by Kelley Lindberg
This past weekend, we flew to California for a memorial
service for a long-time family friend. While we were there, we attended the
usual gatherings – at a couple of homes, the church’s fellowship hall, and
restaurants.
My son is 14 now, and I’m not nearly as paranoid about being
around food as I used to be when he was little and we’d go to these types of
gatherings, because I know he is careful now. Gone are the days when he’d stick
anything in his mouth without knowing what it was, fortunately. He’s old enough
to ask, to read labels, and to make judgments on his own.
After one dinner, as people were roaming the large guest
house and sitting in clusters inside and out, someone announced “Pie is ready!”
Since pie is one of my son’s favorite treats, I jumped up and headed to the
kitchen to make sure my son didn’t dig in before I’d verified it was safe. (I
hadn’t seen him in a while, because he’d joined a card game with some other
teens at the party.) When I got to the kitchen, my sister-in-law (his aunt) saw
me and said, “He’s already checked it out. The pie is safe, but the ice cream
isn’t, so he just got the pie.” I was pleased that he’d been so proactive and
responsible.
At the other gatherings, he wasn’t so lucky with the
desserts. There were brownies with nuts, Bundt cake with almonds, cookies that
weren’t labeled, and other delectable-looking bites that he knew better than to
even ask about. But there were plenty of other finger foods he could eat: fruit,
small sandwiches, veggie trays, and cheese and safe crackers. Because he’s only
allergic to peanuts and tree nuts, he was really only limited by the desserts,
which is usually the case and something he’s very used to.
So when we were flying home, I was surprised when I asked
him how he felt about the food at the gatherings, and he said “It felt like
there wasn’t anything there I could eat.” I pushed back a little and started
naming off the many things I’d seen him consume, from the sandwiches to deviled
eggs to strawberries to the wheel of Brie he gleefully ravaged. “Yeah, but I
couldn’t eat any of the desserts.”
That was it? Because he couldn’t eat the desserts, he lumped
the whole spread into “I couldn’t eat anything”? I was a little puzzled and
disappointed.
We always skip desserts when we go out. We seldom find
desserts he can eat at any parties, which is why I usually volunteer to bring a
dessert to potlucks. We know that desserts are the favorite hiding place of peanuts
and nuts, so it’s just in our habit to skip them. Dessert isn’t a common occurrence
in my house, either (sweets are an occasional treat, not an expectation). But I
admit that this time I indulged in the tiny brownies and macaroons myself,
while I watched him eat strawberries and Fritos. He hadn’t seemed to mind.
But apparently it bothered him. Which just goes to show that
the things I sometimes feel comfortable with are not necessarily the same
things HE feels comfortable with. While I was busy being pleased that there was
enough safe food at each gathering that I wouldn’t have to drive him to the
nearest store to get something else to eat, he was still feeling left out
because he couldn’t have the brownies or cookies.
I need to remind myself that teens feel things more deeply
that they show. They feel left out more easily than adults do. They can appear
mature and rational on the outside, while they’re really fragile and upset on
the inside.
While this doesn’t mean that I’m going to start packing
little baggies of safe cookies for him everywhere we go now (like I did when he
was a toddler), it does mean that I need to remember to check in with him more
often at functions like this. I need to make sure he’s feeling okay about his
choices, and that he’s not giving in to temptation. I need to let him know I
care about his feelings, and that I’m not callously eating a macaroon in front
of him just to make him feel bad. And that if there’s nothing there he can eat,
I promise to find him a solution so that he doesn’t go hungry.
It was a good reminder that even though he’s taller than me and
shaving now, he still needs to feel reassured, loved, and not forgotten. And he
still needs a safe cookie every once in a while.
I think I’ll go bake a batch right now.