Happy Birthday, Dad!

We love and miss you and hope to see you again before Christmas!

(And we're out...adieu, NaBloPoMo, until next year.)

Alish pointed out that we are getting into the "what I had for lunch" portion of NaBloPoMo, so rejoice in the fact that there are only two more days.

All the facials in the world could not have kept me from being a stressed-out harridan today. O's bad behavior fed into my bad behavior, repeat. I hate to end a day feeling like I have been a bad parent. Just when I thought I had gotten myself back together, I tried to get a piece of gum that O found in my purse out of her mouth. She, of course, bit the hell out of my finger and I screamed, which completely freaked her out. That's the thing...I can't freak her out. It is not in my job description to lose it. And I hate knowing that my loss of control makes her feel unsteady. That's not fair.

Parenting is a crash course on Discovering Your Un-Resolved Issues.

In other, better news, O's numbers were pretty much gorgeous today.

public service announcement

Where yesterday's post was all about how stressed I have been feeling, today I'm so relaxed I feel drunk. Mom was kind enough to babysit while I got a facial. When I got home and laid down with O for her nap, I crashed out so thoroughly that I woke up with that "Wha? Where am I?" feeling. And I'm still completely dazed. In a good way. If you have never had a facial, you should schedule an appointment right now. I find it waaaay more relaxing than a massage.

I detest diabetes sometimes for being so damn unreasonable. What worked yesterday should work today and what works today should work tomorrow. A regimine will be effective for a couple of weeks, and then things just...change. I am always a bit slow to catch up. O has just been stuck in the 200s lately, which means extra shots. I am starting to question what I am doing. Should I not be letting her eat as many carbs as I do? I generally just try to feed her a healthy, well-rounded diet and adjust the insulin as needed, but she seems to have moved into the period of toddlerhood where she wants crackers more than she wants fruit or vegetables. I think what she really needs is a pump. Where do I begin?

Well, I guess it had to happen some time.

Olivia's finger, meet Olivia's nose.

Olivia has spent some real quality time with her left nostril this weekend. She's had a cold and the air in our house is kind of dry, so she has an excuse, she tells me. I have been trying to introduce a tissue into the friendship, but three's a crowd, I guess. I turned around today just in time to see her wipe a "discovery" on the couch. I stifled my, "oh gah, gross" and explained again that there is a better place for such waste and no, that place is not Mommy's pants. (Side note: as a child, I once watched another, smaller child follow his mother through a store "decorating" her skirt.) I have a feeling that I am fighting a losing battle on this one. It's just too tempting, too much of a biological imperative to get.in.there.and.get.that.booger. I'll keep waving a tissue at her, but consider yourself warned the next time you have us over.

We just got these great pins (plus one more that already found its way onto my coat) from Beth.

 

Thanks so much, Beth!

found it...

 

Blogging's been hanging over my head today like a test I don't want to study for; the best I can do is a list of nothing particular in no particular order.

- We've got lots of family still visiting, scattered across the city at various relatives' homes, eating different kinds of leftovers. We are going from house to house, having some turkey here and some stuffing there.

- O's napping is on some kind of abbreviated Holiday Schedule.

- I feel sated, but not stuffed and grateful that it is actually close to cold. When we drove past the riverfront on Wednesday, most of the people working on the preparations for tonight's Grand Illumination were shirtless and in shorts. Sixty plus degrees at Thanksgiving would have been depressing.

- This time last year, O was the only diabetic in our family, but this year several members have been diagnosed with type 2, so I found myself having lots of diabetes conversations over the last few days, pointing out some of my on-line resources and finding out how much they were learning from their MDs about heart health, A1cs, etc. Worrisome.

- Olivia has not only learned about candy and cake this fall, she has also been turned on to the whole Santa Claus thing. So now, everything is SANTA CLAUS. She wants to see him, she wants to see him now. I have a feeling that when she actually does see, it's going to be Scream-Fest 2007.

- I apologize in advance for what I about to say. There is little that is more dispiriting and blech than a bunch of people sitting around a TV watching football. There. I said it.

- Marc is in the bathroom cleaning out the shower and this makes me feel slightly elated.

- We're going for a walk tomorrow and I intend to find the Perfect Autumn Leaf. I know that it is out there.

That is all. Carry on.

I have so very much to be thankful for...my heart feels extremely full this morning.

