The Secret Churros

When we talk about diabetes, we usually talk about Jack. But, the truth is diabetes affects our entire family. This afternoon, Gregg took Jack to a birthday party, which, by the way, was a drop-off party...except for Jack. There is no dropping off and leaving Jack anywhere, unless he's going to be under the supervision of someone who's been trained in diabetes management, like at school. So Gregg and Jack went off to Pump It Up to whoop it up and celebrate. The moment they left the house, Madeline asked, "Can Max and I have candy?" In comparison to other kids we know, our three eat less sweets. Is that because of Jack's diabetes, or is it because of our desire to give them good nutrition? It's both, I suppose. But when Jack's not around, we tend to relax the rules. Being the softie that I am, I often feel badly for the ways in which Madeline and Max are restricted because of Jack's diabetes. For instance, at the zoo last week, all of the kids asked for snow cones. That was the last thing Jack needed. A snow cone would have wreaked havoc with his sugars for the rest of the day. It just wasn't worth it. I inquired about sugar-free snow cones, but was told they didn't offer any. We try our best to allow our kids to enjoy treats at special events and outings, but not at the expense of Jack's health. Getting back to today...I caved. I let Madeline and Max each eat a packet of Gushers fruit snacks, something that is normally reserved for treating low blood sugar episodes. Then, I took them to Sam's Club to pick up some groceries. "Can we get a churro?" Madeline asked as we entered the warehouse. I caved again. I've never bought a churro before, but today diabetes guilt had set in, and the next thing I knew, I was at the cafe ordering two churros. I rationalized their snack by saying, "Sure, you can have a churro, because Jack will get birthday cake." All the while, I was thinking, "What am I teaching my kids here?" Life is not fair. Why should they think that just because Jack would eat birthday cake, they deserved a churro? So then I tried to back track. "Well, it's not just because of the birthday cake," I began. "It's because of Jack's diabetes, isn't it?" Madeline interrupted and finished my sentence. "She totally gets it," I thought. But always trying to be careful about the ways in which we frame the disease, and feeling exhausted and not coming up with anything better to say, I gave a wishy-washy non-answer and redirected the conversation. "Well, sort of...let's go sit down while you eat." With cinnamon and sugar covering their hands and faces, Madeline and Max devoured their treats. "This is so good!" Madeline exclaimed. "Yeah, so good!" Max echoed. It made me sad that something as simple as a churro is a big deal in our family, but it is. Even though he enjoyed a piece of birthday cake, Jack would be devastated if he knew that Madeline and Max were allowed a treat as rare and as special as a churro. "Don't tell Jack about your churros," I said to Madeline and Max. Once again, I questioned what I was teaching my kids. What was the lesson here? Lie by omission? I'm always directing them to "tell the truth" and cautioning them about secrets. But there I was telling them to keep the truth a secret. "No, it's okay. Go ahead and tell him, if you'd like...no, no, don't tell him," I went back and forth. Madeline realized I was struggling. "Mom, don't worry we won't say anything. Jack would be upset if he knew we actually got a churro." She gets it. She knows I want her to do the right thing. She knows I'm all about doing the right thing. She also knows I want to protect Jack's feelings. He is such a sensitive guy, and he already has enough situations that we can't control that leave him feeling negatively toward his disease. So this started a whole discussion about how things just aren't always black and white, how sometimes we just don't know what the right thing to do is, but still need to try our best, how we need to be sensitive to others and so on and so forth. "Some times, it's tough to be the mom, isn't it?" Madeline asked. "Some times, you want to do the right thing, but you just don't know what that is." She gets it. She's only seven, but she totally gets it. Thank goodness, she gets it.