Vegged Out at Mickey D's

Did you ever have one of those Grandparental moments where you wished it all back? I mean, like it never happened. Things go wrong in life sometimes…terribly wrong.

I’d say with me, it’s a lot more wrong, than not, but, since I’m trying desperately to win the “Grand Ma Ma” award of a lifetime, I’ll keep pluggin’ away with my inept attempts at being this stellar person I’ve conjured up. You all know what I’m talking about…that big roly-poly, pink cheeked lady standing at the kitchen stove, outfitted with calico apron and large wooden spoon, stirring that pot of soup. You can almost smell the Norman Rockwell atmosphere; the ever faithful Lassie sitting obediently alongside you, a bowl of Campbell’s Soup, a grilled cheese sandwich, and chocolate milk; all smiling back at you as if the world turned solely in your favor. I’d like to place a disclaimer here at this point: I have never gone to school to be a grandparent, nor do I have much recollection of any stellar grand parenting as a child. I vaguely remember a lot of cigarette smoking, cussing, and card playing. I’m pretty certain those attributes do not warrant award giving gratuities.

During one of my grandmotherly moments, I thought it would be a hoot to take the Grandchildren (four siblings), (AKA: “The Chitlin’s”) for a day of hiking and exploration to Lake Michigan. I was hoping the outcome would be a boat-load of curiosity, followed by questions, hopefully, with some reasonably appropriate answers, (maybe some made up ones too) and then finally exhaustion…which ultimately was my ulterior motive, since I was babysitting while their folks were in Mexico. I thought the plan was solid and that I was on my way to winning that “Grand Ma Ma” merit badge I was so desperately seeking.

The day starts, as any day would start at their house, each wanting something different for breakfast, each fighting in the bathroom over the sink, toothpaste, hairbrush, and towel, and each wanting to wear something inappropriate for the day’s activities. It’s late October and the weather is already too cold to be thinking shorts and sandals. The oldest (Hailey) prances out of her bedroom in tennis shoes and a long skirt with a slit up the side. She’s nine years old and I’m thinking to myself…when does a child really comprehend proper attire? I suspect she’s going to learn today, as she refuses to change what she considers the appropriate day’s wardrobe. I go along with her faulty fashion statement, warning her… there will be no whining and no turning back on the hike because of her choice. She agrees with an “I Dream of Jeannie” pose, and I give that smirk of smugness that lets her know Grandma rules.

I must also make mention that Hailey is the “vegetarian” of the family. She has been now, for two years. Honestly, I think she watched too many episodes of the “Simpsons,” as I believe “Lisa” was a veg-head for a short duration; claiming she couldn’t bear to see animals killed for the sole purpose of eating. Hailey’s reasoning is quite adorable and admirable, although; I think it’s laced with a bit of innocent ignorance. She has claimed her ever so long life ambition has been that of a veterinarian. Her mom and dad gave into her PETA preening’s, and I just scratched my head when it was announced she was a veg-head. I, being a Grandparent, had absolutely no knowledge in my lifetime, of meatlessness ; so who was I to judge. I, also being the curious one, asked some questions only a Grandmother could ask, “Hailey, I know you don’t like vegetables; how can you be a vegetarian?” She looked at me with distain and with that pre-pubescent repulsion that only a nine year old can emanate and seethed,”Gandma, I am a Lacto Ovo.” “A what?” It sounded serious to me, like there were going to be no great grandchildren in my future from her. I was relieved to find out it only meant that she ate dairy products. My next question was what every young girl NEVER wishes to hear from her Grandmother, “but Hailey, if you only eat bread and cheese, how will you ever poop?” I think she was on the verge of fainting, as I watched her take what I’m most certain was a “practiced – Gone With the Wind,” stumbled step backward, with the back of her hand pressed faintly upon her forehead. They don’t call her “Hailey Hollywood” for nothing. The topic was abruptly ended with a huff, and a stunning half pirouette and a rush to her room.

