Our new BFF: Lenny the Lion

A few months ago our family discovered Lenny the Lion.


He was introduced through a carb counting app produced by Medronic. If you haven’t checked it out, you should run over and take a look. It is a FREE app and has all sorts of games that teach carb counting. My 7 year old, 9 year old and 13 year old all found something of value within the game. I even had M dabbling with it…the more he knows the better, right?

Anyhow…last week I got an email from the powers behind the Lenny the Lion App. Our family had been randomly chosen to win a two foot tall Stuffed Lenny the Lion Doll!

Holla!







I’m not sure what I was expecting…but I wasn’t expecting the awesomeness that we received!

This lion had a HUGE impact on L. He couldn’t get over how cool it was. He couldn’t get over the fact that you could actually put a site in your leg! He was seriously gobsmacked. After giving Lenny the once over…L realized that Lenny had diabetes too. So he did the logical thing…he immediately started CPR. “How long has he been without his pump?” L wondered. He said Lenny needed a new site…stat!

The site was put on minutes after taking Lenny out of the box…and luckily we had an expired pump and an old Spibelt to hold the pump in place. (L is nothing, if he is not thorough.)




Lenny has gone with us everywhere. L is so proud of him. B has announced that he plans on doing Lenny’s next site change. This is huge! B has never showed any interest in applying a site. If he practices a couple times on Lenny…who knows? Maybe it will give him the confidence to try it on himself?

This gift has been brilliant. Kudos to Medronic for getting the stuffed Lenny the Lion right! I half expected something like a grabber machine prize from Chuck E. Cheese, so needless to say…I was pleasantly surprised!

Thank you Medronic! Your kind gift has given Our Diabetic Life a much needed “Moral Booster!”

TCOYD...and me!

TCOYD (Taking Control of Your Diabetes) is a charitable organization whose sole purpose is to motivate those that have diabetes to take a more active role in their health. They educate, motivate and provide tools to help those with diabetes succeed in all they do! They have awesome conferences that take place throughout the United States. One of those conferences happens to be NEXT WEEK in my neck of the woods.

Amy of Diabetes Mine is leading a session on “Living with Diabetes Online,” and she was kind enough to ask me and Landileigh to join her panel to relate some of our experiences.

I have never been to one of these conferences, but after reading the information, I am completely intrigued! The conference is for type 1’s and type 2’s and will cover everything from handling the emotional roller coaster of diabetes, to cooking demos, to an open session with a lawyer to answer questions about health care, employment or DMV issues.

And Olympic Gold Medalist Billy Mills will be there!

And I will be there!

Holy Hannah! If you live in the Bay Area, I think you need to come!

You can register: HERE

And there is a link to Diabetes Mine that will give you Amy’s take on the event: HERE

If you are around, please come and say hello. I will be super lost…and scared…and nervous! This will be my first time at this rodeo, but I’m excited to get the word out about this virtual world that has changed my life for the better! The more on the bandwagon the merrier. We don’t need to be lonely in this disease anymore. Friends are waiting!

I’m honored to be part of such a great event!

Changing of the guard.

I’ve had my alarm clock for 18 years. It was a wedding present from my cousin Todd.

Todd was one of those cousins who was more like a brother than a cousin. In my earliest memories, Todd is there. He and my brother used to endlessly torment me when we were very young. They would lock me out of the house and try to scare the crap out of me when I turned a corner…but as we grew up, the relationship changed. It was an easy, fun relationship. In our teen years, I would fix Todd up with my friends, and in return he drove me around to get job applications and took me shopping at the mall.

On my wedding day, Todd was there, large as life. He smiled and laughed like nobody’s business…and true to form, as soon as the reception ended; there he was with his shirt off…running around like he owned the place.

But on that day…the best of all days…Todd gave Ryan and I this alarm clock.



Inside the alarm clock was a mixed cassette tape of Beatles songs that we could wake up to. Todd had made this tape himself, and although the mechanism broke many years ago…this alarm clock sat in my heart as one of my favorite gifts. It was practical AND thoughtful.

But 18 years on an alarm clock can be rough…especially one given to hard times like our own. That alarm clock has been used, overused and abused. Despite its faults though, it was completely reliable! And it was, as I said, from Todd.

Todd passed away 4 years after my wedding day. He was only 27 at the time. He passed in his sleep from an aneurism.


(This is the only pic I have of Todd at my wedding. I found this in the background of a picture of Ryan taking off my garter. I’m sure my brother was saying something snarky about me when the picture was snapped. Todd is the one without the bow tie.)

After his passing…the alarm clock became even more special to me. It was like a member of the family…like a guardian angel that would wake me to check sugars. Old faithful for sure! But through obvious wear and tear, and sad overuse…the alarm clock was coming to its end. It wouldn’t tune into the radio anymore. I could only wake up to white noise. Loud. Startling. White. Noise. (Not cool.) And the mix tape had long since been destroyed by a rouge toddler.

But even with all its faults…it never once occurred to me to replace it.

Last week we were at Costco buying an iHome for B with his Christmas money. He had gotten an iPod Touch and wanted a convenient way to charge it. They were only 35 bucks. “Hey…I’ll get one for my iPhone too,” I said. When we got it home and I opened the box, I found that there was a free alarm clock app that came with it.

I downloaded the awesome app and looked over at the alarm clock Todd had given me. I didn’t buy the iHome with the intention of getting rid of our old alarm clock. But here it was…ready to wake me with music from my iPod library. It was a heavier moment than I expected when I wrapped up the old alarm clock. I couldn’t throw it away, so it sits on the top shelf of my closet for now.

I got NO sleep the first night I used the new alarm clock. I was so worried it wouldn’t go off! Heck…I didn’t KNOW this alarm clock! We had just met! We had no history, how was I to know that it was reliable? I had to do two test alarms before I could go to sleep…just to make sure I was programming it correctly, and I kept waking up in the wee hours of the morning, staring at it… wondering if it would do its job as well as my old one had. In the end, it did wake me up. Quite sweetly I must say. It starts at a lower volume and then gradually gains its voice to wake me. I love it. I absolutely love it.

I can just picture all the alarm clocks that belong to the army of D parents and D peeps the world over. I’m sure there are many with worn buttons and broken parts. I’m sure there are a few that have been thrown across the room. (I’m ashamed to say that the clock Todd gave me has seen its share of floor time.)

I had no idea how significant the gift of an alarm clock would be on my wedding day. On that day I didn’t know that there would be nights that I would be setting the alarm to go off every hour, on the hour. I didn’t know of Our Diabetic life, or the heartache and worry that was ahead of me. Our boys were just a twinkle in our eyes back then.

I’m sure Todd had no idea either. But today I want to take a moment to thank him for it. It has been a good companion and provided a life saving service for our family many times over…many years over.

I know our family has been given guardian angels to watch over the boys. I know it. So it leaves me to wonder, has Todd taken the post? Is the alarm clock a symbol of his steadfast duty?

I don’t know. But the thought of it makes me smile through these tears.

God bless alarm clocks...

And God bless Guardian Angels.

Cl-assic

Son of a biscuit!

It’s happening again. Things are getting out of hand. Are basals whacked out, or are these random numbers just here to torment me? Numbers are popping up that for the life of me SHOULD. NOT. BE. THERE!

L called with a 370 at snack yesterday. Say huh? He bolused for breakfast. It was the very same breakfast he eats three times a week. It is my go to breakfast when I want good numbers!

