A Halloween preview....

 

Scary spiders are on the move...

Marc asked me as we left the endo office last week if I was going to be upset if O's A1c went back up and I gave him a whole "It's not a matter of if, but when" speech, complete with my full understanding of all the things that are sure to come up and disrupt her numbers as she grows - like stress, illness, puberty - and that we would just have to roll with the punches. And then we went home and O immediately got sick from her flu shot and her BS shot way up and stayed there and now I'm all, "Oh crap, there goes her A1c!!"

O had her 3 month endo appointment yesterday and her A1C was 6.9, down from 7.4 last time. She just recently came off a stretch of about 7 weeks where her blood sugars were excellent - we couldn't have screwed things up if we tried. Things have been a little jumpier here lately; she had a scary low of 47 a couple of days ago. (One good thing did come of that: O told me in no uncertain terms that she was low...."BloodSugarI'mHungryIWantMilk!" and I was able to talk with her more about how she feels when she's low and how important it is to tell someone.) She had eaten at least 30 carbs and gotten what has become a pretty standard one unit of Humalog for lunch, but she had also played hard at playgroup (a first!). She just crashed.

Go back and take a look at how many numbers there are in the above paragraph.

I am not a numbers person. I am sludge-like with even the simplest math. And yet, number-crunching, clock-watching, percentage-calculating, carb-counting has become my life.

What was the blood sugar?
Count the carbs.
Calculate a correction.
Draw up the units.
Watch the clock.
Dilute insulin.
What's the date?
Check the A1c.
Repeat daily, weekly, monthly.

I know that there will be even more as she gets older. Cholesterol and blood pressure. Appointments on the calendar with more specialists. More clock-watching and scheduling. Regimented and time-consuming.

It is easy to get caught up in it, to think that the numbers decide whether a day will be good or bad. But really in the short time that we have been dealing with this, I think that we have all done a pretty good job of living beyond the numbers. O makes it easy...those calculations mean nothing to her. She simply wants to feel good, play hard, and eat melba toast every day. My job is to make that happen. And I'll do everything in my power to do so...even math.

I love, love, love this.

I think someone learned a new word...

Tonight, reading The Cat in the Hat:

"What's a gown?"

"This is a gown right here."

"Actually, that's a dress."

"OK, yes, you are right, but a gown is the same...wait, what?"

Later

"Is that a toy?"

"It's a stool, for sitting."

"Actually, it's to stand on while I wash my hands."

I am leaving Olivia overnight Saturday for the first time since she was diagnosed. I am equal parts rabbity panic and WOOHOOOOO! I'M OUTTA HERE, SUCKERS!!!!!!!!!

I neeeeeeed this break, even if it is only going to be about 30 hours. I've been having a hard time dealing with O's moments of toddler-induced hysteria lately and if you have gotten within ear-bending distance of me, you have probably heard the desperation in my voice.

In between outbursts (hers and mine), I have been reading discipline books and feverishly Googling phrases like "toddler hitting punching tantrums please make it stop," and trying variations on time-outs, sit-downs, walk-away-without-slamming-the-doors, etc. I have patience with a lot of what toddlerhood has brought our way, but I run dry when it comes to all of the hitting. The hitting drives me nuts. And nothing seems to be working. I know that she knows she isn't supposed to hit; she tells me often, "Hitting hurts. We don't hit [insert family member name here]." But it is her go-to as soon as she is angry or overwhelmed. I try to remember that young children have to be told again and again before it sticks. But when she has hit me or other little ones dozens of times over the course of a day and all the while I am saying, "Don't hit" dozens of times...it all starts to feel a bit ludicrous.

I have little space for re-charging my batteries when I am feeling overwhelmed myself. She likes her some Momma and doesn't let me get far. She doesn't play independently, accompanies me to the bathroom, needs me in whichever room she is in, goes to pieces when I am on the phone or the computer. I am the whole dog and pony show for her.

With both this and the hitting, I wonder is the behavior part of a phase, or is this stuff that I have taught her and could help her unlearn (not so much the hitting, but that Momma is entertaining and there's no reason to play Play-Doh by yourself when you can get her to come make kitties with you), or do I need to toughen up, or do I need to re-think my attitude about pre-school?

I am opening the floor to all five of my readers, so share all the wisdom you got. But not until Sunday, cause tomorrow I'M OUTTA HERE, SUCKERS!

So I'm a bit late in the day to this, but I can't get nuthin' done till naptime, so there you have it.



Today has been declared delurking day by some awesome folks out there in the blogosphere, so if you are reading this post, leave a comment and introduce yourself, s'il vous plait.

Lurking's fun, but delurking's funner!