He asked if there was something he could help me with.  I explained the situation and he reiterated that he could just give me some rice from what they already had.

Now I had two people who thought I was being one of those uptight North Shore brats that just had to have it my way.  What I really wanted to tell them was that I was ghetto.  That's right, they could drop my food on the floor, pick it up, plate it, and I would still eat it.  If my daughter wouldn't teeter on the edge of life each time she consumed the wrong thing, I would have probably taught her to do the same.  But, no, life didn't work out that way. 

By this time, the 6 young twenty-something guys in line behind me got really quiet.  This was noticeable because prior to that they were having a loud and unappealing conversation about nothing.  It was ironic that now I was the one having the weird conversation and I almost wanted to turn around and say, "Bet you didn't think I could be more obnoxious than you!"   

After assessing the growing lines and the fact that I was most likely not going to go away without the special rice, the manager quickly turned around and asked the cook to make the rice.  It took all of 10 seconds. During these 10 seconds the girl decided to look at me and roll her eyes.

And that was all it took.

"I'm so sorry to have to bother you with these special requests, it's just that my daughter could die if you're not careful."

"I'm really so sorry. I'd just rather be safe because she has a history of anaphylaxis."

"I apologize for making you have to take extra precautions.  I just don't want my daughter to have to end the day in the hospital."

I think she got the point.  I paid and made my way out of there but I was mad.  The girl felt inconvenienced, but you know what?  So did I.  Every single time I order food, get meat at the deli counter, send A to school, leave her with a babysitter, go on a playdate, have a playdate at my house, I have to have an inconvenient conversation abut life and death. 

I know I need to learn to accept people who don't understand where I'm coming from just as much as someone else might have to learn to accept where I am coming from.  I just didn't expect the battle to be so wearisome.

I'll keep it up though, not because I'm innately tough but because the moment I gave birth to her I joined the ranks of all the super women before me who had to walk through life wearing the most vulnerable part of themselves on the outside of their bodies-the heart.  A and G are an extension of me-my living, beating heart exposed to the world and I will do whatever it takes to protect them even if I have to stare down 100 eye rolls and tweak 1000 meal orders.

Bring it.