J was 62 one hour after dinner last night. What that heck?

B was 220…AFTER basketball practice. That number should not be within miles of him after all that running. By the way, he went in at 147, and he kept his pump on.

And why? Why? Why was L low ALL NIGHT LONG? It makes NO sense. He doesn’t go low at night! I have not changed basals! He has not been sick! WHHHHHHHY?

Go away arbitrary-insane-where-the-flip-did-you-come-from numbers!

You know things are bad when you have to Google, “nice swear words.”

I'm not a rookie, I know that we are to expect random numbers that don't make sense...but for me, when it rains it pours. They all have to whack out together, on the very same day. Is it the cosmos keeping me on my toes? Is it a top secret pancreas test given to me once a quarter? Am I being punked?

Regardless, it is all hitting the fan people. And there is only one explanation as to why.

Tomorrow is our endo appointment.

'Nuff said.

Sleepover.

Sleepover: It is a like a four letter word to D Mothers and Fathers the world over.

J didn’t have his first sleepover until he was in 5th grade. Why I agreed to let B go on his first sleepover at the tender age of 9 is completely beyond me.

He has these giant, gorgeous brown eyes. I’m a sucker for the eyes. I swear when he asked me he looked exactly like this…


As I was driving to meet B after school with his suitcase...I pondered, (with my obvious lack of sane reasoning)…B will be celebrating five years with diabetes this year. He has officially, this month, approached the point where he has lived more life with diabetes than without. He is my responsible one…he always remembers to bolus for dinner, if I forget to count the carbs he reminds me. He calls me at lunch everyday…he rarely forgets. He deserves a sleepover dagnabit! (Yeah, apparently I'm an old coal miner when I ponder...)

But no matter how much I reasoned with myself, my heart wasn’t feeling it. Driving to the school was like driving the green mile. All my anxiety came to the surface. It was like diabetes was sitting in the passenger seat insisting I pay attention to its tantrums. It wouldn’t shut up! It kept screaming in my ear…lalalalalalala…I tried so hard to tune it all out!

I hate it when I have to think about diabetes. I hate to have to think about the walls and complications it surrounds me with. No matter how ready B was for this sleepover, diabetes was going to make it complicated. And it didn’t help that he was having lows again lately.

The lows we had a couple week ago preceded a “false start” sleepover. He was supposed to spend the night at this friends then, but at the very last minute, his friend’s father got the flu. The two days leading up to this false start B suffered from terrible lows. I changed basals and it seemed to fix everything, but what do you know…two days before this new sleepover date, the lows returned.

Excited much?

It was all he could think about. All he could talk about. He and his friend spent every minute they could planning the fun they would have. So I did what any mom with an itchy trigger finger would do…I lowered every one of his basal rates across the board before he left for school that morning. Let him be high! Keep him safe I say!

So when I finally made it to school after a ride that I swear felt like 5 hours…I checked B before leaving him and found a “lovely” 62 in front of me. Some juice and a FREE 40 carb carrot muffin at his friends found him to be 88 at dinner. UGH. Would the fun EVER end! He ate out with the family and had ice cream after and called me at bedtime with a 270. I gave him half the correction the pump suggested and let him go to sleep.

He said he woke up the next morning feeling low. He said he ate a pack of Yogos that were by his bedside and then checked himself an hour later. He was 200 at this time. Was he low? Who knows…but I’m proud of him for taking the initiative and listening to his body. It was precisely the reason I let him go on this adventure. Well, that…and his little boy’s mother is a sweetheart. I knew she would take great care in making sure all was well with B.

This was one of those times. One of many that I just held my breath and jumped. B was armed with a cell phone in his pocket, (which I called three times and texted twice,) a blood sugar monitor clipped to his belt loop, a bag of Yogos in his pocket and juice in his suitcase. I gave his friend’s mother a piece of paper with our phone numbers, a list of times he needed to check his sugar, and another list of times when he needed to call me. I also wrote out these words, "Under 100 is a low, he needs to eat a snack. Over 20o, he is high and needs insulin. Don't be afraid to call me! :)" That is the extent of it all.

It is never as easy as it sounds, but the smile on B’s face when I picked him up made it so worth it. He proudly exclaimed as he jumped in the car that they should do that “every weekend.”

Yeah, these 20 grey hairs I grew this weekend don’t need friends buddy. His friend can stay at our house next time.

But I did it. He did it. We did it.

I’m exhaling as I write.

The Three Day Rule.

(ATTENTION: In the famous words of Hallie, “I’m not a doctor; I just play one in real life.” Talk to your endo about my rule before you put it into action. See if your endo agrees. Even though he/she should…go with what the medical professionals say. I’m just a mom, I’m SO not a doctor. So don’t do anything crazy, ok?)

I’m not a fan of rules.

There are a lot of rules in diabetes, but most are relative.

Each rule has a set of sub rules, which have a set of conditions that have a set of half baked nuances.

But there is one rule I stand by. Rain or shine. High or low.

One rule that I hold fast to…no matter how hard the winds blow.

The Three Day Rule.

THREE. DAYS!

Not one day more…not one day less. Three days!

When we change basals, I will ALWAYS wait three full days before I change them again.

(Basal is the underlying insulin that acts as long acting. So if you or your child are on shots, this rule would pertain to your long acting insulin, such as the NPH or the Lantus.)

Is it easy?

No.

Do I usually want to bang my head against the wall?

Yes.

Is it worth it?

Always.

Case and point: B had a bout with some uber bad lows when he returned back to school after Christmas break. It stood to reason though…during Christmas he wasn’t running around the playground…he was eating more…he was SITTING more. So basals went up! But when school started again, all that movin’ and groovin’ led to nasty after school lows. Some in the 30’s. (This was during Lawton’s “vacation” by the way.) 30’s are not ok. I haven’t seen 30’s in YEARS. 30's scare the crap out of me. Heck, 40’s scare the crap out of me! 50’s scare me! 60’s tick me off…and anything above I’m happy to deal with.

Three days in a row…30’s after school. Even without bolusing for lunch? Yeah! We needed to dial the basals down! (FYI: This is another rule of mine. I always wait three days to establish a pattern. The 30-something could have been a random thing. On day two, it could have been his body adjusting to the new routine, but day 3...HELLO! A pattern has been established, and things needed to change, NOW.)

So I made my changes…and the next day, lo and behold! 30’s again. But did I waver? No, I did not.

I waited.

It is a RULE for a reason!

The next day…he was high. Boo! 274 and I wondered if I lowered it too much.

But did I waver? Did I dial the basals back up?

NO!

I waited.

And the next day he was perfect.

And his afterschool numbers have been beautiful ever since.

I used to have a basal trigger finger problem. I have been guilty of changing basals less than 24 hours after the previous change…and every time ended in disaster.

Fair warning:

Those three days will give you false alarms.

Those three days will make you want to pull your hair out.

But if you wait…good will come of it. As with anything else with diabetes, it isn’t easy…but totally worth it. I can’t explain the medical aspect of it all, but the bottom line is their bodies need time to settle into the change.

When I do make the new basal changes, I make them on day 4. Not day 3. Day three is a no fly zone day. I leave it alone!

That is my two cents…let’s make it 40 cents…’cause in my book, it is so worth more than two!

The Three Hour Tour: My first short story.