We finally managed to get out of the house about noon, which only meant one thing. It’s time for another feeding. It is true…time waits for no one; not even Grandmothers babysitting four “Chitlins” who are all about to embark on a journey to the fifth dimension.

I decided it would be wise of me to offer up a “McDonald’s” lunch before our little adventure to Lake Michigan began. The commotion in the car almost caused a car wreck. You would have thought a winning lottery ticket just flew out the window with the screams that ensued. They were all at once my “best friends” again, and started blurting out what their orders would be, in unison. You’ve gotta love “Grandmahood.” Off to McDonald’s we go.

As we placed the orders, I made it a point to let Hailey tell the cashier what it was she was planning to order off the un-Lacto Ovo menu. I should have known better than to push her veg buttons. She curtly replied to the girl, “I am a vegetarian, and I would like the Cheese Burger Happy Meal; without the burger please.” She gave me that “I am holier than cow” look. I ignored it, and gave them permission to all go play in the germ invested playground area until the food arrived. A Grandmother's love only goes so far.

I secured a booth for the children, and a round table, right next to them for myself. I contented myself with reading the paper until the food showed up. I walked back to the play area and called them in to eat. The two littlest ones had lost their tennies amongst the plastic balls. Hannah, the second oldest said she would rescue them. What I did notice, was that when stomachs call, children behave; an amazing phenomena. They all filed in and took places at the booth. Hannah showed up with the shoes and helped put them on the younger siblings. Meanwhile, Hailey proceeded to divvy out what they all ordered. Hannah had a Chicken McNugget Happy Meal, Hayden and Tanner both had Cheeseburger Happy Meals. I was so proud to watch Hailey play surrogate mother by opening each container, placing ketchup on the wrappers and then finally getting to her meatlessness of a Happy Meal.

I watched as they hungrily chewed and chatted. Then I busied myself with my newspaper and my lunch. All was right with the world; Grandma was working on that merit badge and it was looking mighty darn good.

All of a sudden, there’s a scream that rapes the room! I turn my head in the direction of my adorable grandchildren and watch as Hailey launches her sandwich across the room like a star quarterback, and proceeds to throw up on the table. The other children scream too, and propel themselves backwards in fear of being slimed by the regurgitated meat substance. She screams “meat, meat, there’s meat.” “I’ve eaten meat, and I’m going to die!” Again, more vomiting followed by rib retching like a sick puppy. Hayden and Tanner who are both too young to understand anything of what’s going on, except that their sister has screamed, she is going to die; start to cry. Hannah’s trying to pet Hailey down from the ceiling. The screaming and vomiting continue as I stare in horror. I turn and look at the other patrons who are in just as much shock as I am.

If I ever needed a prayer answered it was then. I’m looking at Hailey and she’s got me pinned down in angst, with her hush puppy eyes. I’m mindless and motionless. Hannah, breaks me out of my breakdown; “Grandma, do something.” I’m thinking how does one take meat back that’s been chewed? I’m not liking this day at all, nope, and I’m definitely hating Mexico in the back of my mind. I gather up my brains from the bottom of my bucket and tell Hailey to calm down, that she isn’t going to die. “But Grandma, I ate meat, and I haven’t eaten meat in two years!” The uncontrollable sobbing sends a message to the rest of people in the room, and I hear “do something,” from the back. So, this is how riots begin, I thought. The synergy of the Mickey D patrons was going to have a Grandmother in the gallows, swinging from the “Golden Arches.”

I grab the receipt from the booth top and tell them all to sit tight, and that I’ll be right back. I head to the front counter and push my way through the lines of people waiting to eat MEAT. My voice takes a stance of priority, (actually, it was down-right fear) “I need to speak to the manager, NOW!” The Mickey D crew scatters like Raid on roaches. I see the gal that waited on us, and I point an incriminating finger at her; she un-eagerly approaches, brandishing a French fry basket.

