The D Mother of Invention...

Since the school nurse makes an appearance only one morning a week at our school, I get five phone calls a day, and a text. Well...that is the way it is supposed to be anyway.



It is a brilliant plan I hatched under the guise of necessity. I'll be the boys virtual nurse! They can push the buttons. They can follow direction. I'm pretty good at SWAGing meals...seriously...it was a brilliant idea in conception.



At snack the two youngest would check their sugars and call me. At that time they would correct if need be, and I would decide what snack they would eat out of their lunch according to the number given me.



Then, before lunch, the youngest would call me. He would give me his blood sugar number...just so I know he did it. B, I trust him...he doesn't need to call me. This is also where J would text me with his lunchtime number. (J carb counts and is pretty much on his own these days. He'll get to keep his freedom as long as his meter tells me he is testing.)



THEN, after the younger boys eat, they will call me again! Tell me what they ate and I will give them carb counts based on their number before they ate, based on what they ate, and based on if it is a PE day at school/or a hot day/or a full moon. My brains calculator looks a little bit like this:





(Side note: I used to pre bolus, but they would often not eat everything, or they would trade with someone. ) (Side note to the side note: I used to not let them trade, but turns out when you are an elementary school boy...this is REALLY important. It is the exception to the rule..but it does happen when I least expect it to.)



ANYHOO...



THAT was the plan. A lot of calling, but not half bad. I just needed my cell phone velcro-ed to my ear at all times, and we were good.



But I've found the fly in the ointment. The kink in the cog. The plan foiler if you will...



They have to actually call. And in J's case, he actually has to text.



Doh!



If the littles don't call...then I have to call the office, who then calls the classroom...who then gets the child for me so I can play pancreas.



Or I can call their cell phone, which most of the time is fruitless. The business of the classroom often mutes the rings and they do not hear. And 25% of the time they forget their cell phones anyway.



They pretty much forget to call me, (this is where I was going to put a percentage of the time they forget, but shockerprisingly enough...I'm not a math genius, so let's just say it is too much.)



In reality, it is an imperfect system at best.



What I really need is my cell phone to be attached to the school intercom...





It is a good plan, right?



It is either this or two plastic cups tied together with a super long string.



I know it sounds ridiculous, but I'm considering that too...





Yeah, I AM crazy! Crazy enough to consider lobbying the state of California to pitch in for the cups...



P.S. To all my email subscribers: I apologize the video I made the other day wouldn't translate to your email box. To view my last post and see my take on Simon and Garfunkel, please click HERE.

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Hello exhaustion my old friend...

Make a video - it's fun, easy and free!
www.onetruemedia.com

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There are some things you need to know...

A year ago I wrote a blog post called, "I want you to know something." It is one of Our Diabetic Life's most visited posts, still to this day. I feel strongly I need to add some things to the list. I feel strongly that today, there is something you need to know...

You need to know that when you check your child's blood sugar, no matter what the number...you are winning.

You need to know that the worry you keep in your heart all day long is only proof that you are a good pancreas.

You need to know that when your child lashes out against diabetes, he or she isn't lashing out against you.

You need to know that you can switch endos if your endo isn't listening or if your endo doesn't give you good advice. If your child's A1C stays in the upper stratosphere with no hope of returning to earth...you can move on. It is ok.

You need to know that your child's blood sugars will never be 100% perfect all the time.

You need to know that you are stronger than you think you are.

You need to know that on the hardest of days, the fact that you don't give up counts for more than you know.

You need to know that most people don't know what Type 1 Diabetes is. Please don't take it personally when they confuse it with Type 2.

You need to know that it is ok to cry sometimes.

You need to know that shots, or site changes are not something you are doing to hurt your child, they are something you are doing to help your child.

You need to know that your child loves you more than you think. You need to know your child doesn't blame you for all of this.

You need to know that you can't compare your child's diabetes with another child's diabetes. Everyone treats differently. Everyone's body is different.

You need to know that some children can easily acquire good A1C's, and others can't.

You need to know diabetes is hard. You are amazing for doing as much as you do, as well as you do.

You need to know that restricting portions at a carb-o-polooza buffet is something that all parents should do, not just parents of children with diabetes. Don't feel guilty when you have to say no to that third bowl of ice cream, or that second cookie.

You need to know that picking a pump, or a way to manage your child's diabetes is a very personal choice. Don't let other parents make if for you.

You need to know that it is ok to ask your husband or your family for help. It is ok to expect it.

You need to know that there are angels waiting to help, you just need to listen for their promptings.

You need to know that if today is a bad day, chances are tomorrow, or the next...it will be better.

You need to know that you need to do something for you. You are important...your needs are important too.

You need to know that there isn't a reason for everything. If there is a high blood sugar, and you can't figure out why...it is probably because they have diabetes...not something you did.

You need to know that there is a way to live this life with joy. It is up to you to find it.

You need to know that forgetting something doesn't mean you are an idiot. It means you are human and your swelly brain can't remember everything all the time.

You need to know you are loved.

You need to know I pray for you every night.

You need to know that in time...things will get better.

You need to know you are reading this for a reason. You need to know I mean every word.

You need to know that one day your child will be doing this all on their own, and you find a way to trust their decisions.

You need to know that you aren't alone in all of this. I know there are days when you FEEL alone. I know there are days when you FEEL like you fail. You are not alone...you are not failing.

You are not failing...

You are not failing...

I feel really strongly you just need to know that. You NEED to know...you are NOT failing your child. Your best is good enough. Keep moving forward.

You need to know the best is yet to come.

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Laughter and Insulin...the best medicine.

J: "Mom, I'm high."

Me: "J, this is the third time this week! Don't you think you are enjoying this high thing a little too much!"

J: "But it makes me feel crappy mom, and it is SOOOO fun feeling crappy!"

Real conversation that took place in Costco this summer. Were people listening in? You bet your blood ketone monitor they were! And that is ok. We gotta have fun with diabetes sometimes or we'll CRACK! Like split in half...

I'm serious.

If I didn't laugh about diabetes, I'd probably be committed to a padded cell.