The story begins with an incident that has less to do with the story and more to do with the heart of this blog. My husband and I, away for a romantic getaway on the Monterey Peninsula, were driving down the coast towards the Fisherman’s Wharf. As we were stopped at a light I saw in the horizon a man running. In most accounts a man running down the street wouldn’t seem out of place, but this man was dressed in Khaki pants and an Izod collared shirt. He wasn’t overdressed by any means, but his clothes were chosen with obvious care, and were not suited in any way for running. As his presence came clearer into view I turned to my husband to comment on the peculiarity of the situation. He too had been following this man, wondering just as I had…why on earth he was running. The man was almost to the corner when our light turned green. As our car turned away from him we barely caught that the man was clutching Welches juice boxes…one in each hand. I was sure as the day was long what was happening at that moment. His worried face was clear. His demeanor harried…his posture frustrated as he waited for his crosswalk to be clear of cars. As we drove down the street I saw him run towards the beach. If we could have turned around at that moment we would have offered him assistance. But the moment was gone. We were stuck on the causeway with no chance of turning around. Familiar tears stung the corners of my eyes. I said a silent prayer for the child or loved one who was in need of the juice and then turned my attention to the view of the wharf directly in front of us.


The day was amazing. We were fortunate enough to get away on the most breathtaking weekend. Blue skies, nary a breeze…the salt air felt healing as each moment, one after another, brought perfection. As we leisurely strolled down the pier we saw the sign: Whale Watching Tours. My husband and I turned to each other and smiled. This would be the cherry on top of our perfect weekend. We signed up immediately and ran to the car to get our jackets.


This is where the real story begins gentle reader. I don’t mean to upset you…but here on I make a solemn promise to be only honest. And in being so, I promise…It will not be pretty.

We descended the stairs on the pier and jumped on the boat with enthusiasm. We found a seat on the side and chatted eagerly about the adventure ahead. We joked about the sign that did in fact state that this would be a “three hour tour.” If our tiny ship was tossed and we ended up on a desert isle, which of the cast of characters would we be? We deduced that we would take on the personas of Mr. Howl and Lovey…as they were deeply in love, and were never parted from one another. We kissed and giggled at our silliness.

Oh were we silly.

Silly silly, unknowing, silly us!

We passed a sea lion in the marina. I snapped this shot and looked to the horizon. The whales waited and I was beside myself with excitement.

It was probably 15 minutes into the trip when I realized that this was most likely a horrendous mistake.

The sun fell victim to the fog and my smile slowly faded as we headed into the depths of what seemed only to be despair. The wind was ruthless; the waves were what the captain called, “choppy.” I personally think choppy is too sweet of a word. The waves in fact were villainous, evil and dark.

With each mile I turned a darker shade of green. The exuberant faces of the passengers gave way to trepidation. The trepidation gave way to despair. Many retreated to the cabin, while the rest clutched to sides of the boat.

It turned ugly quickly. Our tourmates would run past us as hurriedly as the wind tossed boat would allow them…each of them sacrificing their lunch to the sea. Eight in all passed by within the first hour. My husband and I both hanging on by a thread. It was when we slowed to start crisscrossing the channel…that is when all went south for me. The sun was completely gone and I began shivering despite my makeshift tent I made within remains of my jacket. I abandoned my husband who refused to move a hair for fear of yacking, and retreated to the cabin.

Big. Fat. Mistake.

Carnage. Inside I found what looked like passengers overcome with the plague. Husbands and wives clinging to each other. Children puking left and right. A Grandmother crying and uttering prayer on behalf of the inhabitants there of. I wasn’t in there but 2 minutes when I knew seeing the corndog I ate for lunch would be inevitable. I went to the bar and asked for a bag to puke in where I was met with a jerkface of a man who told me I must puke off the side of the boat. I ran best I could clutching the rails of the death vessel, and made it all the way back to my husband before the puking began. I puked for a total of 10 minutes. I wasn’t able to make it to the back of the boat, so most of it flew back on to the rail. When I was finally finished I turned and tried to avoid eye contact with other passengers. They all pointed to themselves, signaling that they too had blessed the sea with such offerings.

A gentleman approached us, who my husband had personally seen throw up three times, and asked if we would object to the boat going back to the pier early. We had no objection. No one but the captain had objection. The captain refused to give up. He had a 98% success rate of whale sightings for crying out loud, and he would not turn back for a load of pansies such as ourselves.

When a whale spout was finally seen in the distance, everyone praised God and stood. A woman came onto the intercom, and like a Disneyland ride began cheerfully giving up information on whale culture. Her voice was surreal and a complete joke amongst the passengers. For the love of everything holy, we just wanted to see the fricking whales, please shut up happy voice and let us just take pictures of the stupid whales!

Now they don’t tell you that they can’t get within a few hundred yards of the whales, as they are protected. We were so far away we could just make them out. We circled them for a half hour rocking relentlessly on the waves. Finally, the cheerful voice over the intercom began apologizing profusely that our time was up, and it was time to go back to land.

The passengers cheered.

We were five minutes into our journey back when the cheerful intercom lady came by and asked if we had questions about the whales. I looked into her eyes and did not say a word. I emptied out with dagger eyes every ounce of misery I was feeling into her soul. I was about to open my mouth and unload my biting words when my husband interrupted and asked how long until we would be back to shore. “Oh, just 50 minutes or so! You’ll be feeling better soon!” To which my husband responded with jumping up and throwing up over the rails. I began to feel the familiar feeling in my throat and dreaded, more than I have talent to write, puking over the boats edge again. So I did the only thing I could. I passed out on my husband’s shoulder, forcing myself to sleep until we came into port.

I woke up drooling bits of corndog on my husband’s jacket. I looked up and my husband laughed at the site of me. Big black makeup circles under my eyes, bright red nose, tear streaks down my face…a pronounced green hue. We looked like hell. We had been through hell.

It was the three hour tour from hell. And all I had were these three pictures to show for it.



We both walked with pronounced limps back to the car, as if one of our legs was 1 foot shorter than the other. Our sea legs tortured us for the remainder of the evening…and nightmares ensued when we were warm in the inn’s feather bed.

Looking back my husband said we endeavored to complete what every great getaway requires: We made a memory. A memory we will not soon, or ever forget. A very sweet thought for sure.

Regardless…I leave you with this warning: Beware of the three hour tour. It didn’t work out so well for Gilligan…and it was only torture for me. And PS they will say anything to get you to take the tour. “It is a bit nippy,” they say…”The waves are a LITTLE choppy they say.” “Whale sightings are plentiful!” they say.

Do yourself a favor and watch a special on Animal Planet.

You probably will get better pictures too.

Meri + Laziness = Stupidness.

I can say that…because I was both lazy and stupid yesterday, and what it all rounded up to is a whole lotta extra work.

Yeah, I’m super proud of my poor decision making yesterday!

Hold on a sec, I need to wipe down the dripping sarcasm off my blog.

There…much better.

So the boys woke up today with less than typical numbers. I know I’m going to be a bit of a Braggy McBragerson when I say that normally the boys wake up in the very low 100’s. So when L woke up with a 250, I knew.

I totally knew he needed a set change.

But that little voice whispers in the back of my head. (Meeeeeeri…he has enough insulin to make it until after schooool. Corrrrrect him…and he will be just fiiiiine.)

Yeah, my little voice is creepy like that.

