Diabetes

I got news last night that Uncle John will be having surgery on one of his feet as a complication of diabetes. He's battled that illness all of his life having been diagnosed as a very young adult. I'm writing asking for prayers that the vascular surgery goes well and the circulation to his feet and legs improves and that they won't have to take away more tissue than they anticipate.

It is a funny thing about diabetes. People are perfectly willing to nag and cajole -- even feel self righteous when talking to somebody with diabetes. They're easy targets. More than any disease, I think diabetes is one where people feel perfectly fine blaming the patient. "It is your fault your sugars are so out of control. Have you no will power?" "When are you going to start exercising?" The future is dire for any diabetic. Increased risk of heart attack, stroke, blindness, kidney failure, amputation, nerve damage, etc. There are so many great *reasons* to motivate somebody who loves a diabetic to be all fire and brimstone.

But it isn't really fair.

One would never scold a cancer patient for having gotten cancer. The same needs to hold true for diabetes. Consider this, for the diabetic person, they're going along on their daily life when there is an change. They're super thirsty all the time, or they pee a lot -- and then what? They go in, get checked, and then are told that for the rest of the conceivable future, they've got a deadly disease that can be managed, won't stop you in your tracks immediately, but will ultimately catch up with you. Oh, and by the way, if you're not totally on board with the lifestyle changes, everybody you know that loves you will scold you on a daily basis when you so much as think about a cupcake for dessert.

So I'm changing my attitude. I've stopped nagging. I've stopped being judgmental. Ask me my opinion, I'll give it, but I'll try not to be a pain when giving it. If you ask if you should have a cupcake versus an apple and cheese slices, I'll tell you the latter is a better choice. But I'll stop blaming you and try to be compassionate first, always. I'll have the faith that your own inner voice is telling you what you need to be doing.

Perhaps if I shut up, you'll be able to listen to yourself.

Lil'T and the alphabet revisited

This is the video of Lil'T's version of the alphabet song. You'll notice some omissions, especially at the end. I am mourning the loss of "Emily" in place of "Elemeno," but I'm getting over it. When counting, she also forgets the 4 and goes straight to 5. It has something to do with holding up her fingers while counting. When she gets to 4, she can't hold her thumb down so she just skips it. 1, 2, 3, 5... Next year will suck for her because she'll have turned 4 but won't be able to say her age or just show her fingers. I'm sure we'll figure something out.

Mommy mouse crazy

Last night we had supper club. It was a fantastic meal with good company and great Sangria! (Thanks Deb and welcome to the club.) Anyway, those of you who have been to my house know that my mother is eternally ashamed of my lack of house keeping skills. I truly do suck at it. It isn't her fault. I'm just bad at it. I also live with 3 agents of chaos plus my husband. That is not to say that I am not a contributor to the clutter, but it is easier to blame it on them than on myself. Plus, I typically don't leave my legos, dolls and reams of artwork lying around the house. But I am getting off point. So this past week and especially Saturday, there was a lot of running around, cleaning up, and getting things ready for the dinner party.

I did a lot of errands yesterday. Princess had a birthday party at the Grand Forest and needed to be picked up at the park afterwards. I also had to get last minute ingredients for the fish tacos which were my contribution to the dinner. Along with prepping and cooking the meal, I had to pick up our babysitter who lives in the next town over. Oh what a day!