There is so much REALITY with this disease, sometimes we need to take it to another place just to find our footing. Come on, we all know the consequences of high blood sugars. We all know what it is doing to our children's bodies. If we looked at that literally every time a high screamed back at us at a meter...well, we would be messes.

Wait, we are messes. All our swelly brains are messes whether we'd like to admit it or not.

Let's just say, we would be committed messes.

And the boys need some breathing room too. They need to see that random highs aren't the end of the world. A lot of sustained highs...well that is something to be taken a bit more seriously. But if it is out of left field, what are you gonna do?

Cry?

Well...ok...sometimes I cry...everyonecrysokay???

But most of the time I blow it off. We try to figure out what the culprit was to fix it for next time, but other than that we follow through with the motto 'keep calm and carry on!'

And our other motto, "You get what you get and you don't throw a fit." That comes into play too. My boys have diabetes, and diabetes means we can't keep blood sugars perfect every minute of every day.

So we laugh. And we are sarcastic. And we probably gave a couple people in Costco something to talk about around the dinner table. So what?

Milton Berle once said, "Laughter is like an instant vacation."

Who among us couldn't use a break from reality? I don't know about you, but I'm going to make an effort to laugh more. The farther I get away from the padded cell waiting for me, the better!

This is my submission for this month's DSMA Blog Carnival! It is fun to play along...go ahead and fill in the blanks yourself! "If I didn't laugh about_____then I would_____."

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Conflicted.

I'm sitting here waiting patiently for two new Medtronic Revel Insulin Pumps to grace my front porch. And as I reflect, the heaviness of its meaning fills the room. The air is getting thinner and my shoulders are aching from the enormity of it all.

Every four years my boys get new pumps. J just celebrated 8 years on the pump. B just finished up 4 years. L is on his second pump and still has a couple years before he is due for an upgrade. All the memories of starting the pump are flooding back. The excitement, the concern, the fear of the unknown. Insulin pumps are certainly worth their weight in gold, but whether I have the courage to come to terms with it or not...they are a symbol of our diabetic life. They represent our journey...they represent our future for the next 4 years and beyond.

Diabetes is such a fickle disease. Many days I count my blessings. Many days I see the good in it all. My boys have risen to the occasion...they are amazing and I have to give diabetes credit for letting their resilience shine. But other days when my back holds the weight of barrels of rocky blood sugars...well those days, I feel in danger of buckling under the pressure. It is a vicious cycle of ups and downs. It is a weather pattern where seasons change by the day.

Don't get me wrong. I am thankful...so so very thankful to have these instruments at our disposal. I am thankful for the men and woman in the world that are brilliant enough to invent such intricate gadgets. I am thankful that my boys can bolus themselves. I am thankful for the "control" and the flexibility it brings to our lives.

Very thankful.

But sad too.

And I guess that is ok. I am a mother, and being emotional about my boys' chronic illnesses is just par for the course.

I am excited, I am sad and I am thankful. I'm sure my brain is lit up like a Christmas tree right now trying to sort it all out. It is a puzzle of emotions that will make more sense once I put them together. Unfortunately, at the moment the pieces are still scattered around the table.

But in the meantime, I'll do the breakfast dishes and hope that when my boys come home from school today their hearts will putter with excitement, and the heaviness of receiving gadgets that truly keep them alive day in and day out won't put a damper on what is honestly a very blessed occasion.

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Meri's 30.

This week is National Chronic Invisible Illness week and some friends of mine around the DOC, (Diabetes Online Community,) have been completing this meme. Below is my 30.

1. The illness we live with is: Type 1 Diabetes.

2. My boys were diagnosed with it in the year: 1998, 2006, 2007

3. But they had symptoms since: J had symptoms up to 2 months before, L and B were diagnosed the day we saw a hint of a symptom.

4. The biggest adjustment I’ve had to make is: Living with the worry. Living with another cog in my brain that is set to "diabetes" and is never shut off.

5. Most people assume: Most people who don't know me assume that I'm probably a nervous wreck all the time, but honestly I'm pretty normal and laid back. Unless I need to fight for something, then I am a mama bear for sure.

6. The hardest part about mornings are: Not asking my boys to check their sugar before they even get out of bed. I've read this was a pet peeve of some PWD's, so now I try to just check it for them, either before they wake, or before they get out of bed.

7. My favorite medical TV show is: I used to watch Grey's Anatomy. Now I'm pretty much over it.

8. A gadget I couldn’t live without is: The meter. If those things could only be found dipped in gold and cost a thousand dollars they would be worth it. (Interestingly enough, I have the same philosophy for baby swings.)

9. The hardest part about nights are: Getting to sleep. I do some of my best worrying at night. Unfortunately.

10. Each day I take ___ pills & ___ vitamins: Nope. I don't take any. They don't take any. We stick to insulin.

11. Regarding alternative treatments I: am not a happy camper when I get spam emails from people who tout things as a cure. There is no cure for type 1 diabetes. Your special drink/diet/root won't fix my boys Pancreases.

12. If I had to choose between an invisible illness or visible I would choose: If we HAD to choose between the two, invisible is my illness of choice I suppose. My boys can go out in the world and hide diabetes if they feel inclined. And I have a feeling, there will be many days they will feel inclined.

13. Regarding working and career: I am lucky that I can spend my "career" taking care of my boys. If we depended on my income to live and pay the mortgage, we wouldn't have a house and a mortgage. There just aren't daycare providers willing to care for children with T1. And if I did find one, they would in all probability take so much of my income the job would be moot in the first place. But I have found that I LOVE to write. So who knows what my future holds.

14. People would be surprised to know: That we don't have a school nurse. All my boys have checked their own sugars since kindergarten and then called me from school for carb counts.

15. The hardest thing to accept about my new reality has been: That worry is like acid, and it usually makes things worse before you can begin healing. I need to stuff the worry and let my kids just be kids sometimes.

16. Something I never thought I could do with this illness that I did was: Send my son to scout camp/school camp/trips to family without me. But I did! They did! We did it!

17. The commercials about their illness: Are usually geared towards 70 year old type 2 diabetics.

18. Something I really miss doing since they were diagnosed is: Leaving the house on a whim and not worrying about grabbing life saving supplies.