So I believe this little voice. Even though I KNOW that all the boys are past due for their changes. Especially B… he only had 5 units left. I commissioned J to change out B’s reservoir for me, and I apply the set to his bum.

I sent the boys to school. Knowing.

As they were driving away in my mother in laws car, the OTHER voice…the one that knows what the H-E-DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS it is talking about…well, THAT voice says…you should have changed L’s and J’s sets too. Well, too little too late smart voice!

The first call came at 10:15. L is 425.

Picked him up. Set change on the side of the school parking lot. His cannula had completely wiggled its way out of his tush. It was bent hard against his skin. Blah.

The second call came at 1:30. J has 3 units left…AND, his pump has died. Battery completely dead.

“But isn’t there an extra battery in your school box? We are SO prepared like that! There has to be a battery!”

Yeah. That would be a negatory.

We finally got things settled by dinner time. I made this recipe recommended by a friend…

The boys sugars were brilliant at their 8:30 bedtime. Tiny amounts of insulin on board, but just right if you ask me…

And then 10:00 comes around…

Lawton alerts.

He was dead asleep a half hour before. But something woke him…and he was alerting.

L: 36

&*&^%$$####$$%^^&&**((((((@@@@!!!!!!

(That is my nice way of showing you my angst.)

The what if’s started flowing freely, along with my tears.

The big miracle of the story is Lawton kinda took December off from alerting. Once the Christmas tree went up, he was like…Oh great! Vacation! And we had lots of family from out of town to visit with…and we were dogsitting for a friend…and we had family staying with us…

But when the tree came down and he still wasn’t alerting, I started to panic.

Last Friday though…LAST FRIDAY…he began alerting again. Just like that.

And there he was last night, in front of me, alerting. Just when I started watching another show. I probably wouldn’t have checked the boys for another half hour.

I feel blessed and frustrated all at once.

The boys woke up with their normal great numbers this morning, and their pumps are full of fresh insulin and their bodies are sporting fresh sets…so I’m ASSUMING that all will be well today.

And as for my bruised ego? And my sad-pathetic-oh-poor-poor-Meri-self…I’m coming out of the fog.

Mostly because I just watched this:

It's my party and I can change my blog if I want to!

Happy Birthday to me!

Booya!

As a present to myself, I have changed my blog banner. I've grown tired of staring at diabetic suppiles. I would MUCH rather look at the cutie pa tootie faces of my boys!

So there you have it!

Get it? 3D. 3 boys with D. Three boys with diabetes. (I know it is obvious, but humor me folks!)

Wait, you thought that was all?

No no no no. There is more!

I also gave myself my very own URL.

Oh snap!

I am the proud owner of ourdiabeticlife.com!

Although, you can still get here from my old blogspot address...weary fingers can now cut out the blogspot altogether. (Thanks to Joanne's husband Fred for his help!)

Happy Birthday to me!! AND Happy Birthday to Lorraine over at This is Caleb! We've taken a hard look at ourselves...and we are ok with being older. :) (It's kinda' a January 10th inside joke. ;)

PS Two great giveaways going on right now. One at A Sweet Grace, and one at the We Caralot Blog! Check em out!

Doggone it, people like me!?

Please excuse the lateness of this post. I have had a super hard time wrapping my head around the generosity and the love of the DOC.

I found out last week that I had won all three categories I was nominated for in the DOC Awards.



I wish you could have seen my face when I turned on my computer that morning and found out. It was everything you can imagine…much like when the American Idol contestants get good comments from the judges and have that look of complete shock. I was even looking around the room…sure I was being punked. It was hands down one of my cheesiest moments to date.

Now that I think about it…I’m glad you didn’t see my face. VERY glad I was alone!

I’m pretty sure my jaw was agape for like 10 minutes. I kept staring at the screen…and this was all I could think of…


Many words come to mind, but the ones that stand foremost in my swelly brain are:

Thank you!

I don’t want to say anything, but man…I really have you guys hoodwinked! It’s all part of my evil plan to get you to like me and then eventually con you into sending me chocolate chip cookies.

Because every evil villain wants chocolate chip cookies, right?

That is my subtle yet painfully obvious way of telling you all I have started my New Year’s Healthier Eating Resolution. Hence the awkward and totally random insertion of warm chocolate chip cookies.

Cookies. They are what I dream about now.

Okay…I’m WAAAAAAAAAAAAY off topic.

Before I go, I want to encourage all of you to go back to the DOC Awards page HERE and read the blogs that were nominated alongside mine. They are amazing, fun, talented people. Some are wonderful D Mamas whose blogs I follow faithfully. Others are inspiring bloggers that are Type 1 themselves. Their insight and candor is fascinating to me. It’s like peeking into my boys’ futures. And you know what? I like what I see! They advocate for the future of our children…they are blazing a trail! And for that…I am eternally grateful.

Thank you to you for following and appreciating my journey. Thank you to the bloggers I follow, for advocating, making me laugh, cry...and just plain feel like part of a community...(okay, the music is playing me off the stage...I'm giving my kindest appreciative wave, wiping the honored tear from my eye, and ending my post now. ;)

Here is to another fantastic year of blogging for the DOC! Cheers!

Finding my way as the unicorns flee.

So I’m flying through life. Walkin’, you know…strolling down the streets of Our Diabetic Life. There are bumps and there are cracks, but for the most part I’m able to keep a steady gait.

The holidays come and I get in my appreciative and sappy mode. I’m all about counting my blessings and living in the moment…seeing all the wonderfulness I have in front of me…

When one day L walks in, sits on my lap and says…

“I wish there was a magic potion to cure diabetes, I really really wish!”

But he doesn’t only say these words…he MEANS them. He utters them slowly, holding my face between his two sweet hands. He says it with conviction and with big crocodile tears in the corners of his eyes.

And I stop in my tracks.

'Hold the phone here…my baby isn’t OK right now.' My mind wandered back to the last few days. He had said something along the same lines every day that week, but this time he wanted me to really hear them.

Epiphany: No matter how OK I am with disease…No matter what I do to keep myself putting one foot in front of the other…no matter all the precautions I take to make diabetes “no big deal…” It all goes in the toilet if my boys are not OK.

I can be OK until the cows come home…but if it isn’t OK for them…if I see it affecting them…well, all bets are off.

And the tears come.

And I feel inadequate.

And the melancholy sets in.

That is where I have been. Sorting out these feelings I have.

It’s hard to stroll through my days with this underlying uneasiness.

I’ve been doing my best to fake it until I make it. It helps a little. Pretending I’m not overwhelmed with my baby’s words has helped me function. But the seed remains. The helplessness remains.

It haunts me that the only reason I’m okay with all this, is because my boys are OK with all this. If they are not OK…then my swelly brain will not be contained. It will seriously blow up.

Seriously.

I’ve watched L closely the last few days. L seems fine. He doesn’t complain. He is back to accepting his lot… and I am thankful he was able to share his angst with me. Our conversation seems to have eased his mind a bit. I think it helped him to know I wish there was a magic potion too. I told him even if a cure is never found, he will still accomplish great things in his life. I told him that diabetes will never hold him back from being awesome, and in fact diabetes has made him even more super awesome.

Regardless of the success of our exchange, the unicorns are jumping out the window and the rainbows are fading in the skyline. My peace has been disturbed. My joy has been waning, and my hope seems to be all I have left. I know I can move on from this hiccup, eventually. My days are a bit foggier than they usually are…but I can still see my way.