We had very good news from a very good friend who had a very bad scare.
O continues to adjust and thrive.
We are blessed with family and friends.
Marc is learning and growing at work.
There are exciting things lining up for next year.

The list goes on and on...today, as everyday, I am grateful.

And I am grateful to you guys for being out there, for reading and commenting, and getting excited about bunny slippers and sympathetic about stubborn lows, and offering suggestions and encouragement. It means so much today and everyday.

Happy Thanksgiving...

SOMEONE
 
IS
 
VERY EXCITED
 
ABOUT HER NEW
 

 
RABBIT SLIPPERS!!!!
 

I woke up this morning never having been tagged and then POW...twice in one day. I think that I can get this done, but I am not sure that I will be able to find seven bloggers to whom I can pass this along.

Here's how it's supposed to work:
1. Link to the person’s blog who tagged you.
2. Post these rules on your blog.
3. List seven random and/or weird facts about yourself.
4. Tag seven random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.
5. Let each person know that they have been tagged by posting a comment on their blog.

Cara and Bernard hit me up for it, so here we go...

1. I cannot dive, do a cartwheel, play pool, throw darts, or remember the rules to any card game. Nor can I hold my liquor, tell a joke, or change a tire. No wonder Alish calls me Princess.

2. However, I can tell a funny story, throw a great forehand flick with a frisbee, am a good speller, and still believe in writing letters and sending them to you through the post.

3. While I am not a fan of contemporary country, the only music that I hate is Celtic. And I really hate it. Our local public radio station plays Celtic Harvest or Celtic Sunrise or Celtic Lullaby or whatever it is every Sunday. Hate.

4. I get on a kick and I eat the same thing for breakfast every day for months and months and months. Currently, it is a big bowl of granola.

5. I believe in ghosts because I have a very, very good reason to do so.

6. I have two tattoos. I can't see either of them and thus don't really have occasion to regret them.

Update: Turns out that Kerri tagged me, too.

7. I ate Play Doh when I was little. Frankly, I still think that it smells delicious.

OK, I am going to have to skip the last part and just ask you to tag yourself. Sorry. We are having a napless afternoon and my attention is called for elsewhere.

ulbh.,,v,c,;

Remember how sitcoms in the 70's would occasionally start with an announcement that "The part of Mrs. Roper will be played tonight by so and so" and then it would be some totally unknown actor and you were just supposed to play along?

I have blog block. Marc suggested earlier that I utilize the services of a guest blogger and I agreed, thinking that he meant himself, but turns out no...

Ladies and Gentleman, without further ado, I present...Olivia...and her first post.

dldldld;d; ; f ;;flgllg;g;;gp;''
g''ghh[ [g00go ggnnnbbcc/xzcx/x.x. ..,.cvkv,
rlfllkf

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ighhd
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ujnnhhhhjnmjoikmmmmm,,8ygv
l.l.;rdCFGHFFJFm m ,jjmlk

OLHYYYIVVIWA [I think that she might have gotten some prompting here.]


6565R

nbvnkhjuy7iurttbvbbxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxx,,,,,,,,,,
nvvvvvvbfgr

pomvvbg
]98vbvxcxz. 1,,,,,,.,nmnkijijjjlppojiufsaq563
,nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn/jjhyfhgfffffffffffjccmn jk.

YouTube again?

Yes, I'm sorry.

I've got a New York City, Sunday afternoon kind of feeling today and this is a New York City, Sunday afternoon kind of song.

We went to an awesome party today.

 

OK, it's not getting any earlier and I'm not feeling any post-ier, so this is all I've got today.



Olivia is OBSESSED with the Jackson 5 performance at the end of this video. She calls Michael the Purple Boy and would watch him all day long if we let her. But only this particular performance of this particular song. There's another video out there that just has the "Want You Back" on it, but I prefer this one. Stevie's a man possessed.

"My mind's distracted and diffused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you're asleep
And kiss you when you start your day"

Remember that time you were really scared and I said everything was going to be OK?

It is.

World Diabetes Day

(Sorry that looks all wonky. I have been trying to fix it, but have run out of time.)

Update: Grrr. I am having Blogger issues and can't fix things that I want to fix or comment on posts upon which I wish to comment.

So, I am just going to put some links up here and suggest that you go take a look.

