Okay, let me be perfectly honest about this post.It is not based on hours of research as much as it is based in frustration and my need to vent.I happen to think my “venting” may be enjoyable to others. So here it goes…
I wake up this morning, later than usual, and the girls are already up.9:00 a.m. I hit the shower to be at church in 1 hour, 20 minutes.
9:23 a.m. Emma says, “Mom, don’t forget, I need [gluten-free] cake for the birthday party today.” Shoot… I think.I need to get this baked before going to church.
9:25 a.m. Emma, my 6-year-old daughter Grace, and I team up and get the cake mix going.The cake is in the oven by 9:30.Whew.Now I can finish my hair; check my email; get the kids’ hair done and teeth brushed all before the cake is done.
10:00 a.m.Cake is ready and cooling; we hit the door and leave for church.
Fast-forward to 1:30 p.m.The cake is beautiful.The icing looks lovely, spread neatly in perfect rows.A gluten-free cake that is perfectly irresistible.So irresistible, our almost 6-month-old black lab gets on her hind legs and starts eating the cake on the counter!At the time, I am trying to get some writing done so I didn’t hear anything; my husband is also on his computer when he stops because he hears this noise in the kitchen. I can only describe it as an undefinable, but sloppy kitchen noise – and then my husband looked.
“She’s eating the cake isn’t she,” I say.He confirmed my fears with a quick head nod.
I got up and I was mad.The dog looked at me, still on her hind legs, owning one of the guiltiest looks I have ever seen. Right now is the moment when I’m so angry yet so “woe is me” all at the same time!The first thing that crosses my mind is “Dog…do you have any idea how expensive that cake mix is?”I grabbed her by the nape of her neck and pulled her into her crate that she hasn’t used in a month. How could the dog have the nerve to target the gluten-free stuff? I clean up the mess, exasperated by what just happened.
It is funny how even though years have passed since Emma’s diagnosis, the grief and the self-pity that comes with this diagnosis (even for the parent), came flooding right back.Some of my self-pity thoughts went like this: “I went out of my way to get this cake made in time for the party.”“I can’t just go to convenience store and pick something up for her…now what???”“Why couldn’t the dog have eaten the loaf of regular grocery store bread instead?”I was able to salvage one lowly piece of untouched cake, so Emma is still safe for this party.I guess I’ll just have to accept that days like these may happen from time-to-time, and those feelings may suddenly be raw again.Plus I will certainly need to do more to protect the food.Of course then there is the thought, “Maybe the dog just should have not gotten her nose on the counter at all.”Hmm…But that’s a whole different subject.