My theme for the new year is: One step at a time. One day…one step…I can do this…and most importantly…my boys can do this.

A year in review: Our Diabetic Life 2010

I've been inspired by other amazing bloggers in the blog-o-sphere, and ask if you might take my hand to stroll with me down memory lane.

January 2010: I put out an all points bulletin for HELP WANTED: Stunt double for 1:30am blood sugar checks. Must have legs of iron for bumping into bed corners in the dark, and toes of steel for dresser edges and random toy bumpage. When awakened by the alarm, an instant steady gate is paramount for not bumping like a drunk into walls and doors. (No qualified applicants contacted me by the way...)

February 2010: I posted my first REENACTMENT:
Scene: Bedroom, 1:30am, parents in deep sleep, drooling on their pillows, dreaming of the weekend ahead.

*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!*

Silence is broken by alarm. The alarm clock is across the room.

Meri nudges Ryan. (She REALLY doesn’t want to get up.)

Ryan hops out of bed. (A look of relief flashes over Meri’s face. She has a peaceful smile as she instantly falls back to sleep.)

((KERPLUNK)) Ryan is immediately back in bed. He only snoozed the alarm; he did not check the boys’ blood sugars.
(I know we have all been there!)

March 2010: My dear friend Lora needed my help. I posted, "MY FRIEND HAS LOST HER MARBLES," in an effort for her to find some peace of mind, or a piece of her mind...The first few verses went...

My friend has lost her marbles
Won’t you take the time to look?

My friend has lost her marbles
It happened when her world was shook.

The rocking of her brain caused them to roll around,
And when she needed them the most, they were nowhere to be found.

Because they are smooth orbs, marbles can be tricky to keep in check,
They roll around your life and slip away when you’re a wreck.

(Not a week later I found one by the fruit bowl. No kidding, I posted the picture on Facebook.)

April 2010: A POST TITLE WITHOUT A SWEAR WORD was written after a particularly terrible night blood sugar wise...and insulin wise. I think the first few sentences speak volumes...
If it were physically possible for a brain to explode from sheer anguish…

OR, if it wasn’t just a saying, but true to life that a heart could explode from worry…

Last night…

I would have been found on my living room floor in pieces.

Literally.

May 2010: Our diabetic Life participated in Diabetes Blog Week. I posted another reenactment, this time chronicling, A DAY IN THE LIFE OF OUR DIABETIC LIFE. Which started out much like your days...with an alarm at 1:00am.

June 2010: I wrote a little piece of which I concluded we are like She-ra, rockin bod, flowy hair and all. In FROM ZERO TO HERO, I pondered the fact that even though we sometimes see ourselves as Zero's, we need to accept the fact that we win EVERY battle we fight in this war...and that has got to be worth something. We are warriors!

July 2010: I wrote HOW I STAY OUT OF THE LOONY BIN. Our medical alert dog Lawton has saved my sanity many times. He is an amazing animal! TODAY happens to be his birthday! Happy 4th Birthday Lawton!!

August 2010: My boys started school and I wrote this poem about my youngest. I want the world to see him as I do. It started like this...

TAKE A SECOND LOOK
The blond boy that you treat as you do…
The one you don’t give a second thought.
He was diagnosed when he was two
You can’t imagine his life’s lot.

His smile is contagious
His laughter full of the sun
He hops and skips and runs and jumps
Yet his world has come undone.

September 2010: I wrote AN OPEN LETTER TO THOSE WHO ARE WORRIED ABOUT DIAGNOSIS #2. I have witnessed too many families go through a second diagnosis through notes, emails and phone calls...I know the worry, the sadness, the pain of it all. I wrote this letter for them, and for all of you who worry about your other children. My main message: All is well!

October 2010: I wrote: I WANT YOU TO KNOW SOMETHING. A post that received my kindest response to date. It began:
There are a few things I want you to know.

I want you to know, when your daughters pump ran out of insulin within the first hour of school last week…I have felt that very same anger and embarrassment that you did.

I want you to know, when your son wets his bed at night from a high blood sugar…I have felt the same sadness, guilt, and love for my son that you do.

I want you to know, when you forget to bolus your child for dinner, and their bedtime number is 508. I have felt the very same shame and intense regret.

November 2010: I began NaBloPoMo with a bang. It was the first SAE day, and you know me, I HAD SOMETHING TO SAE! I gave everyone the task of bolusing my son for lunch. One bolus out of the tens of thousands we have done...and turns out, it is a pretty complicated process. This is my first post that went "viral" so to speak. (10 times the normal hits is viral in my little world anyway. :) It was even stolen and plagiarized! I've hit the big time baby!

December 2010: I wrote: 'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE SET CHANGES. It was my twist on a Christmas Classic.

Reading back over my posts was way more emotional than I thought it would be. It has been quite a year and I have to say that through it all, I am still completely blessed. I have my family. I have you. What more does a D Mama need these days?

Happy New Year dear friends! I have a feeling this year is going to be an epic one...epically awesome! If the day is what we make of it...I'm going to try to make the best of every one of them!

Booya!

Erma

Erma was big, and she was beautiful.

But during the time I knew her, I didn’t appreciate what she had to offer in the least.

To me, she was old.

To me, she was too fat to take anywhere.

To me, she was a complete embarrassment.

I didn’t want to be seen with her. If the saying, “it’s what’s on the inside that counts” holds true, Erma didn’t count much. She wasn’t much to look at, and her personality wasn’t that shiny either.

Her companionship was a necessary evil, and for a good year she went with me everywhere.

Her make and model speaks volumes. Erma was a 1979 Chevy Beauville G20 Van.

I took my driving test on my sixteenth birthday and pathetically failed by one point. Devastated, but not completely defeated, I returned one week later and passed with flying colors. Since I didn’t have the funds to get my own ride, my persistence landed me the use of my mother’s two toned eight passenger Chevy Van.

When I drove it to school, my friends and I would park it blocks away from the eyes of our peers. Who cares if we had to walk three blocks…we were convinced the van could not be seen or our popularity score would plummet from its already low elevation.

Eventually that van became famous. It was first choice when going out with the girls…it could fit a big group and it was destined for adventure at every outing. We gave it the adoring nickname “Erma” and began parking it closer to the school…even in the parking lot when we were feeling bold.

My relationship with Erma taught me a lot.

Let’s face it, she was big, and I often thought people would only laugh and stare. I thought people would judge me differently because I rode with her. But I was so wrong. It was BECAUSE I rode with her that my nights were memorable. Everyone knew who she was…because of her I made friends and unforgettable memories I’ll keep with me forever.

Sometimes what we see as our biggest disadvantage is actually one of our greatest assets.

I eventually got a Nissan Sentra and left Erma behind…but the Nissan Sentra memories weren’t as hilarious. The weekends weren’t as memorable, and the rides weren’t as smile inducing.

I lost a bit of the magic when I lost Erma.

I know many of us see Diabetes as our Erma. She is the elephant in the room that we think everyone is gawking at. But honestly…it is an asset. An asset that is making our memories more vivid.

Ermas give our good times more color.

We have a better view of the world riding in the front seat of Erma. Driving her at first may seem awkward…the giant steering wheel, the AM radio and the high wide front seat seem unnatural…but when you ride in a different stratosphere as the rest of the world, you see a fuller, more simple picture.