Sandra has a fabulous post on World Diabetes Day here.

Bernard, the Hardest Working Man in the Diabetes Online Community, started an AMAZING project called Diabetes 365. Please go check it out.

And finally, Manny's video from the word in your hand project.


Find more videos like this on Tu Diabetes - A Community for People Touched by Diabetes

We are still several months away from the first anniversary of Olivia's diagnosis, but as we get closer to the holidays I have started thinking about it more. I think that it is because it's painful for me to think about last year's holidays now that I know that Olivia was sick and feeling so badly and we didn't know it.

I look at photos from last Christmas and in a lot of them O looks exhausted, with bright red cheeks and circles around her eyes.

I found this picture today.

 

It was taken a year ago, give or take a few days and in it, Olivia is wearing her hair exactly as she is wearing it right this minute. She's changed so much - that is what I would be saying about this photo, if diabetes hadn't arrived, but what I can say now is that everything has changed so much. We had no idea what was just around the corner when this photo was taken.

We had a scary incident the other night that turned out not to have been so scary, except that then again it really might have been scary and it certainly did feel scary at the time and still not really knowing exactly what happened is kind of scary, too.

O's blood sugar had been 90 before she started eating and got two units of Humalog at 4:30p. This was all happening earlier than usual because she got up from her nap early and her grandparents were coming to visit. By 6:00, when the rest of us sat down to eat, she was 109 and didn't want anything else to eat. She had been playing really hard and while two units is fairly standard at that time and she is pretty insulin resistant in the evening, I was starting to worry that maybe she had gotten too much insulin and not enough food.

At 7:00, when she started throwing her toys around and refusing to play with her grandmother (which is extremely unusual), I knew that she was low. Marc and I checked her as she sat on the kitchen counter and the meter said 25.

Twenty-five.

My mind was racing and I thought I was going to vomit. I started talking fast to Marc as I shoved tabs into O's hand.

"This is impossible. How could she still be running around? What's going on? How could she not feel this? This has got to be wrong. What's going on?"

By the time Marc got the meter loaded back up, O had eaten two and a half tabs. Now the meter says 115. "That's more like it," Marc laughed. "Let's check the meter," I said.

With the control solution, the meter says 107, which is within its range.

OK, no big deal, right? It took me about 15 minutes to catch my breath and stop sweating.

Here's the thing, though. Olivia usually reacts quickly and strongly to those tabs. One is enough to send her blood sugar up at least 70 mg/dl. So now I am thinking that she is going to be through the roof with all those tabs and will need another shot. But when I check her half an hour later? 137. And the next time we checked? 287. Then she started to float back down and by morning, she was 67.

What in the world happened?

Marc and I went out together...alone...for the first time in many, many moons last night. We'll call it Date Nite 2007. We're trying to make this happen with a little more frequency, but for now it seems to be an annual event.

We went to Table 2 and I was pleasantly surprised, because I have read some less than stellar stuff about their service. Service last night was fine, the food was great, and the martini was damn near perfect. So that was nice. We went to the theater for a late movie and I think that I could have sat in the lobby for a couple of hours watching all the teen drama going down. The place was so full of free-floating anxiety, angst, and lust...it was well worth the price of admission.

I was prepared to love The Darjeeling Limited as much as I love Wes Anderson's other movies, but I didn't quite and I am not entirely sure why. I just felt too conscious of the experience of it as a Movie. Know what I mean? Instead of being totally captivated by what Anderson had created, I felt sort of annoyed with Owen Wilson and his peacock feathers. It definitely had its moments, especially the very beginning and the scenes with the boys in India, but I felt a bit meh about it. Maybe I'll like it more after I see it again.

(I know, I know...I'm sort of phoning this one in, but it is Sunday.)

If you're not a fan...

of Uncle Tupelo, Wilco, or Sun Volt, keep moving 'cause this clip is almost ten minutes long. If you are a fan, though, sit back and enjoy this gem from 1989. (I could tell you this was the year that I graduated from high school which is neither here nor there but makes me feel ANCIENT when I look at skinny little Tweedy here with his shiny hair all in his face.)

They clean up real nice.

Moose's first day at work as a therapy dog was to start at 11:00 and Olivia's first tantrum was at 10:45 when I wouldn't let her hold the leash as we walked across the parking lot to the hospital. We were like a little three ring circus in the lobby and I was really glad that Marc was able to keep O occupied for a bit, because Moose and his orientation were about all that I could handle.