“Look,” I say, “I know, you know, there was to be no meat on that Cheeseburger Happy Meal with NO burger.” She nods in agreement. “Well, guess what? There was meat on it.” She surprises me with a rather bold retort, “Look, I know there was no meat on it, I took the order.” I told her to step out from behind that counter, and take a look at the drama that is going on at the booth, by the children who think their sister is going to die, oh, and take a look at the three CHEESEBURGERS…ALL WITH MEAT. I think she got the drift as that’s when the hint of customer service training kicked in. “How, can I make it right?” Other than a small miracle, I wasn’t sure. “Make it go away, get me outta here, I don’t know.” The meat eaters in lines were getting restless. Some guy smarts off, “Look lady, this is a meat eating restaurant, whatdaya want?” I’m thinking, oh…buddy, don’t get this Grandma riled anymore than she already is. I bite back with venom, “how about a bovine intervention.” The chuckles weren’t funny. “Just give me a lot of ice cream,” I said. The gal went quickly to work filling several containers. I hollered, “More!” She complied. I grabbed napkins at the condiment station. I felt like I was doing an ice cream hoist.

I returned after what seemed like hours, but I’m sure was only minutes. Hailey was still in a sob fest and the little ones were still crying along with her, Hannah was the only one with an ounce of composure; still petting Hailey’s hair. I set the tray of ice cream on my round table and took the napkins and swooped up what was more spit than regurgitated meat product, and threw the mess in one of the empty bags. Then I sat down next to her and lowered the tray filled with containers of vanilla ice cream. I said, “Hailey, you will not die, you may have indigestion, but you will not die…do you hear me?” She nodded weakly, like she shouldn’t believe me. I told her to eat the ice cream as it would help sooth her tummy and wash down the meat, and that Grandma wouldn’t lie about something so serious. The little ones quieted and Hailey, I think, was beginning to believe me. There’s still hope for Grandma.

We sat the next half hour waiting for patient Hailey to complete over a pint of ice cream (for medicinal purposes only.) I entertained the impatient ones by giving them all pennies for tossing into Lake Michigan. I told them to think about wishes they wanted to make on the pennies, so they could come true. Hailey, red-eyed and sniffling, looks at me with those hush puppy eyes…I fished into my wallet and hand her a quarter. She looks at me questioning. I tell her that her day hasn’t gone very well, and that she may need some extra money for her wish to come true. She grins. One up for Grandma.

I talked about her choice to be a vegetarian and how important it was for her to understand that others may not take it as seriously as she does and that it should always be her responsibility to double check her food; because mistakes happen. She nodded in agreement and I think things were looking up for Grandma’s merit badge.

When we finally got to Lake Michigan, we immediately headed to the shoreline. Everyone ceremoniously made their wish, and tossed their coin into the water. We played in the sand, drawing pictures with driftwood we had picked up along the way. We collected rocks to paint, for later that evening. I had brought along a magnifying glass and we studied bugs and seashells, or whatever else claimed their attention. We hiked until we couldn’t hike anymore. Yes, there were tons of questions and many with reasonably appropriate answers, and yes, several made up ones too. What surprised me the most was, that Hailey fared well in her long skirt with the slit up the side; never once complaining. One up for Hailey.

They slept peacefully on the way back home and upon arrival it was once again feeding time. I made their favorite, “spaghetti.” Hailey of course ate only the noodles with cheese, as she doesn’t like tomatoes. We painted the rocks after dinner. Bedtime came quickly. As I tucked the littlest in bed (Hayden, who’s four) she thanked me for saving her big sister’s life. One up for Grandma. I smiled, and she smiled back and said, “Grandma, you wanna know what I wished for today?” I told her it may not come true if she told me. She said she wanted to tell me anyway. “I wished Hailey wasn’t a “Lacto Ovo.” “Me too Girly, me too.” One up for Hailey.

By the way, my merit badge, well, it’s a work in progress, just like my Grandchildren.