This new perspective we have is because of Erma…and if she goes away someday, our life will turn into a Sentra. Not a bad ride, in fact an extremely comfortable, smooth and enjoyable ride…

Yeah, I know…we will all take that Sentra ANY day of the week.

But one day we will look back and see Erma in a different light than we do today. We’ll see she made the good times brighter, and we’ll be even more appreciative of the wider view she affords us.

Hope, Joy and Peace: The Superheroes of 2011

HOPE: (verb) To wish for something with expectation of fulfillment. (Noun) The theological virtue defined as the desire and search for the future good, which is difficult, but not impossible with Gods help.

JOY: (noun) Intense or especially ecstatic or exultant happiness. (verb) To take great pleasure, rejoice.

PEACE: (noun) Inner contentment, serenity, peace of mind.

The feelings of the season. We see these words flashing through the bright store windows. They are hanging on our Christmas tree. They are sung in the holiday carols at church, and on the radio and in our homes.

These words embody my deepest wishes for 2011.

I want to have these feelings…not just one month a year, but all year round.

I want to remain hopeful come January.

I want to continually find joy in the New Year and beyond.

I yearn for inner peace every day of the year.

I’ve learned the hard way that life isn’t just about enduring. It is about LIVING.

And I want to LIVE.

I don’t want to lose hope in tomorrow. I don’t want the unknown to eat at my edges.

I don’t want to have ‘no joy.’ I’ve been there…and it is as miserable as it sounds. I am a firm believer that men are that they might find joy. We need to find a way to be happy in our current circumstances. OR, we need to find a way to change our current circumstances to find our happy.

I want to let go of the inner turmoil. I want to have peace of mind. I want to remember that the bad times do not last forever…that good times are always right around the corner.

Hope, Joy and Peace...save me holiday Superheroes! Help me find a brighter path through 2011!

Sure, some days I need to put my head down and just plain endure…but I have to remember that sometimes I need to raise my head on my own power…raise my head and SEE the beauty that is around me. SEE that this is my day…my time to mother. Our children are only children once and I don’t want mine remembering a mother that was miserable and simply endured the day to day. I want my boys to look back and see a mother who put the bad numbers behind her immediately…who didn’t let guilt rule her life. A mother who didn’t lament her child’s loss of insulin producing beta cells every day of the year…but instead, gloried in the fact that she can administer insulin for them…and they will LIVE.

And because they live…I want them to live life to the fullest, and I want to live life to the fullest.

There is a quote that says “90% of what we worry about never comes to pass.”

It is a big ol' fat waste of time to spend day after day in constant worry of what ‘could’ happen…when we can save that worry for a time when that something ‘actually’ happens.

Another quote says, “More damage is done by worrying, then what is being worried about.”

True dat.

So I look forward to 2011 with my greatest wishes being:

* To remain hopeful.

* To find joy always.

* To nurture my inner peace in the day to day diabetes grind.

I pray that the feelings of the season remain with me. I pray that when I do worry, (because it is inevitable,) that I will consciously make an effort to lift my head up out of the fog.

I pray that I when I force my head up, I will look at those around me and realize how lucky I am. Every day of the year.

I am blessed. This year, I hope I never lose sight of that...even when I do have a legitimate something to worry about.

On a side note: Thank you for making this such a memorable year for me. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for your love and support in your comments, you have no idea how much they mean to me. They fuel me...they carry me through the day to day diabetes grind. I have shed many tears reading your kind and helpful words. Thank you for your wonderful giving hearts. Thank you to those who write blogs. Your words bring me peace...knowing I'm not alone in all of this is priceless. This is a rare Christmas when most of my brothers and sisters and their families will be in town for the next week and a half. I'm going to be busy catching up with them and playing with my beyond adorable nieces and nephews. So if I'm unable to pop on before then:

Merry Christmas!

I would like to thank The Academy...(That would be you. :)

A funny thing happened on the way to my blog the other day…

I found out I was nominated for 3 DOC (Diabetic Online Community) Awards.

(Insert a moment of shock and awe here.)

I am completely grateful to those who thought my blog worthy for nominations in the following categories:

Blog most likely to put you in a good mood.

Best commenter.

Blogger I most want to meet offline.

WHOA! Let me tell you…I don't have no amazing personality or anything. I’m a normal pancreas…as pancreases go. Nothing to write home about…but I’m TOTALLY honored nonetheless!

The thing is, I am nominated with some of the most amazing bloggers. Bloggers that I faithfully follow and look up to. Being mentioned in the same breath as these stellar peeps, is already a win for sure!

So thanks to those who nominated me. :)

Now the real voting has begun and I think it would be a great thing if you pop over to HERE

That is here-----------> http://docawards.wordpress.com/ and vote.

Because I bet there are a number of your favorites in there, and whether you vote for me or not…it would be mighty kind of you to go show your favorite bloggers some love!

Nothing to sign in or log into or anything. Just click and vote. Easy peasy.

I’m going to go bask in the glory of Best Commenterdom…and hope that my ego doesn’t get too big for my britches. Because my britches are already too small as it is. ;( Can you say Christmas Cookie Palooza?!

It’s in the eye of the beholder

We check blood sugars around here like…a million times a day.

It is seriously no big deal. The blood…the poke…the test strips laying on the counter like wounded soldiers…it all doesn’t even faze us.

But throw another person in the room, a person who is not a member of your immediate family…a person who is an “outsider” in the diabetes world…and all of a sudden that million times a day moment blares like fog horn to your consciousness.

If someone else is watching us do a blood sugar check, or a set change or anything else, the craziness of what we are doing isn’t lost on us.

That is because we attempt to see the moment through the eyes of the visitor. When we do something as personal as taking care of our child’s well being, it can be hard, even agonizing, to share that with an outsider. Because once we do…we can’t pretend it is the most normal thing anymore. All of a sudden, the life saving things we do for our children…are weird. Or sad. Or any number of unpleasant emotions.

Even with Endos, when we let them into our world…we try to look at our life through their eyes. They don’t have the full picture of what has been going on in our home. Sure they have graphs and charts, but these things don’t tell half the story. Going to the endo is agonizing because we know we are going to have to explain our diabetic life to them…Our personal day to day, play by play, war with this disease. We battle so hard, it breaks our heart to think that our Endo may think we haven’t battled hard enough. We look at the information through their eyes and we know it doesn’t look good. And it makes us feel unfit to be pancreases.

But I digress.

B had a friend over last week.

We did everything in our power to make our family look as normal as we feel. It was set change night and we even postponed it until the next morning because the boys had enough insulin in their reservoirs and their numbers going to bed were brilliant.

We even skipped the 1:00 check.

My hubby and I went to bed at 11:30, and since the boys’ numbers continued to be brilliant, we thought we could skip that check and not disturb the boys in their makeshift tent.

So much for trying to be “normal.”

B woke up WHITE. He didn’t look good, he didn’t feel good and he said he threw up.

Check blood ketones…4.1

Checked site…full of blood.

He hadn’t gotten any insulin for how long? He was feeling it…and he was looking it.

So all the attempts of looking like the normal family flew out the window.

We had to do a million blood sugar checks.

We had to change his site.

The kid threw up, remember?

He was pale and as sick as he could be. He didn’t feel like playing. He wanted to lay on the couch. His plate of pancakes, eggs and bacon sat at the table alone, devoured only by the gravity of the moment and the empty chair sitting in front of it.