He did fine and seemed to enjoy himself for the most part; he was a bit skittish and distracted, because...well, he just is. But the patients enjoyed him so much and I was really impressed with the therapist who administers the program. She's very passionate about how therapeutic animals can be and I was able to see it, even in the short period of time that we were there. Patients with mobility problems struggled to maneuver close enough to pet him; a young man who is virtually unresponsive moved his fingers almost imperceptibly in his fur.

While I expected people to be bragging on Moose and Olivia, something that I didn't expect was hearing patients talk about Marc. When the patients found out that I was Marc's wife, to a person each told me how lucky they felt to be in Marc's care. One gentleman went on and on about how much he likes Marc and how Marc goes out of his way for him. It's not that I didn't know how much Marc cares about his job, but it was really meaningful to hear these people, so many of them barely on the good side of a really hard time, saying that Marc helps them. I was proud of him.

And I was proud of Moose. I think that he'll be excited to go back next time, even if it does mean getting another bath.

Oh, are we here already?

A few weeks ago, Olivia and I spent some time with a friend and her two children, one of whom had a toy cell phone that was irresistible to Olivia, despite the fact that she three of them at home. She played with it all day, searching it out when it got away from her and not wanting to share it with Miles.

As I got our things ready to go later in the day, what did I happen upon in our diaper bag? That's right. She had squirreled the phone away. Pretty clever. I didn't say anything, just took the phone back out of the bag and left it.

This evening, I found a tiny toy car in the diaper bag. My first thought was that she had brought it home from playgroup today.

"Where did this car come from, Olivia?"

"It's mine."

"Where did you get it?"

"Someone gave it to me."

At this point it starts to dawn on me that we might be getting a bit far afield of the truth.

"Who gave it to you?"

"Katy." (We know several.)

"Katy who?"

"Katy [my last name]." (No such person.)

Marc burst out laughing in the other room. I was dumbfounded. I let it go for the time being, until we go back to playgroup and I find out whether or not the toy belongs there, but I don't know quite what to do with this. Is she already stealing and lying? Am I going to have to bail her out of a tiny pre-school jail?

Marc walked past me the other night, headed for the kitchen with an empty glass. A few minutes later I heard him sputtering and coughing.

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah, but I think I just waterboarded myself."

Olivia was in the hospital for several days after she was diagnosed in February, but once she was receiving insulin, she started to feel much better and was very active for the most part. Keeping a busy 21-month-old happy and distracted on a pediatric ward was challenging and involved a lot of promenading through the unit with her in a red wagon. On each of our rounds, we would pass the board that featured the pictures of the therapy dogs who visit the children each week. Several days into our stay, we met one of the dogs, an even-tempered golden retriever who tolerated O very well.

After Marc went to work at the rehab hospital, he learned that therapy animals are also used there and he got it into his head that this would be the perfect job for Moose. Moose is calm (sort of), not easily disturbed by sudden movement or young children (Olivia is trying to beat this out of him), and up for a head-scratching (or butt-rubbing) any old time. So Marc took him for his interview on Saturday, where they were unable to spook him with dropped pans or crutches moving past his face, mostly because he thought there were treats behind the counter and he can't hear a thing with his brain screaming, "COOKIE."

So, he's now a card-carrying therapy dog and this has afforded him a new gravitas, a quiet dignity that he didn't have before. His first session is Thursday and Olivia and I will accompany him. I feel sure that we are going to be bringing some serious therapy up in that place.

 

Dear Tiny Man in the Large Truck,

Hi. Welcome to the slow lane. You are obviously new here; I am going to guess that you and your gas-guzzling monster with the grill made to look like flames are used to something a little more aggressive than what we have happening on the far right. Over here, in the slow lane, things are different...slower. We like to keep things safe for those of us trying to drive while drinking coffee, talking on the phone and handing crackers to the toddlers in our backseats.

I can't really see your face in the rearview seeing as how your truck is so tall and you are so close, but if I could I bet you would look angry and pinched. Relax. Back off a little and enjoy some personal space. I certainly will feel better when I am not having to worry about whether a sudden stop is going to send your two-ton Tonka crunching over me and all that I love in the world.