19. It was really hard to have to give up: It wasn't hard to give anything up. I would give up the world for my boys.

20. A new hobby I have taken up since their diagnosis is: Blogging baby!! BEST. HOBBY. EVAH!

21. If I could have one day of feeling normal again I would: Send my boys to school, and then go shopping while leaving my cell phone at home.

22. My boys illness has taught me: That life gives us trials to help us grow into better, stronger more empathetic human beings.

23. Want to know a secret? One thing people say that gets under my skin is: They know someone who has diabetes...and that someone is their grandmother who takes 1 pill a day and checks her sugar every wed. morning. (not that there is anything wrong with that...my father in law does the same thing...it's just that they are thinking that our life is the same...when in fact, our life is the complete opposite of that.) Even just the fact that they are trying to relate is wonderful, but what usually bothers me is they don't want to hear that they are not the same thing.

24. But I love it when people: Ask questions! OHHH! It gives me goose bumps! It feels so good to have someone really want to know, rather than me flinging information at their glossy eyes.

25. My favorite motto, scripture, quote that gets me through tough times is: "Peace I leave with you, peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." ~John 14:27

26. When someone is diagnosed I’d like to tell them: You have been asked to run a marathon you haven't trained for. Some days the course will feel easier, and some days, no matter how seasoned you are, the mountains make for a rough run. The trick is to enjoy the scenery on the way.

27. Something that has surprised me about living with an illness is: How resilient my boys are. Man, they can endure so much more than I would have ever given them credit for.

28. The nicest thing someone did for me when I wasn’t feeling well was: Bring me cookies, 'cuz I am a sucker for cookies!

29. I’m involved with Invisible Illness Week because: Kerri did it, Abby did it, Reyna did it and now I am doing it. I really really think you should do it too!

30. The fact that you read this list makes me feel: Like I am not alone. Thank you for that.

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Me, Myself and My Gut

My eyes flash open.

My stomach hurts. Something isn't right.

I check the clock: 4:00am

My first thought is the boys. Did Ryan wake to test them last night? They were swimming the night before...maybe they are tanking now...

I roll over.

"Shut up brain and go back to sleep."

10 minutes later:

My eyes flash open.

My stomach hurts. Something isn't right.

"Meri you are so dramatic. You aren't magic. You aren't waking up for a reason. You are stupid. Go back to sleep."

10 minutes later:

My eyes flash open...

"ARRRRRG!"

I slip out of bed and make my way to the station. Thankfully there is only one monitor there, so I don't have to look through three different histories to see if Ryan tested.

There they are! He tested, no one was low or especially high.

"THEY ARE FINE!! Told you stupid!"

It takes awhile but I'm back into an unsettling sleep. I toss and turn but pretend I'm in deep sleep anyway.

But then: My eyes flash open.

My stomach hurts. Something isn't right.

I look to the clock: How is it only 20 minutes later?

I give up. "Uncle!"

I quietly tip toe out of the room to check on the boys. I slip into the doorway of J's room and wait. I don't hear anything so I take a couple steps closer and finally hear the steady sound of his breaths.

"He's alive stupid."

Next to L's and B's room. B is stirring, nice! L has his blanket over his head. NOT NICE! I walk closer and L suddenly whisks his blanket away, only to startle the both of us and cause me nearly to lose my dinner from the night before.

He smiles widely, "I'm up early mom!"

"Try to go back to sleep sweetheart."

"Ok!" He whisks his blanket over his head again and I walk out.

I sit on the couch contemplating the feeling so deep in my gut I can't deny. Where is this coming from? Should I test their sugars?

"They are alive stupid. Go take a shower."

And I do.

I come out of room to a still house and glide quietly the best I can to the kitchen. There I find J rustling through the fridge.

"What are you doing up? What is going on?"

"Oh, I need insulin. My stomach hurts so bad it woke me up. I guess my pump ran out of insulin sometime last night. I'm 389."

Ketones 2.8.

Throw up.

Extra bolus.

Water.

Extra bolus.

Extra bolus.

Ketones 0.3.

He is ok.

There is no denying that we as mothers of children with diabetes have a sort of 6th sense that lingers within our swelly brains.

I've read story after story of mothers following their intuition and finding a low that would have otherwise been missed. The moral of THIS story, and what I hope sticks with you...is that those feelings are given to us for a reason. They are not to be doubted.

I spent so many years taking my worry to the next level and being dramatic about everything. Growing older and wiser along with my life experiences have taught me that usually...everything is ok. Looking back, most of the drama just wasn't warranted. So I've moved to this place of...I don't want to say complacency...more of a place of Laidback-ness. A place that keeps me from doing things I would have years ago. Unfortunately, I have gotten so comfortable here that I second guess the times when my gut sets off those flashing red alarms. When the alarm goes off I wonder, am I just being dramatic...or is there more? Is this alarm real? Are the angels waking me, or was that Italian food last night just making me restless?

I'm like a trash compactor when it comes to worry these days...I'm really good at stuffing it to my toes. So when the unrelenting alarms go off I always fight an inner battle. Should I Stuff it or should I act on it? A battle for the ages. A battle that isn't worth fighting when your gut is screaming at you at four in the morning.

So let me tell you...

Next time my eyes flash open and my gut starts screaming to me that something isn't right...I am going to listen, and I will check the boys blood sugars and their pumps. We are complicated human beings. I strongly believe that we are spiritual beings as well. There is a reason the alarms go off.

We must listen.

I can't explain it...I just know it...

Deep down in my gut, I know it.

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Yeah, that's a new one.

He nudged me pretty hard.

"Please?" He asks.

"umhum," I hum almost inaudibly.

He has been doing most of the nighttime checks lately and I've been encouraging him to wake me to help out.

I would do them...I just don't wake up for the alarm anymore. Alarm fatigue. I suppose, after so many years my body decided it wasn't going to put up with it anymore. My husband sets the alarm to a local music station and has it turned ALL the way up. The music BLARES, like scare the crap out of you blares, and I don't even budge.

Hence the nudging.

I skirted out of bed catching myself from buckling under my exhaustedness and made my way slowly to the blood sugar station with my arms slightly lifted and my hands flat to the ground for balance. I got the meter ready, grabbed a vial of strips and headed into the boys room...