Crap like this happens MAYBE once a year. Maybe. And of all the nights it had to happen…

Is it any wonder that the little boy who slept over called his mother to pick him up early?

I went through the entire morning, witnessing the events through this boys eyes. I couldn’t wrap my head around what he thought of it all…but I know it was uncomfortable for him. No, we didn’t do set changes right in front of him. But we were running around worried, grabbing pumps from everyone and checking sugars constantly.

I didn’t like seeing it through his eyes.

It was sad. It was weird. It was not what I see.

Because what I see is an ordinary family, doing extraordinary things…that they have done SO many times…they seem ordinary.

In our bubble, we are normal as all get out.

But in the eyes of the beholder…in most cases…we are not.

Do I know that this little boy was uncomfortable? No.

Maybe he was just bored and I was reading too much into it.

The bottom line is…trying to guess what people are thinking of my family is exhausting. And a craps shoot at that. Does it really matter if people feel sorry for us? Does it really matter if a parent thinks I’m over protective, or a teacher thinks my son’s numbers always have to be perfect, or an endo doesn’t understand why I don’t just change basals rather than compensating for said basals through carb ratios?

Does it matter?

Only if I let it.

And I shouldn’t let it.

Because the only beholders eyes that matter are those of my sons…and my husband…and my very own.

As far as I behold…we are making the very best of a crappy situation.

As far as I behold…we are a blessed and happy family.

As far as I behold…blood sugar checks are no big deal. It is what it is.

As far as I behold…my boys lead happy semi-normal lives.

Which begs the question dear readers…

What else matters?

A guest post by M on Our Diabetic Life.

I've been crazy busy getting ready for Christmas, so when I asked M to guest post for me, I was pleasantly surprised when he immediately accepted the challenge. I had no idea what he was going to write, but now that he has finished, and I have read it through...it definitely made me smile. It has 15 year old written all over it.

S'up

This is the incredibly knowledgeable, handsome, and completely humble M.

Yeah, I know I’m pretty great. But right now that’s not the point. Actually, I’m not even sure what the point is right now, so I guess I’m just going to wing it.

I should probably explain what I’m like. I’m the kind of kid who wonders if there is a zoo exhibit in Africa titled “raccoons.” I love a good laugh and I’m relatively smart, or at least smart enough to get into some honors classes in school. I love NOR CAL, it runs within my blood. I like totally talk like this dude. But I guess I’ll be more sophisticated for this little article.

As far back as I can remember J had diabetes. It was just something that came with life. It never really bothered me. Of course, back when pumps didn’t exist, J had to have shots four times a day at least. It was pretty sad to watch at first, but he became stronger and shots really didn’t bother him anymore. Of course, I dreaded the idea of making myself bleed just to see if I had diabetes. Later we got a pump, and B and L were born, so it was even less of a deal. Life went on, and B and L were diagnosed. Those were dark times. But we persevered, and all seemed to just go with the flow. Now, where was I during these times? I was helping my brothers along, one step at a time by giving my brothers a comforting reassurance when it was needed, possibly checking their sugar, and just flat out helping.

Now-a-days, my bros don’t need help. And, with my mom starting a diabetes blog, and asking me to write about myself and what it’s like to be the only non diabetic child in a family, I would have to say it’s not that big of a deal. I mean, I get attention. I know that my bros need some time to check their sugar. Hey, more time for me to get first in line for dinner. I also LOVE the free dog. Lawton is the most adorable dog you will ever see.

What interests me more is that I see diabetes outside of just my three brothers. My grandma has type 2 and an uncle on my mom’s side has Type 1 Diabetes. My grandpa on my dad’s side has Type 2 Diabetes. Heck, I know someone at school with diabetes. He had to bow out of a band trip to Disneyland partially because of his diabetes.

By the way, fist bumps are a no-no when it comes to parent-teen bonding. It’s just too awkward dude…

So yeah, I love my brothers and all. I’m glad to be in a world where we can at least control diabetes. Sure, I’d also like this to be a world where learning didn’t involve homework and tests, but this is good too. I think I just ran out of stuff to write…oh, well. Hope you all found this informational.

Sincerely,

M

'Twas the Night Before Set Changes

‘Twas the night before set changes and all through the home
Every boy slept quite soundly, nary a moan.

The monitors sat on the counter with care,
Anticipating a parent soon would be there.

The children’s fingers were hiding warm under their cheeks
Safely hidden from needles, a welcome retreat.

And I in my robe, and Ryan in his shorts
Had just settled down, for a napper of sorts.

When out in the hall their arose such a clatter
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the door I flew like a flash,
My feet not touching the ground, a hasty worried filled dash.

When what to my blurry sleep deprived eyes should appear,
But one little boy staring at himself in the mirror.

His eyes all glazed over, his face no emotion to show
I knew at that moment my son must be low.

More rapid than reindeer I flew to the kits
Stepping over Legos, being careful not to trip.

Now Lancet, now monitor, now wet napkin too
On cocking the lancet, we have blood drawing to do!

To a finger so callused and speckled with dots
Now dash away, dash away, dash away sad thoughts!

As I checked his blood sugar to make sure all was well
I saw a number that made me swoon and I fell.

And then in a twinkling I saw above me,
My husband holding a juice box, to fix that 43.

He was dressed in his underwear, not a sock on his foot
And his hair was all tousled…he gave me a look.

His eyes bright with love and a crooked smile to match
He looked like a peddler, a cute one at that.

The lines around his eyes so wrinkly and tired
But his face shown of kindness and a hope unretired.

He helped me off the floor and he gave our son juice
I knew in a flash, he got his much needed boost.

I turned to our boy who began to giggle with glee
His pump shook up and down from his tummy clippy.

He was out of it; his jolliness seemed out of place
But I chuckled despite that blank look on his face.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word but went straight back to sleep
His fingers under his pillow, shoved down there deep.

And giving him a kiss just the side of his nose
I went back to my room, cursing the lows.

I set my alarm and gave my husband a squeeze
I whispered to angles, “A little sleep help please?”

But I heard a faint echo ‘ere I closed my eyes tight
“Love you mom and dad…see you later tonight.”

Is that “almost low” a threat young man!?

L has been bringing the big guns lately.

He’ll check his sugar, and if he is even borderline low, he’ll say…”I’m ALMOST low! I need to eat.”

And then I’ll usually say something practical like, “You are ok, dinner is in five minutes.” Or, “We will be home in a couple minutes and we’ll get you a snack ASAP.”

Where he will retort, “But MOMMMMMMM! I’m almost in the 50’S! I could be in the danger zone ANY minute!” (As he throws his hands in the air and snorts impatiently.)

He’s good. I gotta give him that.

So what the heck is a mom to do? She can’t say, “Your being dramatic L! Lows don’t happen THAT quickly.” Because as we all know…they can.

And I do make a big deal about him being low in school and eating immediately...no putting off snacks, (not even 5 minutes.)

So I’ve been inclined to let him win this one.

If he says he is “almost low,” (Which usually is 70’s-80’s,) I’ve been letting him eat immediately.

So I hand him a banana...

There are far worse things than giving your child a banana, right?

But part of me doesn’t want to play this game anymore. Scare tactics aren’t welcome in this house. I want him to always listen to the cues his body gives him…but he needs to be reasonable in times of “almost” need.

