Yes, We're Lepers

I believe in karma. Oh, I so believe in karma. If you don't know, according to Lama Surya Das over at Beliefnet (to which, if you don't mind, I'm gonna pause for a moment to give a shout out to mah boyz over at Beliefnet, "Rock on, Lenten fasters! Whoop! Whoop! You dawgz!") "karma is an ancient Sanskrit word that means causation, cause and effect, conditioning, or action and reaction."

In Heather words, karma is gonna come bite you in your ass for being a dumb ass bitch. I should know. I've been bit so many damn times, I ain't got an ass. Seriously. I have no ass. Why else would have I bought those over priced True Religion jeans? You ever priced those things? Way too much money. But they give the illusion of an ass and so I spend. Making me an ass. In more ways than one. If only karma could bite me on my big, old, post partum jiggle belly. I would be taut and tight and bikini ready without the aid of a surgeon. Ah, but then it wouldn't be karma then, would it?

Anyway, I know all about karma because I've spent a good portion of my life, both child- and adulthood being a dumb ass bitch. I've taken the bigger slice of pie and left the empty ice cube tray in the freezer. I've opened my mouth and allowed venom to spew forth, sometimes even when uncalled for. I once even blew off a friend who sat rotting in a Korean jail for almost a year (a long story for another day). But I have never, ever intentionally excluded a child or made another child feel bad about themselves -- even when I was a child myself. In my book, if you do that, you are lower than dog shit. And I love to see that karma come stick up the joint.

A few weeks ago, Reilly Kate was sick with a stomach virus. I mean SICK. That poor child spent three full days laying in bed, not eating, hardly drinking, and talking in a barely audible whisper. By her fourth day, she was ready to leave the house if just to get some fresh air. She was so weak that she couldn't even walk. I was really against her going out, but she insisted. She just wanted to get out of the house. I put her in the stroller and we all went out to meet my brother Darrell for lunch. After lunch Darrell joined me and the kids for a quick trip to the commissary to pick up some Reilly Kate friendly sick foods (read: Jello and bananas).

As Darrell and I debated the convenience of ready made jello versus the economy of the powdered make your own kind, Reilly Kate perked up and squeaked, "Mommy! There is one of my friends from school!"

Before I go any further, allow me to explain something (this may be one of my self diagnosed ADD flare ups again, but I swear, it is pertinent to the story). The last couple of months have been rough on old RK. She had a lot of trouble fitting into her new school. It was an entirely new experience, with new faces, in a new country. Plus, all the kids had their cliques already established as she joined in the middle of the school year. We went through day after day of crying and fits starting when she woke up in the morning and culminating in all out screaming when I'd drop her off at school in the afternoon (school starts at 12:15pm). We had just finally gotten her comfortable with the teachers and the kids when she got sick. So for me to hear her perk up at the sight of a child from school not only assured me that she was indeed starting to recuperate, but made my heart sing that she actually had a FRIEND!

I turned to look where Reilly Kate was pointing and running towards us was a sweet faced, blonde little beauty in smart Gymboree-like fashions. Following closely behind was a smaller version of said friend (presumably a sibling), also smartly dressed and tressed. Reilly Kate sat up and leaned forward just as the little girls roared up to the stroller. In an instant, my mommy brain shifted from rejoicing over new found friend to warning mode: New found friendship will cause spread of severe stomach virus. Must stop spread of virus. Must run interference. Friendship must be saved from stomach plague.

I reached my hand out to stop the children from making physical contact and said, calmly, "Reilly Kate hasn't been feeling well so let's give her some space. That way you don't get her germs and she doesn't get yours. Okay?"

I thought I'd handled that well. The kids were about three feet apart. They could still talk and see each other and be friends without cross contamination. I was just about to pat myself on the back for being so considerate and quick thinking when up stormed the girls' mother. She shall remain nameless, not for her protection, but because I haven't a clue what her name is nor do I really give a good god damn. I will, however, change the girls' names. Karma. I'm trying to avoid any more ass bites.