"Why am I walking with one eye closed?" I think to myself, "you won't be blinded if you open the other one, Meri."

So I do, and my eyes adjust.

The soft beam of light filters into the boys' room and allows me just enough illumination to find B's finger and poke.

82.

"Crap."

As I move a couple feet to my right to make sure I'm reading the meter correctly I see B out the corner of my eye turn his pump light on.

"Oh great, I woke him...poor guy is probably seeing what time it is."

And then he mumbles something to himself and I see more clearly what is happening...

HE IS BOLUSING.

SLEEP BOLUSING???

What the what???!!!!

He was entering a blood sugar number and was at 327 by the time I stopped him.

I sat on the edge of his bed panicking on the inside and slowly, calmly rubbing his hair on the outside.

My mind raced. What if? What if I didn't catch it.

I waited a good 5 minutes to make sure he was back in a deep sleep and slipped his pump back into his Spibelt and zipped it tight.

L: 198

J: 157

I return to B's bedside to give him some juice and then watch him for awhile. He was so still...so peaceful. Will he try again? Should I lock his pump? No. No, he will be ok. I pat myself on the back for making the decision not to crawl into bed with him and make my way back to my room.

More often than not with this disease we have to take that leap of faith that everything is just going to be ok.

Regardless though, you gotta give diabetes props...it can throw a mean curveball.

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Shockaprising!

Earlier this week my status on facebook read: L just called. "I'm 69. I know mom, shockerprising!" That is his new word this month...and I LOOOOOOVE it!

Two days later I was schooled by my boys, telling me it isn't "shockerprising" it is "shockAprising!"

I totally feel like one of those old people who is trying to be hip, who say things wrong. Like when my mom said "off the hanger," instead of "off the hook."

Regardless, shockaprising has been the best thing since sliced bread around here. (HELLO! OLDNESS! Who says that saying anymore???)

Instead of L silently checking his sugar, and picking out his own appropriate snack before I can confer...he will now announce every low as he is testing, with "Shockaprising!"

It is such a relief for me to be able to step in to see HOW low he is, and in turn help him pick the best possible snack for the situation.

The only ramification of all of this, is that "shockaprising" stays in my head like a catchy song, ALL. DAY. LONG.

It is my first reaction to everything...in my head anyway.

I'm not sure why it is, but it is just fun to say. You have to say it with gusto when you do. Seriously...like your shocked...almost like you are fake shocked. (Gusto...what am I, 80?)

Luckily I have a son that is willing to play along with his mom. He agreed to a reenactment. Please find it below...



Funniest part: When I asked him to reenact for me, he really WAS low!

Shockaprising!

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A1C from A to Z

Ask yourself, "does this number define my worth?"



Be mindful that this number shows where you were, not where you are today.



Cast out the feelings of guilt and ineptitude.



Don't give up on yourself.



Every number is a springboard to another. Use this number to help you get where you want to be...or to motivate you to stay where you want to be.



Forget the highs from last month. That is over. Today is a new day.



Give yourself credit where credit is due.



Have a heart to heart with your doctor. You are a team.



Invite friends to support you. Invite them to learn about diabetes...invite them to cheer you on!



Just keep swimming.



Keep some records. Writing things down help you see the big picture.



Let someone help you. You don't have to do this alone.



Motivate yourself by reading blogs in the community. Knowing you are not alone is huge!



Never say never. Anything can happen. This disease is unpredictable. Expect the unexpected.



Open your mind to new technologies.



Pray. If you don't pray, ponder.



Question your doctor. Ask why. Ask how. Ask when.



Remember that no one is perfect. Perfection does not exist with diabetes.



Start with small changes. Big changes in routine set yourself up for failure.



Talk about it. Holding feelings of inadequacy in makes it harder on you and makes it harder on those who want to support you.



Understand that getting nights right is half the battle. Start there.



Value your knowledge. You have learned a lot. Do not cut yourself short.



Wait for results. It takes time to see the fruits of your labors.



Xpect numbers to fluctuate. Life isn't linear.



You are doing better than you think you are.



Zebra. Because not everything should be about diabetes.

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I forgot.

The other night when I was wallowing in the cocoon of pity, I was so wrapped up in the wings of my despair, that I forgot...



I forgot that out in the world there were thousands...millions...of dots of light. Each dot representing other parents walking the halls of their own homes, administering the nighttime check.



I felt so alone.





Really though, I wasn't alone.



I forgot of the other PWD who were (hopefully) sleeping peacefully waiting for their alarms to wake them for their own checks. I also forgot about their spouses who stir in the bed and wait breathlessly to hear their spouse stir too.



I forgot that one number does not make or break my child's future, that my boys will have high numbers because, hello...they have diabetes.



I forgot that there is a greater force. One that trumps the helpless feelings that consume the night.



I forgot that I can't do better than my best. There is no perfection in diabetes...so my sorrow in the unattainable is moot.



I forgot that I am blessed with amazing, resilient children.



I forgot to count my blessings before counting myself out.



I forgot that in the darkness the corners of the bigger picture are hidden.



I forgot to pray.



Most days I feel so strong! Most days I take this Diabetic Life in stride. But I am human. No super human impenetrable brain of steel here.



We all have to break down sometime. It proves our humanity.



More than anything though, I think the most important thing I forgot is that my boys are ok.

It is all going to be ok.

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Finding my fight at midnight.

The nighttime can be so cruel.



Devoid of light, my soul anguishes in my ineptitude.



Seeing two 400's staring back at me tonight didn't help things. In fact it began a tailspin that even I am worried I won't recover from.



In this nighttime all my hope is drowned away in pools of tears in my hands. All my positivity is enveloped in the black hole of my pity.



How is it ok that I am so completely responsible for my boys well being?



How is it ok that it is all on my shoulders?



Is this a cruel joke? Will my best ever be good enough?



When my boys are adults will I be able to look them in the eye and say, I really truly did my best?



How does the night strangle away all my victories?



Why do I only see the defeats?



What is it about the darkness that makes all my mistakes magnify a 100 times over?



At this moment all I can say is it isn't fair.



They are so beautiful. It isn't fair.



damn it. It isn't fair.



