What do you say?

What do you say when your 12 yo daughter tells you that she hasn't been giving herself needed insulin because she's afraid her blood sugar will drop? What do you say when she tells you that her biggest fear is that her sugar will drop too low during the night and she won't wake up?

How do I comfort her when that is *my* biggest fear too?

Through the last two years, I've learned, yet again, how strong I can be. There are days when I'm not strong at all, and there are times when I wish I didn't have to be strong. But I'm a mom. And moms do what their children need them to do. So I've become a mom who bakes gluten free bread, who has a shoebox full of insulin vials in her fridge. I've gone from fainting at the sight of needles to giving shots. I've gone from "HOLY CRAP! YOUR SUGAR IS WHAT?!?!" to calling the nurses line and calmly explaining what's going on, getting their instructions, praying for the best, all the while planning just what I'll juggle if the child has to go to the hospital.

I hope, with all of my heart, that none of you ever have to experience this because it's honestly the hardest thing I've ever had to do. In those moments, nothing else really matters.

And then there are the moments like last night, when Shannon told me that her sugar's been dropping too low after she gives herself insulin. We think her basal rate was too high, so we adjusted it a bit. And we talked. A lot.

We talked about how she's awakened in the past because her sugar was low and she "felt weird." We talked about how she's not truly my child....she's God's child. We talked about how God loves her, which led to a discussion of how a loving God "gives" a child this disease. We talked about what it would be like if Rumplestiltskin (Shrek Forever After) took that one day, the one day she started to get sick. Would I let that happen? I told her I wasn't sure. I would take the disease on myself, in a heartbeat, if given the chance. We talked about finding blessings in the midst of this struggle. And we talked about how she does not have to carry this alone. Ever.

She may have to take my face in her hands to get my full attention, because I'm always doing about 7 things at a time, but I would listen and I would help, and I would help her carry the load; figure things out.

It still breaks my heart, really. Like I've said before, my heart shattered the day they were diagnosed, and I'm not sure I'll ever quite put all the pieces back together.

Giveaways and Guilt

Isn't that a catchy title? LOL!

I wish I could say "Giving Away the Guilt," but really I'm not there yet.

See, today, I cleaned out the pantry in the kitchen. As I tried to shove the syrup and peanut butter back in there this morning, I decided that the time had come. I'll never quite understand why someone has to put the box of Triscuits back in there with exactly *3* crackers in it, or why, for the love, can't folks check UPSTAIRS before they raid the stash downstairs. I found *3* boxes of Wheat Thins. All open, all mostly full, and all stale. Bleck! I'm making a sign. We'll see if it works.

Added 2 more bags to the count, and now I can easily put the cereal, peanut butter, and flour away where it belongs!

Now to the point of this post.....(you knew I'd get there eventually, right?)

I gave away my cookie cutters. Again.

Here's the reality. I'm not a cookie cutter mom. Somewhere in my Jane Cleaver-SAHM delusions, I think I should be. But the truth of the matter is, I'm not. I don't like sugar cookies. Shannon can't eat regular sugar cookies, and gluten free ones don't stand up to rolling and cutting and the like. We don't do salt dough around here, either.

I'm not a cookie cutter mom. So, I gave the whole box of cookie cutters to my neighbor. And I feel a touch of guilt about that. But then I realize that having the cookie cutters lurking in the back of the cupboard actually fuels more guilt, reminding me of who I think I should be and who I'm not. So, today I'm embracing that little factoid about myself.

I'm not a cookie cutter mom. And that's okay.

On Birthdays and Extended Family

(editted to fix the title....no idea how that happened!)

Bruce's birthday was this week. So was my Dad's, and MIL's.

On one side of the aisle, you have my parents.....

Dad is rather non-chalant about these things. He doesn't need or want anything, and he was perfectly happy with the kids calling to sing to him.

Mom, notsomuch.

She mails cards so that they arrive *on* the day. She was quite dismayed to realize that Monday, being a federal holiday, meant no mail, which screwed up her timeline. She was further dismayed to learn that Bruce would be out of town for his birthday. "But when will you celebrate?" she practically wails......Sunday, mom. "But that's not his biiiiirthdaaay." Mom, he's in his 40s. THE day isn't nearly so important as celebrating as a family.

In person, this statement would lead to a rather funny look, much like a dog looks when they're curious and confused....cocked head, ears up, etc. This statement simply DOES NOT compute for her.

On the other side of the aisle, we have the Outlaws.