As a result I’ve made a decision of sorts…I’ve decided if it is after school in the car, I’ll let him eat something…’cause that kid can CRASH after school. But, If we are literally going to eat dinner in 5 minutes…I will give him a tickle, tell him I would NEVER let anything happen to him, and let him know if he waits just a few minutes, he will be ok.

That is my plan anyway…

As long as these eyes don’t get to me first…

Nope, not Easter...but the bunny stopped by for a visit!

Not more than a half hour ago I found this big beauty on my front porch!







The boys are going to be SO EXCITED when they get home!

Thank you K2~ I won this just by commenting on her blog. But between you and me, I would have commented anyway...Diabetesaliciousness is DA BOMB!

Love Kelly!

And Blue Bunny Ice Cream! Holla!

Diabetes: The guy who lives in the crawl space in the attic of my brain.

Today is the last day of Diabetes Awareness Month. I have blogged for 30 days straight and everyone must wonder, “What could Meri possibly have left to say?”

I wonder the same thing. But deep down I feel a small nudge. Something inside of me says there is something important left to say…and right now I am struggling to find the words.

I think it is so hard, because it is so personal.

The thing is…I don’t think about diabetes much.

Say huh? I know you are staring laser eye darts at the screen right now wondering what the hell I am talking about, but let me tell you…

I don’t think about DIABETES much.

I think about blood sugars. I think about carb counts and food. I think about trends and the safety of my boys. Yes, I think about those things all day long.

But what I don’t think about is what the word Diabetes really does mean to our life.

* How Diabetes affects my boys.

* How it will affect their futures.

* What it means to have this disease branded on to everything they do.

I just think about the day to day. The big picture, well…that is WAY too much for my psyche to handle.

I used to think about Diabetes as a whole. I used to think about it all the time, and that got me into a mess of a depression that took many many months to shake. But I know better now. Obsessing about diabetes and how unfair it is was only toxic to my well being. Thinking about how the highs are messing with my sons’ insides in ways I don’t want to even comprehend…well that is stuff I can’t think about anymore. ‘Cause if I did…I would really be mad. Not angry mad…more like psycho mad.

That is why I’m all cheery and sappy and counting blessings all the time and stuff.

The dark side of diabetes is no good to dwell on.

I have to FORCE myself to look at the bright side of it all. And you know what…there truly is a bright side. I have found that it is SO bright…you can snuff out the darkness if you stay positive and know you are doing your best.

I have always said: You can’t do better than your best.

Period.

So as I end this month, I want my readers to know that just because I dwell on the positive, doesn’t mean I am not 100% aware of all the negatives this disease has to throw at me and my sweet boys. Woe is me has gotten me nowhere…it dug me deeper into the abyss of misery and despair, and despite what anyone else says, negativity does not motivate a parent who has a child with Type 1 Diabetes. Sure, sometimes you need to tell people about the negatives to educate properly. That is part of why the “walk to cure” season is so hard for many of us. We are forced to write a letter that makes us look smack into the face of the reality of this disease. The sucky reality, I might add.

It isn’t easy to look diabetes in the face and say, “I know you. I know what you can do, and you scare me.” It isn’t easy, and it isn’t necessary to do every day of the year. Sure, we need to face reality once in awhile to keep us on our toes, but other than that…I choose to stay in my happy place. The place where I love my very best. Do my very best. And hope my very best.

That is where I need to be.

That is where my blog is right now.

So if it seems I’m too blasé about diabetes and how it affects our family…know that deep in the recesses of my swelly brain, I DO know the realities of all of this. But I choose to stuff it, and will continue to…until one day it all comes to the surface and I have to cleanse it off with my tears.

On my bad days, I’ll be here counting my blessings.

On my good days, I’ll be here dripping in happy thoughts.

Because that is truly what “Our Diabetic Life” is all about.

Out with the old, and in with the new!

It has been a rocky Thanksgiving holiday…blood sugar wise.

Since the first night the boys had no school…wonky city.

No rhyme or reason to nothing. Blood sugars went where they wanted to go without any mind to the boluses I threw at them.

A couple days in I was bolusing the boys 40% more insulin for their meals.

I thought, WOW! They must really get a lot more exercise at school.

I upped B’s and L’s basals too.

It was getting to be too much. I’ve been so overwhelmed with it, I even haven’t had it in me to read blogs this week. Shameful! I totally know!

Every day one of the boys would have an out of the stratosphere kinda number, (or two...or three.) Totally from left field, you know? And no…none of those numbers were low.

I was feeling defeated.

Until Saturday afternoon after we changed out the boys pump sets yet again…

And BAM! Just like it all began…it ended.

We have only achieved blood sugar nirvana since those set changes.

The boys’ numbers have been brilliant…with a few lows in between.

What changed?

We had done a couple set changes last week with no change in numbers…but this set change made all the difference in the world!

Yes…a new bottle of insulin.

The old insulin sucked lemons.

BOOO! to bad old insulin that made me half mad with guilt and wracked me with the feeling of total ineptitude.

BOO!

BOO!

Hooray for a fresh batch! I can feel my sanity slowly entering back into my swelly brain…slowly, like sand in an hour glass…

But regardless of the sanity's snail like pace…it is coming.

The boys are going back to school today…AND I found a couple of my marbles.

I’m back baby!

I’m reading blogs today! It feels good to come out of the fog!

Did someone say it was 'Special Sib to a D Kid Day?'

Today has been dubbed Special Sib to a D kid day.

And as it so happens…I have one of those.

M. :)

M has always been just a good kid. His first grade teacher actually wrote on his report card that M was going to be a good father. All his teachers would write of his kind heart and his sweet nature. They would try to credit us…but honestly, the truth is M was born that way.

That is why watching him grow up has been so hard…

M is 15 and a half now. That pretty much sums it up. He is finding his way to independence and for the most part, he doesn’t look to me for emotional or academic support anymore.

It seems to have happened over night. But here he is, growing and maturing.

I have resorted to writing letters to tell him how amazing I think he is. He doesn’t really want to hear me gushing over him anymore. He spends more and more time in his room, on the computer looking up computer game strategies or talking/texting his friends.

Don’t get me wrong, he is still a sweetheart. He just is withdrawing from the kid life, and finding his way into adulthood. He is even taking a driving permit on line course right now…scary on so many levels!

I don’t know. I’m a little sad as I write this. I miss the child that he was. He still laughs and plays and jokes around with his brothers. He still hugs me and says I love you, even if it IS mumbled. :)

But what M has always been…what has never wavered…what he excels at, is his support of his brothers in their struggle with diabetes.

He worries for them. He tries to take the sting out if it on hard days. He understands when life needs to stop for his brothers. He gets when they need to eat the first piece of toast out of the toaster. He doesn’t complain when one of them gets a treat and he doesn’t. He totally gets diabetes, and he holds no bad feelings towards the attention it gets.

He honestly is just glad he doesn’t have to deal with it. He is sure that he wouldn’t be as strong as his brothers. He sees what they endure, and he is thankful beyond measure that he doesn’t have to be poked and feel the effects of the highs and the lows.

This post isn't what I imagined it to be. He is just changing, and growing up so fast. Regardless...don't let my sad undertone fool you...M is an awesome brother. I am so proud of who he is. I look ahead and only see an amazing life for him. It is exciting to be a part of it. I love him so much, and I am so very thankful of his empathy and understanding of Our Diabetic Life.