I hate the night. I desperately need the light of the new day. I need a new beginning.



Nothing good can come of this overwhelming darkness. I feel prisoner to the feelings of despair and grief.



I need to break out of here.



I can't let the darkness win.



I can't let the darkness make me feel hopeless.



I can't give up.



...



I'm going to stop crying now. I am going to stop and I am going to move forward. I will persevere and I will not give up...



Even though the darkness tells me to.



I WILL not give up.



I will NOT give up.



I can do this.



I will bring these 400's to their knees and I will fight every number for as long as my boys let me.



I don't know if I'm just too stubborn, or if I'm too stupid, but I am stronger than this. I feel my fight coming back.



I WILL NOT give up.



Tomorrow the sun will rise and the darkness will lose.



Tomorrow is a new day.



One day at a time.



Thank you Laura for your saying, "keep calm and carry on." That is what I will do right this minute.



Giving into the darkness is not an option.



There is no victory in my pity. Circumstances aren't likely to change anytime soon.



I don't know the reason.



I don't care that it isn't fair.



I will keep swimming,



And I'll say a prayer that tomorrow the light will be so bright, my soul will be hard pressed to absorb all the hope it will bring along with it.

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The battle.

This last weekend ushered in the back to school sickies. B and J have sore throats, and L has a head cold. It is one of those situations that brings on the inner battle between my swelly brain and my fragile heart.



Today you get a behind the scenes look at the action!





"Hey Meri, the boys are so sick. Maybe you should let them stay home from school today."









"Ummm...Meri...have you forgotten that L's blood sugar number pattern was reminiscent of the skyline of the Rockies yesterday..."









"Just call the school...right now. Let them sleep in."









"They are so flipping cute...you need to keep them home and cuddle them and love them and make them soup."









"Why doesn't anyone listen to me! Protect them from the elements! It might hit 80 degrees today! Keep them home!"









"It's like I'm not even here. The swelly brain gets all the attention."





Yeah, the brain won out today. But tomorrow is a new day, and a new battle. If I had to put my money on one of them tomorrow...I think I would double down on the heart.

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Now is the time for us to stand up and be heard!

Take 10 minutes out of your busy schedule and watch this video. I cannot tell you how important this is. There is a UN Summit taking place next month and Diabetes will be a big part of the discussions on the table. Leaders from around the world will be discussing an action plan, and debate if they should make a goal to decrease deaths from noncommunicable diseases by 25% by 2025. (Personally, I don't know what they are debating...my first instinct is to say, heck yeah! But some countries don't think it can be done. I for one feel that the world can accomplish anything it sets its mind to. They just have to try.) If ever you have thought to take action...the time is now. We need to be heard. Something needs to be done. We can't let the world sleepwalk any longer. They need to know that there are too many deaths, too much suffering because of this disease. Watch this interview and then consider what you can do to bring attention to this ground breaking summit.







If you live in NY, or near to NY, here is an event you can attend to bring much needed publicity to the summit...



http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=242368832453916

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Scaling the Back to School Alps

I'm scaling the Back to School Alps and it has occurred to me that I'm tired of taking this trek.



Even though my muscles seem stronger, and this year's hike will seem easier than last years, it still is laborious...and not even a little bit fun to think about.



To start off...I miss my boys. I know that is lame. But they are the reason I smile.



Secondly, when you've taken the same hike over and over and over again...the beauty is lost on you.



The same scenery is lackluster at best.



Oh lookie there...it is the "beginning of the school year lows"...yay.



And over that hill is the classic "forgot to call you with my blood sugar."



Three miles up is where they are "too excited to eat their lunch, so they just eat the cookie Tommy gave them."



"TOMMY!!" (Said in the same voice Seinfeld said 'NEWMAN!!')



Scurrying over there is the elusive "forgetting to bolus for breakfast."



Been there. Done that.



And then the worst part of the hike..."the lake of low self esteem, and worry of what others think of my pancreating."



I've been pushed into that water more times than I want to count.



Boring.



I feel like it is groundhog day and I will live the same scenarios over and over and over again.



Man, just call me Debbie Downer. :(



The back to school blues get to me every year. The start of the hike is always the worst. I know the mistakes that lay in the horizon. I know the guilt that is to come.



I am a seasoned hiker now...but no matter how great I navigate the course...no matter how nimble I am in scaling the obstacles...I just wish the course was flat.



I wish the terrain wasn't as rocky.



I wish it was easy.



But somewhere deep down in the recesses of my soul...somewhere I can't place...somewhere...I know that this course makes me a better person. I know that this course is going to mold my boys into the park rangers of their diabetes landscapes. This course will teach me patience. It will teach me to be humble and compassionate.



As much as I don't want to hike up the mountain of back to school...I will. Because as much as I hate to admit it...it will make me and my sons stronger.



The fiber of my boys character will be strengthened by these trials, I honestly believe this to be true.



My backpack is heavy with survival skills. My soul is heavy with determination.



So here I go.



And as I set off, I leave you all with this Irish Blessing...a blessing I hope you keep in your hearts as you begin your own trek up the mountain...



“May your joys be as bright as the morning, and your sorrows merely be shadows that fade in the sunlight of love. May you have enough happiness to keep you sweet, enough trials to keep you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, and enough hope to keep you happy."

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Half eaten bowl of cereal? Or brain exploder?

Let me give you some insight as to why my brain is swelly.



Exhibit A: A cereal bowl, half full of milk and bits of cereal.



Practically every mother in America doesn't give that a second thought.



Me?



I give it a second thought. And a third one, a fourth one...and maybe even a tenth one.



Yesterday was the first day of school. Maybe it was nerves. Maybe it was excitement, but neither B nor L finished more than half their cereal.



And to top it off...they used bowls we have never used before.



Using new bowls on the first day of school?



How am I supposed to SWAG that?



They are not as wide...but they are a little deeper. The circumference of the circle...why am I even trying to figure this out...I AM A GEOMETRY LOSER!



Swelling. Swelling, and more swelling.



On top of that, B asked me how much insulin. Me...assuming that he had eaten his entire bowl, gave him an amount. When I went back later, my heart stopped.



