Metaphor?

I know some of you are jealous of my ultra glamorous life.  And rightfully so.

I have four really awesome boys.

They are fun, and handsome and everything a mama bear could want.

But we have our adventures like everyone else. 

You know, sometimes things happen out of nowhere that are no ones fault whatsoever.  Things that are totally out of our hands and are what smarter people than me have deemed “par for the course.”

One of those moments happened this morning. 

This kind of thing so ultra rare, a blog post like this should be worth millions.  I mean it’s THAT rare.  Stuff like this n.e.v.e.r happens around here.

This mother is so prepared for everything, that something like this happening just doesn’t happen.  Well, you know…maybe once in a blue moon.  Or maybe once every other leap year. 

Practically never ever.

(I’ll let you figure out for yourself which words above these words here, are truth or fantasy.)

Anyway, back to the story…

This morning I dropped the boys off to school and as 11-year-old B was jumping out of the car he said, “Oops.  I only have 1 unit of insulin left in my pump.”

Now if I believed in tough love I would have been all, “Well it’s your fault mister!  You’ll just have to do without all. day. long.  And think about what you’ve done!”

But I’m a softy.

Looking at the clock I saw I had 30 minutes until I absolutely had to be at work and thanks to our entire city being under construction, I was 20 minutes away from home.

 As veteran D Mom problem solving scenarios were flying through my swelly brain at light speed.  The first logical one was going home, filling a reservoir and sending it back with my 18 year old. 

“If I send a reservoir, can you go through the steps to prime it and get it done?  You can just attach it to the old set and after school I’ll insert a new one.”

((Blank stare))  He’s done it a few times along side me, but he’s unsure.

“I can try.”  He says.

Okay.  Better plan!

“Give yourself that one unit of insulin to cover the missed basal and give me your pump.  I’ll get it set up and your brother can bring it to you in less than an hour.”

The game was afoot! 

Now this next part has nothing to do with the end of the story.  The end of the story is M drives the pump to B.  He gets it and his sugars end up being brilliant all day long.  You don’t have to keep reading, it’s ok.  But I just need to get this off my chest.

The traffic.  You know that feeling when you’re in traffic and you need to be somewhere ASAP?  I’m assuming you do, because every other car on the road apparently felt the same way I did.  Which logic then dictates you’ve been there too and know exactly what I’m talking about.  Anyway, I was feeling that feeling, hard.

The city has an entire section of roadway under construction; so three lanes must merge into one lane and go 2 miles an hour until allowed to again spread into two lanes again. 

Everybody knows what is going to happen ahead.  Everybody KNOWS.  But there are the few that think their lives are more harried than everybody else’s, and they go into the lane that is obviously closing RIGHT ahead, just to get four cars ahead of everybody else.  You know these people.  They don’t make eye contact.  They pretend they didn’t know the lane was closing.  But it’s been a month people.  We know you know.

And as I sat in my lane doing all the right things, I was forced to accommodate these leaches who suck out my happiness to take off an extra minute from their commute.  And the worst part of it all: I almost always catch up to these offenders a couple lights ahead.  All of their A-holishness is for not.  We are at the same place.  Turns out they never even gain a minute, they gain seconds.

Pile onto this the fact that the construction company people set up for their roadwork at exactly 8:00am, when we are trying to get our kids to school, and get to work.  They have to know that the majority of the city population starts work at 9am.  If they waited just one hour lives would be changed, people might actually like the city again, and this D Mom’s head wouldn’t explode every livelong day.

I looked at the faces of the people cutting in and almost hitting other cars, and I tried to understand their lives.  I tried to make up stories that made their actions ok.  I tried to pretend they have children with medical issues too.  Or they can’t be late or they’ll be fired.  Or something. 

But then I looked at myself in the mirror, and there I was, following all the rules…and still…nothing is easy.

Even though I’m always prepared!  (Sarcasm font.  Where is the sarcasm font button?)

I’m doing the best I can.  I’m trying to be a good person.  I’m trying.

But even though everything in front of me says chaos, (see: traffic metaphor,) I can’t shake the feeling that one day the sea will part and there in front of me will be redemption.

I don’t know how it’s possible.  In fact if I think about it, all I can think of are reasons for it not to be possible.  It’s hard not to doubt good things lie ahead.

I heard a quote recently that struck that handy “truth chord” I have in my soul, and that quote was “Doubt your doubt before you doubt your faith.”

So I’ll keep following rules, and trying my best, and maybe even try to be a little more prepared, spiritually and diabetically, and I’ll let the fates take care of the rest.

Because (as I say over and over again,) I can’t do better than my best.

And that my friends, is apparently what passes for a blog post these days from moi. 

(DEEP BOW)