*sigh*

MIL is getting older and more and more forgetful, so cards are a thing of the past. I don't think any of us are sad about this, and I've been careful not to mention anything about it either way to the kids. MIL's cards, in the past, were those flowery, over-the-top, sappy, drippy, and often religious things. Bleck!

And, of course, the Outlaws own one of those magic phones that only RECEIVES long-distance calls. So there was no phone call for Bruce's birthday.

Bruce forgot to call his mom ON her actual birthday, so he wished her a Happy Birthday this afternoon, apologizing for forgetting. MIL commented on it, and mentioned that everyone called except one SIL (the one married to my PITA-Presbyterian-Minister BIL; same family that "visited" less than an hour away last summer and didn't bother to call us and let us know....clearly there are issues there, and I'm sure one of them is "you didn't call me; I'm not calling you" fueled by her oh-so-helpful-husband. But I digress......)

Bruce mentioned all of this to me after he got off the phone (and after telling his mom she probably wouldn't recognize any of the kids *snerk*). I pointed out that the phone does, in fact, work both ways. Double standard much, MIL?

And that brings me to something interesting I've been thinking about lately.

MIL is 84 and not in the best of health. I'm trying to be compassionate about that, but it's somewhat like dealing with a rabid dog. You feel bad for the animal, but you don't put yourself in harm's way because of that compassion.

As I watched all of this unfold this week, the lesson really seemed to be one about giving. People love my husband. They love me and they love my children. In this earthly plane, much of that love is "earned" by our willingness to give to others. What you put out there comes back to you. Bruce is willing to loan out his trailer and/or his services to help neighbors and friends. He fixes broken doors and installs new doorknobs. He shows up when there's work to be done and he doesn't stop until the job is complete. In return, one neighbor generously snow-blows my driveway when Bruce is out of town. Another takes care of our pets when we travel. Need a rototiller? Someone's got one we can use.

I think you get the idea.

MIL, on the other hand, does very little. She doesn't mail cards anymore (her eyesight is failing) and she doesn't make phone calls. She's no longer willing to travel. It seems she's less and less involved at her church as well. And yet, she expects that people are falling all over themselves to show her how special she is on her special day.

Okey-dokey, MIL.

My mom....well, that's another post. :-)

Mom's at it again

and I'm really trying not to let it bother me.

But it does.

Mom and Dad missed Tristan's confirmation because Melany graduated from nursing school the same weekend. I understood and it was fine. I actually flew up there so I could be there for that, and then flew home at the butt-crack of dawn on Saturday morning (because that was the ONLY flight) so I could be at both. I truly understood that my parents couldn't be both here and there and there was other family at Mel's graduation, plus a party for her on Sunday afternoon, and so forth.

But now they're going to miss Shannon's confirmation too.

Because mom has "finally talked Dad into a cruise through the San Juan Islands" and the cruise is around that same time.

Okay.

So don't complain to me about missing out on important things happening in my children's lives when you're actively *choosing* to miss out, thankyouverymuch.

Another anniversary

We passed another milestone this weekend.

Shannon's been diabetic for a year, since March 21, 2009.

It seems a little weird to think about it as we're still adjusting in many ways. Recently, we've had to adjust her insulin to carb ratio for various meals because her sugar was spiking at specific times during the day. But now, with the weather improving, she's become more active, and we had a devil of a time getting her blood sugar high enough last night so that she could go to bed! (It has to be above 100 before bed because blood sugar naturally drops during the night and diabetics don't have the 'reserve' sugar in the liver for the body to cover that drop).

Every now and then, it hits me once again that this craziness is my life....usually when I'm sweeping up used test strips or grousing at the kids for leaving their used needles around (while they each deny responsibility....some things never change!). It seems so surreal!

Other times, I'm amazed at just how much knowledge I've accumulated over the last year, particularly about gluten! Did you know, for instance, that most orange soda is made with malt and is therefore NOT gluten-free? Yeah, me neither, at least not a year ago! Meals out are a challenge, so we don't go out very often, which really isn't a bad thing. Mexican is usually okay, as long as she avoids flour tortillas. Asian is out because the most popular brand of soy sauce for restaurants is fermented with wheat (Kikkoman. LaChoy is safe). There are a couple of noodle restaurants that have gluten-free options (Old Spaghetti Factory and Noodles & Company). Who'da thunk that it would be the pasta joints that would be so accomodating?! I can't remember the last time I bought a can of condensed soup....they're ALL made with wheat starch or barley or something. That's been a big challenge for my cooking since many of my "old standbys" start with cream soup as the base. I've found decent substitutes for most of the casseroles, though.

