11 October 2011

Jealousy and Domestic Enemies

This morning, one of my favourite blogs ran "Domestic Enemies of the Allergy Mom". When I first saw it on FB, I thought "WOO! They finally posted my post!" It was not my post. I'm really entirely too disappointed. Someone else wrote the same one. And they posted hers instead! WAH! Consider, this was their reaction:

Ok. To say that I love this is to miss the fact that I FUCKING LOVE IT SO MUCH THAT I WANT TO LICK IT'S FACE. I adore it. You are a genius and hilarious and an amazing writer.
We'll run it in mid-September and push your blog because you have a gift.

So now clearly they love Portia more (and I will admit, her post ROCKED), so I'm going to post mine here, just as it was going to run there:

I'm Luna, I blog over at Feminist Christian Socialist. It's more of a Mommy blog than I ever intended, but whatever. If readers don't like it, they know where the back button is. I'm a SAHM Mom to 3 very allergic minions: Snap, my 16 year old daughter; Crackle, my 5 year old son; Pop, my two year old son. Between them, they can't eat gluten, dairy, corn, soy, nuts, eggs, high fructose fruits, berries, food colourings, and celery. That's just what they can't eat. Never mind the list of things they won't eat (for fun, Snap won't eat fruit. At all. Ever. Regardless of bribes, threats, or guilt trips). So I cook and bake. Everything. We haven't seen restaurant food in over 5 years. Yes, you are allowed to feel pity. However, this also means we haven't had to eat at McDonalds or Burger King in that time. Bring on the jealousy, baby! Anyway, Allergic Moms have our own set of Domestic Enemies. Enjoy.

The Birthday Party: Now, these are Domestic Enemies of all Moms, near as I can tell. Between the sugar and the "Bobby gots a new transformer and you said that there are no new transformers!" and the goodie bags that were clearly designed by mothers who hate you, these are pitfalls at the best of times. However, to the Mom of the Allergic Kid, birthday parties have their own set of deviously designed traps. Birthday cake? Full of gluten. Out of the question. So my kids take their own, clearly made of sawdust, cupcakes. This leads to two problems: 1) "MOM! It's not fair! I want the disgusting Barbie cake of poison too! Everyone else gets it!" Yeah, but everybody else doesn't get projectile poop and demonic rages. Imagine your kid licking the McDonald's PlayPlace slide and eating pixie sticks. This is gluten to my kids. Only the effects last 5 to 12 days. Seriously. 2) The other kid's mother. The look on her face is clear. You are a TERRIBLE mother. You are going to hell if you don't allow your kid the cake. You are clearly also saying she is the worst mother ever because she allows her kids stuff you don't. Never mind the whole allergy thing. That is entirely in your head.

The In-Laws: Did you know that if no one in their family has allergies, that your kids don't either? It's a scientific fact. At least according to my sister-in-law. Furthermore, it is also proven fact that "a little bit won't hurt". It's true. Just ask my mother-in-law. These people are out to prove that there are no genetic flaws in their family. Their genetics would clearly trump any of yours, because superior genes always win. I think it's something in the sperm that finds the weak mother's genetics and goes all Chuck Norris on it. That the children's father also has allergies is something they simply don't acknowledge or at best say, "Well, he didn't have allergies when he lived with us!" Yes. It's true. You have allergy cooties. Be extra careful of this class of enemies. They will sabotage you in an attempt to prove that you're crazy, stupid, or lying. TIP: Never send the kids to stay with them unless you love cleaning up poop and puke (from the ceilings). TIP: If you must send the kids to stay with them, invite them to stay with you for a few days upon the kids' return.

The Grocery Store: The grocery store, besides being loaded with stuff the kids can't eat, is also full of other pitfalls. I'm utterly convinced that the bakery department is run by Satan's Minions. The little old ladies who act like you've copped a feel or asked them what they did before the Great War if you say no to the lovely little cookie they're offering your child. And of course, this means that there are countless children running around with cookie crumbs on them, making the entire store a minefield. If you happen to have a child who mouths everything, you're hosed. Go home and cook with the dandelions in the yard or something.

The Expert
The Expert is the person you are chatting with who tries to feed your kid a cracker and then gives you a lecture when you explain that they can't eat it. Sometimes, this overlaps with The In-Law. Go find a t-box and some chocolate if this happens.

The Expert loves to tell you why no one can be allergic to whatever they're offering up and that it's good for everyone. It usually starts out fine. "Really? Celery? I've never heard of a celery allergy. Your child is just lying to you. She just doesn't like it." I like to respond with, "Yeah, and the hives she gets on her face and lips are just truly awesome acting. I'm thinking of taking her to Hollywood." That never seems to go well, and deteriorates into, "It must have been something else. Have you tried it since? Sneak it into her food and see if she notices." How about I sneak my size 7.5 Birkenstock up your taco instead?

Schools and the Very Bad Teacher: A subset of The Expert. A good teacher is a gift from God. A bad teacher? Welcome to hell until next summer. The bad teacher is the worst of all Domestic Enemies. She's a know nothing know-it-all. She will sabotage you to prove you wrong. She will doubt your every move. She will make you the bad guy. If you think you've run into this Domestic Enemy, RUN. Get a transfer, homeschool your kid, move to Vancouver, anything. If you're already in Vancouver, I'm sorry. You're screwed. 

The Very Bad Teacher will let your kid play with gluten-filled play-doh and then smugly inform you that they can't ingest gluten through their skin. It says so on the internet. I suggest sending her links to feces fetish sites. You're going to have to deal with poop, after all, why not her? Also, this will do wonders for your reputation with the PTA, and no one will ever again ask you to be the room mother or chip in on the gift for the teacher.

The Very Bad Teacher will hand out Oreos to all the kids except yours, because of course, yours are allergic. She will then say, loudly, "You can't have any! Your Mom said so! No, I don't know why. I think she's just mean or something. Possibly crazy." I recommend signing her up for spam. Reply to the Nigerian scams with, "While I am not in the position to help you at this time, please email Mrs. Ditchpig at the following email address. Do not take no for an answer. She always says no the first 20 or 30 times."

Did I miss any?