Unknown
It was one of those nights. The kind of night when you look at the clock and see it’s 4:45 and you have nothing planned for dinner.
Options were weighed. Dialog was flowing. Ideas bounced off. And decisions made.
The decision? My husband, my SIL and my oldest 3 boys would ride their bikes 3.1 miles down the road to a restaurant that I had a killer coupon for. L and I would hang back. I would take L on his scooter for a 1 mile loop around the house, and then when we got back we would drive to meet the fam at the restaurant.
It was a good plan.
It was a plan hatched with the best of intentions.
As I left with L out the door I yelled back for everyone to check their sugars before leaving. J was on his way to “The Station,” (my nickname for the hallway cupboards and counter where we keep the boys supplies,) so I felt pretty comfortable about leaving.
You caught that right? I saw J heading to the station…not B. But why would I worry? I totally knew my husband had this.
Unfortunately…my husband totally knew I had it.
When L and I got back from our loop I got an upsetting phone call from my SIL.
“B feels low. He is sitting on the side of the road and he’s pretty upset. I got nothing on me.”
Before I go any further you should know that my SIL ALWAYS has SOMETHING on her. She carries a blood sugar monitor and fast acting carbs in her purse at all times…yeah, she is that great. No kidding, she’s a regular Mary Poppins. But on this day…she didn’t have her purse with her. She had nothing. B wasn’t moving. He knew he had to stay put, and they were by the post office in the industrial district…not a store within a mile or so.
L and I hopped in the car and took off.
I was almost there when my SIL called again, “Are you close? B is crying now.”
Crap. He’s scared. My entire existence axises on keeping my boys NOT scared. And there B was, on the side of the road, frightened. No monitor. No sugar. Feeling all the crap a low has to throw at him…worried for his sweet little life.
Crap on a stick. (Who says that? One of the blogging Mama’s says that.)
It was like a bad drug deal. On the open road…a car drives up and rolls down the window and hands over the goods to get someone high. I wanted him higher. I wanted him higher now.
I was in a no parking zone on a busy street, shunking my son with a needle and giving him the goods to get higher.
The craziness of the moment didn’t escape me.
He drank his juice. He ate his Yogo’s with frenzy, and then stopped long enough for me to check him.
52.
He waited awhile and insisted finishing the trip on his bike.
Diabetes wasn’t going to scare him into stopping. He had all the tools he needed to be safe now; He was ready to go.
As I watched him bike down the road, the title of the country song, “There Goes My Life” popped into my head.
There he went, my entire life. My everything.
We work so hard to keep our kids safe. But we work just as hard to make them FEEL safe.
Let me keep the fear.
Let me nurse the worry.
Let him…just be a kid.
Options were weighed. Dialog was flowing. Ideas bounced off. And decisions made.
The decision? My husband, my SIL and my oldest 3 boys would ride their bikes 3.1 miles down the road to a restaurant that I had a killer coupon for. L and I would hang back. I would take L on his scooter for a 1 mile loop around the house, and then when we got back we would drive to meet the fam at the restaurant.
It was a good plan.
It was a plan hatched with the best of intentions.
As I left with L out the door I yelled back for everyone to check their sugars before leaving. J was on his way to “The Station,” (my nickname for the hallway cupboards and counter where we keep the boys supplies,) so I felt pretty comfortable about leaving.
You caught that right? I saw J heading to the station…not B. But why would I worry? I totally knew my husband had this.
Unfortunately…my husband totally knew I had it.
When L and I got back from our loop I got an upsetting phone call from my SIL.
“B feels low. He is sitting on the side of the road and he’s pretty upset. I got nothing on me.”
Before I go any further you should know that my SIL ALWAYS has SOMETHING on her. She carries a blood sugar monitor and fast acting carbs in her purse at all times…yeah, she is that great. No kidding, she’s a regular Mary Poppins. But on this day…she didn’t have her purse with her. She had nothing. B wasn’t moving. He knew he had to stay put, and they were by the post office in the industrial district…not a store within a mile or so.
L and I hopped in the car and took off.
I was almost there when my SIL called again, “Are you close? B is crying now.”
Crap. He’s scared. My entire existence axises on keeping my boys NOT scared. And there B was, on the side of the road, frightened. No monitor. No sugar. Feeling all the crap a low has to throw at him…worried for his sweet little life.
Crap on a stick. (Who says that? One of the blogging Mama’s says that.)
It was like a bad drug deal. On the open road…a car drives up and rolls down the window and hands over the goods to get someone high. I wanted him higher. I wanted him higher now.
I was in a no parking zone on a busy street, shunking my son with a needle and giving him the goods to get higher.
The craziness of the moment didn’t escape me.
He drank his juice. He ate his Yogo’s with frenzy, and then stopped long enough for me to check him.
52.
He waited awhile and insisted finishing the trip on his bike.
Diabetes wasn’t going to scare him into stopping. He had all the tools he needed to be safe now; He was ready to go.
As I watched him bike down the road, the title of the country song, “There Goes My Life” popped into my head.
There he went, my entire life. My everything.
We work so hard to keep our kids safe. But we work just as hard to make them FEEL safe.
Let me keep the fear.
Let me nurse the worry.
Let him…just be a kid.