"Who's bowls are these?!!" (That was me yelling with my eyes practically popping out of my head.)



The boys filed in.



J: "Not mine. I ate all mine."



L: "That one is mine but I told you I couldn't eat it all."



B: "That one is mine, why?"



Me: "Why??? Why???? When you asked for a carb count you failed to mention to me that you didn't eat it all. Don't you think that is important? Don't you think getting more insulin than you are supposed to is a big deal? What if you had already left for school?"



B: "Yeah. I guess that is kinda important."



So he ate a banana to make it up.



Who knew one half eaten bowl of cereal could cause such angst in a mothers heart?



Or was it half? The bowl is narrower at the bottom. How am I supposed to eyeball that????



Diabetes is diabetes. I know it is hard and emotional, and a pain in the arse.



But it the little things that tip me over the edge.



Constant little things.



I guess I have to ask myself, "is the bowl half empty, or half full?"



After some thought, my answer is: Does it really matter? The bowl, and whatever its contents, are poop disturbers. Period.



It is as simple, or as complicated, as that!

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Proof I don't know everything.

Last week L had his last swimming lesson of the Summer Season. It was one of those crazy days...I don't remember all the details, but we were in a rush and I had to bring B along too. I had L check his sugar in the car on the way to the pool and a 119 popped up.



119 isn't really an ideal number...but for some reason, on that day...my head said, "Alrighty then! Let's swim!" Probably because his sugars have been running high the past couple weeks, and lows have been scarce if not non-existent.



We were late to the lesson and L ran ahead of me, smiling and spunky as usual. We walked in just as he was jumping into the pool...his teacher had him dunk his head and he did it with ease.



And then his teacher said, "Let's start with freestyle," and that is when it went all downhill.



He said, "But I can't do freestyle. I can't swim."



Both his teacher and I were taken aback, 'cause, yes he can.



The next 20 minutes were horrifying to watch. It was like he never had any lessons at all. He would jump off the step and flail and frantically grab for his teacher. My feelings were torn between terrifying fear and rising anger. These private lessons are expensive. This is the last summer lesson, what is he doing?? My jaw sat agape and my body sat stunned and frozen. I didn't know what to think.



I called from the side, "L, you need to listen to your teacher. You can swim, we all know you can. Just do your best, you will be fine."



Yeah, that didn't help.



He continued to flop in, freak out, and then begin to panic. Then his tears started and it was like I was hit on the side of my head with a bag full of rocks..."Could he be low??"



I stopped the lesson and brought him to the side. He was 52.



There was only 10 minutes left of the lesson and I knew I couldn't get him up enough to swim safely, so we said our goodbyes.



I kept playing the scene again and again in my mind. I knew blood sugars caused you to have no energy. I knew they caused you to be shaky. But paranoia? Could it be that the low caused him to forget he could swim?



I went home that night and messaged a few amazing type 1 woman. I pleaded with them to shed some light on the manic scene I had witnessed with L. Could his behavior been caused by the low?



Turns out yes. Absolutely.



One of these woman confided in me that Lows make her feel helpless. That she can't get her body to do what she wants it to do. Another let me know that she does get paranoia with lows, and even feels like everyone hates her and she is a loser. Much like a panic attack. One of them has had dreams full of paranoia.



It came to me that lows can heighten your insecurities. L is insecure in his swimming. He is scared of the water...and no matter how much progress we have made...that low made him go back to that place that told him it wasn't safe anymore.



I'm not sure I can put into words the sadness I have that I didn't pick up on the sugar nose dive earlier that day. I feel like I let him down. I let him suffer in that water for 20 minutes before I pulled him out. I know that I didn't know...but I should have known better. Because as my friend Reyna says, "If you know better, you do better."



I am humbled. I never thought I knew everything...but I thought I had a small grip on it all. This instance made me realize I will never know all the dark corners of this disease. There are always more surprises.



And now I won't be so bowled over. I have learned a valuable lesson. Don't get too comfortable.



I stand ready.



Bring it.



(P.S. L's teacher has agreed to 4 more lessons. I spoke to L and he seems to agree that those feelings came from the low. I feel strongly he needs to get back up on that horse. I can't let that last session be what he remembers from swimming...he needs to get his confidence back. I know he can do it!)

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The invader.

I'm not sure how he got in. I'm not even sure when. But the man in black entered our house 13 years ago this week.



My skin crawls thinking about how he hid here, unnoticed for so long. I can imagine his joyful snicker, and the slits in his eyes widening just enough to see the damage he was doing to my baby.



Was it pre-calculated? Was he planning his assault for months? How did he choose my son?



I'll probably never know.



All I know is he liked it here. Because he has lived in the dark recesses of our home for lo these many years, and has found a way to attack two more of my boys. Attack in a silent, devastating, life threatening kinda way.



He has done everything he can to make my boys miserable. He lies in wait...picking the most inopportune times to make my boys go weak in the knees...to turn them ashen white...to make them desperate for a snack.



He can make them thirst. Seriously, who does that? He has a sick sense of humor for sure.



We let him wreak havoc for years. He had control...he was sneaky enough to take my brain and swell it up to astronomical proportions.



For a while, I forgot what was important.



For a while, all I could think about was the man in the shadows. My distain for him. My fear that he would jump out again and attack.



------------------------------------------------------



My plan for revenge came slowly. It was a seed planted by the light in my children's eyes.



One day my son's blood sugar was impossibly high and I smiled and said, "It is what it is...let's just fix it."



The dark shadow of a man cringed at my indifference. I heard him jerk deep into the shadows. He didn't like that I was becoming comfortable.



That moment was exhilarating, and it became my greatest joy to make him shirk.



Over time I could feel that I had the upper hand. I had the power to make HIM tremble in his boots. I wouldn't let him scare me anymore. His scare tactics were old. I could head them off with my outlook. I could defend myself with hope.



The man still lives here, and some days he tries to jump into hearts and cause panic. But most days he just whimpers with his miserableness. Most days he is lonely.



His power is limited now. I will not cower in fear. I will not let him take the air from the breath of our life.



Today...thirteen years after his appearance...The Diabetes Invader can suck it.



We love, despite his presence.



We hope, despite his presence.



We try...we endure...we succeed...