So this morning, I woke up to a day which was surprisingly beautiful. Sun was shining but this being Spring, there was still a little bit of chill in the air. I got out of bed and picked up the hoodie that I was wearing yesterday during all my errands. Don't tell me you've never done that -- grabbed something out of the dirty laundry saying to yourself, "What was I thinking to have put that in there..." So don't judge me. I went to the dining room which was looking sparkly clean and I sat to have a leisurely cup of coffee with my darling husband.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something on my left shoulder -- I thought that my hair must be blowing in the breeze. But wait -- I was inside the house. There was no flippin' breeze. WTF was that?!? I jumped out of my chair ran my fingers through my hair as fast as I could, pulled on the neck of my jacket and screamed, "Oh GOD!!! Oh GOD!!! There's something in my hair!!!" My husband was not compassionate at all but he did look through my hair. While I was on full freak out mode, my back turned towards him, he looked through my hair and yelled, "AAAAHHHHH!!!" in a completely believable panicky fashion. I jumped about 3 feet in the air and start tearing off my jacket and wildly swinging my head around to shake off the nasties in my hair. To which my husband just laughed uncontrollably. He told me that he couldn't resist scaring me. So he calmed me down and proceeded to look through my hair again.

This is what he said to me, "Honey, I don't see anything here. There's nothing here... Oh wait."

Oh. Wait.

Those two words sent me off the deep end again. Again with the screaming, the jumping up and down, the pulling at my clothes and shaking my head around. Meanwhile, my husband was doubled over laughing at me. He later told me that he sincerely thought that there was something there when he said, "Oh wait..." Unlike the panicked "AAAHHHHH!!!" from earlier, he was not just playing with me. He also said that the minute "oh wait," left his mouth, he knew the reaction it was going to get from me.

My sweet daughter came out from her room dressed for school and also refused to look for the bug in my hair. But she sat down in my seat at the table and within a few minutes screamed and ran from the table just like her mother. There was a inchworm on the seat next to hers. That inchworm was probably on my jacket from the previous day. That inchworm scared the bejeesus out of me.

Later, my husband told Princess,"Mommy went crazy. She went eating-your-babies crazy. Like if you were mice, she would have eaten you right up -- that's how crazy she went."

There are only a few times I've seen my husband laughing so hard that he couldn't breathe. This morning was one of them. Face all pink and almost falling on the floor.

I'm glad to have been of entertainment.

Thar she blows!

Last week was our Spring Break. The first weekend was Hubby's mother's birthday so we had wanted to head out on Friday after his work and make it to So. Cal. by Sunday, Gram's actual birthday. Sadly, last week, Lil'T and I became human tubes with the stomach flu. Nothing stayed down and everything ran for the closest exits with frightening speed. At one point in the middle of the night while I was retching into a bucket, I actually started weeping. (cue violins) I begged my body to realize that the grilled chicken ceasar that was dinner was long gone and nothing was left inside. I was empty, but in perfectionist mode, my body continued to heave nothing but air for several hours that first night. On Tuesday morning, I while I rested, Lil'T climbed in to our bed and proceeded to vomit all over it. So she and I camped out on the sofa for a good part of the week watching endless hours of Nick Jr. and Dora the Explorer. (I'm the Map, I'm the Map, I'm the Map, I'm the Map, I'm THE MAP!) Lil'T didn't stop spewing until Sunday. We started our journey on Monday and SURPRISE, Lil'T had one last bit of sick in her. Nothing like cleaning your kid up in the parking lot of a Carl's Jr.

I do need to brag a little bit though. Lil'T at 3 years old is the most conscientious vomiter of our brood. Our son was famous for having the bucket in front of his face and turning his head away at the last moment to hit the floor. Once, on a road trip, he actually woke us all in the middle of the night screaming. He then rolled over and went back to sleep. After about 10 minutes, he sat up, vomited on the comforter, and then proceeded to lie down and go back to sleep. Just like a rock star. Are you kidding me? In contrast, Lil'T will always ask for her bucket. Of course it is the 3 gallon, very dramatic bucket with a handle. She could fit in this bucket with room for a rubber duckie. She will cry for it but if it isn't in reach, when she will vomit directly into a toilet, sink, or other within reach vessel. Unless she's in bed and can't get to the edge fast enough. At least she cries. I can be woken from a sound sleep to full alertness by the sound of a whimpered, "Bucket..."

I'll post more on our trip later. Highlights though: Legoland, visiting with family and friends, Laguna Beach & Monterey Bay Aquarium.