"Daisy! Daffodil! Get over here by me. Do not go near her. She's sick! Her mother just said she's sick," said the pinchy faced matron as she gathered her children near her. You'd think I just said that we were radio active and expecting to blow up at any moment. Really. She herded them right out of the aisle, leaving me, Darrell, Reilly Kate and both her girls just stunned. Reilly Kate and the girls looked at one another as they were carted off to the safety of the canned vegetables and imported foods aisle.

I felt bad. For a moment, I considered that perhaps I shouldn't have said anything. I shrugged it off and leaned down and explained to Reilly Kate that she would soon be well enough to go to school and Daisy and she would be able to catch up then. Reilly Kate looked a bit deflated and slumped back in her stroller, but no worse for it. And off we went to continue our shopping.

A few minutes and two aisles later, I saw them coming up the opposite side of the same aisle. The mom hesitated when she saw us, but was too far into the aisle to double back. She was committed to the cereal and snacks. Reilly Kate saw them, too.

"Daisy! Hi Daisy! Hi!" She was all sitting up and happy faced again.

As our two groups neared each other, I saw the mom pull the cart all the way over to the other side, giving us wide berth as we passed. But that's not all. She also sped up. To a run. Really. No kidding. A run.

"Come on, girls. Let's go by fast. Run with me. Stay over on this side. Run. Run. Come on, girls," she said as they blurred on passed us.

Reilly Kate called after them, "Daisy! It's me! Reilly Kate! Daisy! Hi!" Then her voice just drifted, "I'm still your friend..." and she looked at me and asked, "Why'd they run away?"

I felt like crying. I explained it the best I could to the poor babe, but I know it didn't cool the sting. Four year olds don't understand contagions. They do understand being shafted, though. So I smartly added, "Maybe it doesn't have anything to do with your being sick. Maybe Daisy's mom just likes to play running games in the store."

The very next encounter would prove that theory all wrong. Even to a four year old.

We were half way down the bread aisle when the Daisy gang just started to pull in. The mom took one look at us, skewed her already pinched up face, and jerked the cart back out of the aisle. "Come on," she said. "We'll go down this way." The girls followed while looking over at us.

Reilly Kate just tilted her head up this time. "Daisy? See you at school. I'll see you at school, Daisy." I didn't say a word. I patted her on the head and gave her arm a squeeze.

Honestly, I was pissed. Really fucking pissed. Who the hell treats a kid like a fucking leper? In front of OTHER kids? Oh, and have I mentioned Reilly Kate's is a Christian preschool? A place where Christian parents can send their children to learn Christian values? What brand of Christianity did that bitch think she was practicing? I can tell you that my sick little girl was just plain hurt by the callous actions of one self righteous adult doo doo head. I regret ever having said a word. I should have just let the germs fly. Honestly, I will think twice about it next time. For sure.

But as I said, I believe in karma. And today was Karma Day at the old Mustard Seed Preschool.

We walked in a few minutes late for class so Reilly Kate and I were the only ones in the hallway. As I was bent down, taking off her coat, she said, "Hey Mom! Look! It's Daisy! Hi Daisy!"

The little girl walked up to us, right up to us, mind you and said, "I'm sick today."

Out of nowhere sprung the matron. "Oh, Daisy. You don't have to... uhhh..." A look of recognition and embarrassment swept over her pinchy, pained face. "Hi," she mumbled. "Let's go now, Daisy," and she grabbed the little girl's hand.

As I stood up, I came face to face with not one, not two, but many, many countless flyers plastered all over the classroom door, the walls, the bulletin boards, everywhere. I hadn't noticed them before. But they were big and bright and pink and beautiful. They read:

A child from our school has been diagnosed with conjunctivitis.

It then went on to talk about how highly contagious it is and how to stop the spread, etc, etc. I talked to Reilly Kate in a slightly louder than necessary voice about the importance of not touching one's eyes and washing one's hands. I just wanted the mother to know I knew, ya know? It was a nice big bite, I have to say. And I enjoyed it. Immensely.

Now, all that enjoyment from the pain of others is no good for my karma. And then I went and blogged the whole thing. Didn't play the good Christian and turn the other cheek. I didn't pray for her. Or her sick daughter. I should have. Maybe I still will. But the damage is done. The bad karma is out there. I'm fairly certain we'll be visited by the Pink Eye Fairy this week.

So much for being able to see my blog.