Despite his presence.



Diabetes may have a score of three with the Schuhmacher family...but we trump his score with our hope.



And I call that a win.



In fact, this is more how I see our relationship now...

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From little things to big things.

(The blue candles on Facebook fuel the embers of anger I have for this disease. My thoughts are turned to the families that are hurting, and to the new families whose lives were turned upside down today. As I tried to navigate the hurt, I found myself drawn to my keyboard, to pay homage to those that mark today as their Diagnosis Day.)



Traveling through time.



The view is bright...the seasons fly.



Family is growing.



Your mind is on the little things.



Like keeping your child happy...



And school clothes. What is for lunch? There is construction/traffic on the 101.



Suddenly there is a tapping in the back of your head.



Something isn't right.



Your child constantly thirsts. Your child does not seem right...somehow.



But you need to buy school clothes. You need to go to the grocery store.



You need to find a detour away from the 101.



"Mom, I'm thirsty."



Your heart tugs. Your mind twists and turns.



It is summer after all. You are imagining things.



You aren't a big fan of drama. You question why you are creating it in your head.



And then you see your child doing something simple,



like brushing teeth...or making their bed...



and you see it.



Your child is so skinny.



Your child looks sick.



Your child has no energy.



Something is very wrong.



And suddenly...they are throwing up.



They are breathing deeply...gasping almost...so sweet...so wrong.



What is happening?



You are scared.



Your child is so scared.



And then to the hospital.



And then to be admitted.



And then for the veil to be lifted...



And nothing is the same. The world changes color.



Your child really doesn't need school clothes anymore. Your child always had enough.



There is plenty of food in the pantry.



You don't need to take the highway...the back roads are better for reflection anyway.



Diagnosis day.



Life picks you up and delivers you to your new course.



The new scenery is terrifying.



The new language is a puzzle.



And your child...



Your beautiful child is transformed.



It is as if they are magically donning shining armor.



The nobility...the bravery...the selflessness of a child with Diabetes.



The Diabetes kaleidoscope takes over your view.



Life is full of color and confusion.



But it is intensely beautiful too.



Traveling through time.



The view is bright...the seasons fly.



The family is growing.



Your mind is on the big things.



Like keeping your child alive...

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Disciplining and Diabetes.

It is the elephant in the room. It is what every mother of a child with type 1 diabetes dreads. How can we discipline our children when they have such a burden to bear? How can we discipline a child who is high or low...especially when that high or low was from boluses that came from our very own hands?



Don't they deserve some mercy? Their gene pool didn't give them any, the world isn't giving them any...



Isn't it my job as a mother to give them a break?



How can I discipline a child who bears the world of this 24 hour disease on their little shoulders. A child who single handedly captures my heart as he smiles through tears during a set change? The child that already suffers, and struggles, and needs my support and love more than anything in this world?



This is how...



I want you to think about the people you know in your life. People you KNOW. People you have met, who you have spent time with...people throughout your life that somewhere in the attic of your brain, you have filed away relationships with.



Now...what percentage of these people have problems?



I hope you said 100%. Because if you didn't, then maybe you don't know these people as well as you think you do. Or maybe you have kidded yourself into thinking that other people, who do not have disease, have perfect lives.



Everyone has problems. Their problems can be intricate, they can be simple, they can be heartbreaking, they can be terrifying, they can be hidden...more problems are hidden than are not.



Now think of your children. Do you think that life is only going to hand them problems that relate directly to diabetes? Can we say that our children's hand has been dealt? That they stood in line and received the burden of diabetes and they are free to forget everything else?



Unfortunately, I can answer that one for you with a definitive no.



Is it fair?



As a mother, I would have to say no.



But life has a way of moving on no matter what your disease. No matter what our ailment. No matter what is fair.



Life continues...and the burdens of life are like the smoke of a fire. It gloms into the pours of our souls and can't be washed away with emotion...or fairness.



Our children must be prepared to live as adults in this world of drama and confusion.



They will be handed more problems to solve.



They need to learn how to work with people who are rude.



They need to learn how to take care of their bodies and their surroundings.



Even though they have diabetes, they still need to know how to make their bed and put the dishes in the sink.



Our children need to grow up and learn the same lessons everyone does. They need to know that it isn't ok to hit their brother, or it isn't ok to scream and have a tantrum when they are no longer a toddler.



I've struggled with this issue for years...because I'm not a callous human being. I love my bundle of joys more than my own life. Punishing them is the LAST thing I want to do.



But I made a mental list of rules...and my children know that no matter how cruddy they feel...some things are just not ok.



I feel strongly it is our responsibility as parents not only to raise responsible diabetics, but responsible adults that don't feel like they are owed anything.



Because the world doesn't give a yankee doodle dandy that our children have diabetes.



So when I punish, (which honestly doesn't consist of more than timeouts and privileges taken away,) even though it hurts me as much as it hurts them, (or more,)...I KNOW...I am doing the right thing. I know that I would have given them a time out if they didn't have diabetes...so why wouldn't they deserve one even with diabetes?



Maybe, because of diabetes, I'm kinder about it all. If I believe it has anything to do with their blood sugar numbers I give them a hug first. I let them know, that I know, they aren't feeling well. I give them insulin, or food...or water...and then I leave them in their time out. Because it isn't ok to turn your anger onto the people around you. It isn't ok to take your stomach ache out on your brothers.



I'm not pretending that I have it all figured out...I've made my share of mistakes.



Hand to heaven...I fail a lot, or at least I feel like I do.



But it is the question I get asked the most.



And my answer always is...if your child is acting in a way that is not acceptable...than it isn't acceptable. Even if his or her sugar is whacked out. Sure, they are allowed to be grumpy. Sure, they are allowed to vocalize the miserableness of this disease...but there are lines that you need to draw. And when you do, you can't feel like you are adding more weight to your child's shoulders.



Because in fact, you are taking the weight away. As adults they will thank you for allowing them to feel...but at the same time, not allowing them to walk all over you.



I've had to dethrone the king before. It is not easy...not even a little. But if your prince or princess has taken over the palace...and they are no longer a toddler...it is time.



It isn't your fault they have diabetes.



It isn't your fault.