I don't really understand what your plan is with this...are you trying to get me to go faster? Do you think that I am going to move off the road completely? Or are you just a clueless fool who can't see that this kind of driving is really dangerous and rude?

Now, you can't see my face either, obviously, but if you could...wait. Maybe that's the problem; you just don't see me. Do you even know that I am down here in front of you? Down here, in the normal size car on the normal size tires? Maybe I'll just give you a little wave. A little one-finger wave and that will clear everything up? No, perhaps not. Maybe I'll just keep slowing down until you have no choice but to go around me.

Off you go then. Do us all a favor: Slow it down. Trade in that truck. Lay off the meth. There's a lot to see and do in the world, but you are not going to get to it any faster by driving like that.

Slow and steady wins the race,

Paige

Reading something this month besides child development stuff or one of The New Yorkers from the pile by my bed:

Trippers and askers surround me,
People I meet, the effect upon me of my early life or the
ward and city I live in, or the nation,
The latest dates, discoveries, inventions, societies, authors,
old and new,
My dinner, dress, associates, looks, compliments, dues,
The real of fancied indifference of some man or woman I
love,
The sickness of one of my folks or of myself, or ill-doing
or loss or lack of money, or depressions or exhaltations,
Battles, the horrors of fratricidal war, the fever of doubtful
news, the fitful events;
These come to me days and nights and go from me again,
But they are not the Me myself.

Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am,
Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, uni-
tary,
Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable
certain rest,
Looking with side-curved head curious what will come
next,
Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering
at it.

from "Song of Myself," Walt Whitman

So, I sort of snuck in the backdoor on the whole NaBloPoMo thing. I didn't quite pull it off last time, so I thought this year if I didn't raise expectations too high, when the end of November rolled around and I had a whole month's worth of posts up, I could be all, "Booyah! 2007 is no 2006!"

So I'm in. (If you aren't familiar with NaBloPoMo, you can check it out by clicking on the banner over on the right, the one with the cat.) And this is already my third post of the month, so we're well over the hump and it's just coasting with filler from here on out.

Speaking of filler...a little something from the obsession de jour:



Update:I just glanced over at the "Recent Posts" column and saw that my last three posts have all started with the word "so." The month is indeed off to a strong start.

So I took this picture a week or so ago and was going to upload it to the Word in Your Hand project at Tu Diabetes, but then I thought I had lost it while re-sizing it and I never did it. I found it today, so I'll put it up here. This was a word that we picked for O and it certainly applies, but if I was going to pick a word that sums up my feelings about diabetes, it would be "relentless." Diabetes is a constant in our lives, but there is really nothing constant about it except for the relentlessness.

Today has been a truly lovely day. O and I met with some friends this morning about a possible business venture. Despite the wriggling two-year-old on my lap and the table full of Play-Doh, I felt like a grown-up for a bit and I am really excited about some new possibilities that are appearing on the horizon.

My mom is back in town after a vacation and we had a nice lunch together and filled her in on what she had missed at Halloween.

O and I ran errands with the sunroof open and windows down, listening to Ryan Adams and making bear dance. O sang and made jokes and just generally cracked me up.

Sounds perfect, right? Except...

Inexplicably, she was stuck at 360 all day. I stuck her at breakfast, again at the coffee shop, during lunch with my mom, before naptime. I have given her a ton of insulin today out of brand-new bottles and I haven't been able to budge her. It is crazy-making.

You couldn't tell it for looking at her; she seems to feel fine, but it's there. It's always there and I hate that I can never, EVER, look at her and just see my child. I am always trying to see what it is doing to her. Do her eyes look red? Is the insulin finally working? Too much? Is she rubbing her stomach because it hurts? It's always lurking around somewhere, a constant.

But what can we do but go on with our perfect day? She has let me poke her finger again and again; she's fought me just a little on the shots. And I have tried, when I looked at her, to just see the "brave," instead of the "360."

So Halloween was a lot of fun.

 

I repeat: a lot of fun.

 

One of the more interesting moments was when Miles went to answer the door with me, and a bit foggy on the details, screamed at one of our little friends on the porch: "Trick or treat! Give me back that candy!"

 

O mostly thought that the candy was just for carrying around. We switched most of her stuff out for little toys and glow sticks and made a big deal out of a special treat: a Dum Dum.

 

She could not have been happier.