Earlier this week a flyer went up at day care. Pizza party this Friday–please bring $3 to cover the cost of pizza for all the kids. This isn’t the first time it’s happened and it certainly won’t be the last. Since I can’t ask the day care not to throw parties centered around food my daughter can’t have (but why am I not allowed to be selfish for the sake of my child’s well-being?), it’s not exactly an easy predicament to be in.
The last time this happened, about six months ago, the party was mac and cheese themed. I mentioned to the day care director that I felt bad my daughter was going to see every kid in the facility eating the same food except for her. I had planned on bringing her own pasta, but she would undoubtedly notice the difference. The director responded by saying, “I’m sure she won’t even notice.” I told her that was a load of bullshit, though in much more sophisticated language. At two and three years old, toddlers are obsessively interested in what other kids have and are doing.
So here we are again. This time it’s a pizza party. Luckily there’s a pizza place not too far from day care that makes vegan pizzas with Daiya cheese. They deliver, so I thought I’d just pop online, order using my debit card, and have it delivered to the day care. Only once I got to the order checkout page did I discover you can only pay with a card when physically present at the restaurant.
I’d had plans for my lunch break and now I had to scrap them so I could go pick up the pizza, pay for it, and drive it to the day care. I was annoyed, not with having to accommodate my daughter but with the day care for even having a damn pizza party to begin with. I took an early lunch, picked up the pizza, and made the delivery.
When I walked in, all the toddlers were outside except for Emily, who was inside using the potty. She came out of the bathroom when she heard my voice and she was SO HAPPY to see me. She didn’t even know yet that I’d brought her a pizza. I spent a few minutes with her and then headed back to work. As I drove away, my frustrations melted entirely. I try really hard to look at the bright side of these situations. I got hugs and kisses from my daughter in the middle of a workday, and she was ecstatic over the surprise visit from mommy. And not only did she get to have pizza like all the other kids, but she got to have a custom pizza all to herself with her favorite toppings. Who really won in this situation?
That’s right. My kid did.
Except for the fact that all the kids got Creamies for dessert, and I wasn’t aware of this until I delivered the pizza. Emily got an Otter Pop instead but that’s not the same as ice cream on a stick.
This weekend is our baked cheese trial. I’m nervous as all get-out. Emily’s been having some eczema flare-ups (albeit small ones) and she had some green #2s in the potty this week, which are both things we experienced when she was first diagnosed. So we’ll see. I’ll have Benadryl handy and I won’t get my hopes up.