Birthday Bawl

One of the girls in Jack's class invited him to her birthday party, which took place yesterday.

On Saturday, when we were at Chick-Fil-A with Jack's buddy Max, the birthday girl's mother called and left this message.

(Yes, I actually transcribed the message word for word, so that I could blog about it.)

"Hi, this is B. Thank you so much for RSVPing to come to M's party. I just wanted to let you know in advance that I have ordered a cake from Albertson's, and it's going to be chocolate with strawberry filling and a cream topping. If Jack needs something different, I would be so delighted to pick him up a different type of cookie or fruit or anything that he would like to make him feel very included. I'll be going to the store tomorrow morning before the party. So just let me know. I just want to make sure he's comfortable and he's able to participate. We'll only be ordering cheese pizzas at Peter Piper Pizza. So hopefully, he can have a wonderful time. Thank you again for helping us to celebrate M's birthday."

As I listened to her message, hearing her kind words and the warmth in her voice, I began to get all teary-eyed. I was so taken back by her thoughtfulness. I don't know her and I don't know how much she knows about Jack or diabetes, but I thought her offer was just the nicest thing.

I called her back, thanked her and assured her that Jack would be just fine eating the same things the other guests would be eating.

The next day, when we arrived at the party, I introduced myself and thanked her in person. I wanted her to know just how very much I appreciated her kindness. I started to tell her how I was so blown away by her message that it made me teary-eyed, and as I was saying the words "teary-eyed," I suddenly felt my eyes begin to sting. The tears were about to roll again.

"Don't cry! Don't cry! Don't cry!" I told myself.

I'm generally not a crier...not in public, any way. It takes a lot for me to cry, but yesterday, I couldn't help myself. 

My eyes weren't just a little watery, as they were when I was listening to the phone message. They were flooded. I was momentarily overwhelmed by my emotions. I couldn't help myself. Down came the tears, not for long, but long enough to make this other mom uncomfortable. She looked away from me and down toward Max, who went to the party, too. She changed the subject, asking Max if he'd like a piece of birthday cake.

"Oh, you're such a sap!" Gregg chuckled, trying to make light of the situation.

"She gets this way when it comes to Jack and his diabetes," he said to the birthday girl's mom.

Gregg made me laugh, which helped.

Yet, I felt like such an idiot, standing there in a very crowded Peter Piper Pizza, with Jack's classmates and their parents buzzing about, talking to this woman I'd never met before, crying, because she showed some kindness to my son, who means the world to me and whose disease pains me.

Fortunately, I was able to quickly pull myself together and stop the waterworks. Still, I felt embarrassed and I'm sure she thought I was nuts or an emotional basket case.

The rest of the party went just fine. Jack had a great time and ate the pizza and the chocolate cake with the strawberry filling and cream topping (the combo of which sent his numbers into the 300s for hours--ugh!) .

It was a typical Peter Piper Pizza birthday party, but one I won't soon forget.