To the Mom who Commented on my Son’s “Giant bag of Skittles”

We were at our local playground. As we are almost every day, multiple times a day. My 3 kids were playing tag with some neighbor kids. As they do almost every day, multiple times a day. And my son had his d-bag hanging off his shoulder. As he does all the time, everywhere. He started going low from all of the running around. As he sometimes does, when he is more active than usual. So, out came the bag of Skittles to treat his low. I saw her. I knew a comment was coming before she even opened her mouth. “Hey girls, look at that giant bag of Skittles that boy has. You should go make friends with him!”

To the Mom who commented on my son’s “giant bag of Skittles”:

I saw you

I noticed how you were looking at the other parents at the park. You were judging and eye-rolling at everyone for one reason or another.

I see you all the time.

Not literally, we’ve never met. But I see versions of you everywhere.

I’m not new to this parenting thing. After 10 years and 3 kids, it’s not hard to see the “yous” of the world.

The people who feel superior to everyone else.

I tend to ignore people like you. I don’t see the point in engaging.

But believe me, I saw you.

I heard you

Not that you didn’t want me to. In fact, I’m sure you intentionally said it loud enough for me to hear.

Multiple times, in various ways.

It wasn’t surprising that you decided to make a comment.

And then continued to make more comments when no one reacted to the first one.

You don’t just want me to see you, you want me to hear that you’re superior to me.

I heard the judgment in your tone. I know you think I let my son eat handfuls of candy whenever he pleases.

That says far more about you as a person than it does about me.

But still, I heard you.

I know you

This is, very simply put, passive-aggressive behavior. There is no reason to comment on my son’s candy. No good reason anyway.

It’s one of my biggest pet peeves when people talk to me through my children or their children.

I have family members who do it, friends, and I’ve run into many many complete strangers, like you, who do it.

If you feel the urge to tell another parent something, to give unwarranted advice, at least have the courage to tell them directly.

Better yet, just don’t give advice unless someone asks for it.

You took 2 seconds to determine what type of parent I am. And that comment told me all that I need to know about you.

I’ve seen this before, I know you.

But did you see us?

You saw a mom who gives her child too much sugar.

But did you see me, watching my kids run around the playground?

Looking at my phone when an alarm sounded?

Telling my son, “your blood sugar is dropping. You should stop and have some Skittles.”

You saw a child shoving candy in his mouth. Candy from a big bag from the bulk section.

But did you see him, rushing to treat his low so he could keep playing?

Tall and lean running around the playground just like all of the other kids?

Carrying his bag, full of all of his other medical supplies? Because, that’s what those Skittles are to him, medical supplies.

No, you didn’t see us.

Did you hear us?

Not just the alarms, which you probably wouldn’t have heard from where you were standing.

Or me telling him that his blood sugar was dropping, I know people who don’t deal with T1D often don’t know what that means.

Did you hear us discussing how many Skittles he should eat?

Or that he should sit on the bench with me for a few minutes and wait for them to start working?

Or his friends, who know he has T1, asking if he was ok?

How about the concerned comments from his little brother who gets worried when he hears the alarms?

No, you didn’t hear us.

Do you know us?

I know you think you do. You look for the bad in people so that you can feel better than the rest of us.

And that makes me feel sad for you.

Because you don’t know us.

You’ve probably gone home and told people about the terrible mom at the park who was letting her child eat a bag full of Skittles.

But you missed the part about him needing the Skittles.

About him playing with his siblings and his friends every day at that park.

The carb counting, the insulin, the finger pokes, and alarms.

The mental math of blood sugar minus activity… plus food… minus insulin…

Gosh, that mental math is constant.

So I don’t have the time or energy to stop treating a low blood sugar and explain to you why my son is eating from a giant bag of Skittles.

But I don’t want to do that anyway. It’s not your business.

You don’t know us, and you never will.

And frankly, I’m ok with that.

Sincerely,

A tired T1D Mom.

Sometimes it’s the little things that are the most frustrating. Have you ever had a “mom at the playground” incident? What happened and how did you handle it? Let’s talk about it! And don’t forget to head over to the Carb Counting Mama Facebook page for articles, tips, and discussions about T1D!