I checked out more gluten-free cookbooks from the library and I've put a hold on a couple of others, trying to find more recipes to draw from for baked goods. Today I'm going to make a batch of GF chocolate chip cookies, and I need to make a loaf of GF bread for lunches too. I haven't decided if I'm going to try a new recipe or go with the standby. Maybe I'll try the new one and if Shannon doesn't like it, I can make her regular loaf this evening?

It's been a challenge, and it's stretched me in ways I did not want to be stretched. As a mother, it breaks my heart to see my children suffer. I'd take it on myself, in a heartbeat, if I were given the choice. That's been an amazing lesson for me, and for the kids. I know they sometimes think Mom is an idiot, but they know deep down just how much I love them. This has brought us closer as a family, as we work together to manage the challenges that come up. I think, too, it's shown the children just how strong they can be. They're learning to make choices that will impact both their short-term and long-term health, and I hope that those lessons will carry over to other areas of their lives. They're learning to deal with some pretty heavy emotions. They're learning that they are not alone, as our family, friends, and neighbors encourage and support them.

These are all great lessons, but I can't help but wish they were learning them another way.

Rest In Peace, sweet Ginger

I had to make the decision today to put Alana's guinea pig to sleep. The vet said she was critical and gave her less than a 50/50 chance. She said that these 'prey' animals tend to just roll over and give up when they get sick and really, that's what Ginger was doing.

Shannon's devastated. I hated having to be the one to make the choice, but when I asked the vet what she would do, she said she'd put her down. It just all came on so suddenly. Sunday she was fine, held and loved by the girls. Yesterday afternoon, she was lethargic and today she was almost non-responsive, not eating, not drinking, the works.

Thing is, she was a YOUNG pig, less than a year old and it seems like such a shame. I had pigs as a kid that lived for years and years, no health problems, nothing. The vet says they're just not as hardy as they used to be; too much inbreeding.

Shannon's home sick today, so she's sipping cocoa and crying. Alana will find out when she gets home from school. Don't know if I should clean up the cage and everything and put it all away or if it would be good for Alana to help me with that.

*sigh* Adulthood really sucks sometimes!

And all of this happens just as I'm vowing to stop whining and complaining on my blog! Really, I stood there the vet's office, trying to decide what to do, knowing in my heart that the treatment plan she was proposing would not work and we were going to lose her no matter what, but not quite wanting to admit it. I thought I was prepared to lose her, but when the time came to decide, that was really, really hard. I found myself wondering why *I* was in charge of this. Well, because I'm the mom, that's why. But, wait, when did I become the responsible grown-up? Is there a way to undo that? Because, at times like this, I really really really want someone else to be in charge.

Shannon is pretty upset, and that, in turn, upsets me. Ginger was a sweet animal. Inquisitive and fun to have. She loved brocolli, even though it really wasn't good for her, so we limited what she'd eat. She was okay on carrots, but spinach and parsley were favorites too.

Alana's not home from school yet, but I think she'll handle this better than her sister. I told her this morning that Ginger wasn't looking good and I was worried that she wouldn't make it. Alana told me if Ginger died, we'd get another guinea pig.

We'll have a piggy funeral this evening, though I'm not sure where we'll put her to avoid sprinkler lines. I'll get one of those stepping stone kits for the girls to make too.

I don't know how to guide them through their grief. I want to make it go away. More accurately, I want it to be gone so I don't have to watch them hurt. But I don't want to rush them or discount their feelings of loss and sadness either. I've read several online articles on the subject, but I still feel woefully inadequate.

*sigh*

Dear Mom...

If you're always right, where does that leave me?

A Quick Mom Funny

We all know that my mother drives me crazy. I'm actually using this time to step back and observe, or at least try to, so I can figure out how to have a relationship with her that doesn't make me nuts all the time.

So, last night, we're having taco salad for dinner and mom only has 5 bowls. There are 7 of us. She tells me she has a job for me, and my job is to find enough bowls for all of us, or would plates work? She told me, at least three times, that she "didn't care" what we used. I said the adults could use plates and the kids bowls. She didn't come right out and say it, but it was clear that was NOT what she had in mind. So, I take out her 5 cereal-type bowls, and found a couple others.

Oh, no, we can't use that one....it has a chip in it, see?
So, if we're not using it, why are we keeping it?
WE'RE NOT! I JUST HAVEN'T GOTTEN AROUND TO THROWING IT AWAY!
(oops)
So, I find another bowl and I leave the 7 on the counter.

Guess what?

Yeah, I know you're all brilliant.

She completely rearranged what I had planned, choosing other bowls, arranging them on the table, etc.

*sigh*