With all the chaos currently going on at Builder Mama Headquarters, I've pretty much been slacking off in the parental involvement department in terms of those pesky emails that I get several times a week from the Class Mother (sound of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir in the background) begging for us to send stuff in. Next year, there is no way in hell that I'm signing up for both the PTA volunteer list and the class volunteer list. No way. No. Freaking. Way.
School officially ends on June 13th and after the Field Day festivities of a week ago (including the requisite emails asking for a myriad of things like a cooler, ice, water bottles, etc.) I breathed a huge sigh of relief that the class parties, except for probably a party on the last day of school, were over. Done. Finito.
Yesterday, I get an email from the class mother at 4 PM telling her faithful minions that the teacher has decided to have a July 4th party on Friday. That would be this Friday, May 30th. Not July, May.
Uh, okay. So then the email goes on to state that she needs things like hot dog buns, napkins, and then the real kicker. "It would be nice if one of the PA kids' mothers would provide dessert for the class like cookies or cupcakes."
Oh it would be, wouldn't it? Sure, if you're not one of the moms of the PA kids.
PA stands for Peanut Allergic. And yes, my kid is PA. There are actually three PA kids in his class, one of which can't even be in the same room as peanuts or she goes into anaphylactic shock. It's serious stuff, folks. Thankfully, my kid is not put into a life-threatening state by the presence of peanuts, but we keep all nuts away from him with the hopes that by reducing his chance to exposure, he will never have to worry about dying because someone left a speck of peanut butter on the table.
The agony of all of this is that unless people have a kid with food allergies, or know someone like Monkey Man that has food allergies, they think it's no big deal. Seriously, I have had people tell me that I worry too much, that he'll grow out of it, and all kinds of other insane things.
No, he won't grow out of it. Yes, it's serious. Yes, it can potentially kill a person who is highly allergic.
After living with this for so many years, I've become kind of numb to the whole thing. You get so used to checking packages, to asking questions, to bringing your own treats to birthday parties, that it just becomes routine. And you really stop expecting people to understand how freaking hard it is and you just suck it up and do the best you can do.
You might ask - what irritated me about the email? The fact that we were singled out and made to feel like if we didn't provide the treats, the class would go without them. So it's either suck it up and spend the next 2 nights baking and decorating cupcakes, or be known as the mean mom who didn't bring dessert for the class. That's what it makes me feel like. Never mind the fact that I have to work both days, I had to drag a very unwilling dog to the vet tonight, have to shovel out the mess so Reyna can clean tomorrow, then tomorrow night I have a haircut right after work and will have to come home and deal with the cupcake fiasco.
It just rubbed me the wrong damn way. So sue me.
And I'm sure that Martha wouldn't turn up her nose at me for using, gasp, prepackaged cake mix and canned frosting, right? Right. Even she wouldn't be that mean.
On a somewhat related note, I had to drag a very unwilling corgi to the vet this afternoon. Seems as though he got a goopy eye about five days ago and although I've been putting his usual "goopy eye salve" in there it hasn't gotten better. Not to mention the poor guy has been kind of gimpy around the house lately, struggling to walk without a severe limp.
If you've seen a corgi, almost all of them are overweight unless they are show dogs. And yes, poor Rufus has been told today that he has to lose 15 pounds.
This is so not going to be fun. He already acts like we don't feed him enough and spends every spare second in the house scouring the carpet for any wayward crumbs or morsels of Oreo Goodness. He is downright pathetic already, let alone now being fed DIET DOG FOOD. He was glaring at the bag the whole way home from the vet with palpable hatred.