It isn't your fault.



No, it isn't their fault either, but setting limits is ok.



You will find one day, that it is the kinder thing to do.

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Crossing party lines.

I am a Diabeticrat. Or maybe a Diapublican.

Let's just say: I belong to the Diabetic Party.

If it doesn't relate to my agenda...I really don't give a rats bahookie.

I'm embedded in my world and if it effects my children, it effects me. And then I care.

That is how moms roll. Well...how this mom rolls anyway.

I know that there will come a time when I will widen my scope, and care about the recycling problem in our city, and the litter problem in the next...but right now...my children's most immediate needs are what is important.

Mess with them, and you mess with me.

Misunderstand their disease, and expect to be educated by me.

I'm walking through a diabetes swamp...and all I care about is keeping my children on higher ground. The issues that face my Diabetic Party direct my course.

My party objectives:
Keep my children alive.

Educate others.

Advocate for a future free of discrimination.

Further research and technological advances with financial and moral support.

Support all that are affected by our cause.

Hope. Endure. Try. Love.

Keep the faith.
That is where I am.

But this weekend I had an experience that knocked me into the world of another party completely. And for better or worse...the blinders were taken off.

This weekend I spent time with my best friends from my childhood. From age 5 to age 13 I spent most of my waking hours by the side of these sisters. Their mother was a second mother to me. She taught me so many lessons...the most important being: stand by what I think. She taught me my voice means something. I'll forever thank her for that.

My friends' mother...my second mother...died of Alzheimer's Disease a few years ago. She was too young, only in her 40's.

I'm sorry to say that until this weekend, I really didn't know what Alzheimer's really was. What caused it. What affect it had on the families...the caregivers...the people themselves. I had no idea how or why people could pass away from Alzheimer's.

It wasn't on my parties agenda...so I just didn't know.

Now I know.

Their party...the Alzheimer's Party...it is so much like my party it is very hard to discern between the two.

They have the very same objectives as my party.

And after hours of educating conversations between both their party brains and mine...lines became blurred. My intense focus widened. Kinda like I was driving in the dead of night and finally realized how to turn the brights on.

And it became clear to me for the first time...that I am not part of this elusive political sect after all...

I am part of a bigger picture.

The Human Party.

We are all human...and we should care about each other and the heartaches that we carry whether they be the same or completely different. Because even though the diseases we advocate for can be very different...in an eerie way...they really really are not.

We have all had friends drop out of our lives because they couldn't take the heat of this disease. We all have family that don't understand the roots of what we are fighting for. We all know that the world doesn't understand our heartache fully.

But what we sometimes don't know...or what we sometimes forget...is that there are others.

Others fighting their own war. Others hurting just as much as us.

I am guilty of this tunnel vision...I am so self righteous in my knowledge that Diabetes is HARD.

But you know what?

Alzheimer's is HARD.

Cancer is HARD.

Crohn's Disease is HARD.

Autism is HARD.

Cerebral Palsy is HARD.

Bagillions of others diseases and conditions are HARD.

Being human...suffering disease and loss is HARD.

I think it is ok to fight for our party. But I also think it is ok to cross party lines.

Because sometimes the most human...the most patriotic thing we can do...is put our arm around another human being and say..."I see that you are hurting. I'm so sorry. How can I help?"

I truly believe we will become a stronger party in doing so. Whatever your battle. Whatever your disease. Whatever your condition.

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Right now, I have enough.

"On July 27 1921 two Canadian scientists at the University of Toronto,
Frederick Banting and Charles Best, successfully isolate insulin--a
hormone they believe could prevent diabetes--for the first time.
Within a year, the first human sufferers of diabetes were receiving
insulin treatments, and countless lives were saved from what was
previously regarded as a fatal disease. Diabetes has been recognized
as a distinct medical condition for more than 3,000 years, but its
exact cause was a mystery until the 20th century. At that time, the
only way to treat the fatal disease was through a diet low in
carbohydrates and sugar and high in fat and protein. Instead of dying
shortly after diagnosis, this diet allowed diabetics to live--for
about a year. A breakthrough came at the University of Toronto in the
summer of 1921, when Banting and Best successfully isolated insulin
from canine test subjects, produced diabetic symptoms in the animals,
and then began a program of insulin injections that returned the dogs
to normalcy. On November 14, the discovery was announced to the world.
On January 23, 1921, they began treating 14-year-old Leonard Thompson
with insulin injections. The diabetic teenager improved dramatically,
and the University of Toronto immediately gave pharmaceutical
companies license to produce insulin, free of royalties. By 1923,
insulin had become widely available, and the scientists were awarded
the Nobel Prize in medicine." ~ History.com

Today I want to say thank you to Banting and Best. I owe you a debt of gratitude deeper than the Precipices of the Grand Canyon.

Because of you...my boys can live.

Because of you...my boys can see, walk, laugh, and play.

Because of you...my boys can learn and go to school.

Because of you...my boys can jump and play sports. They can run and play with their friends.

Because of you...I count carbs...and take for granted daily how lucky I am to do so.

Because of you...I insert needles into my boys and don't even blink an eye, because I know it saves their life every time I do.

Because of you...we don't live in a hospital.

I take it all for granted. I think, "Where is the cure?" I think, "Why is this so hard?" I think, "My boys deserve better!"

But today, through these tears of thankfulness, I don't think those things at all.

Today I think, "It has been 90 years, why can't everyone afford and have access to insulin?" I think, "Why must families watch their child die because insulin is not available?" I think, "Even in the USA there are families struggling to keep insulin in the fridge."

I think, "Why is my family so blessed?"

Yes we have three boys who have Type 1 Diabetes. But I have a cabinet in my house that looks like this:


And I have insulin in my fridge...so much I almost cannot contain it:


Sure it is all just a few months in supplies...and sure, that is a sad thing in itself, but I feel overwhelmingly grateful that we have these advances.

YES, a cure would be nice...but in the meantime, I'm going to work on looking at what I have, rather than what I don't.

Because as it turns out...right now, what I have is more than enough.

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The Four Seasons to Diabetes

The winter days, those are the ones that are like sticky notes glued to our memories. The rain that falls from our tear ducts...the snow that chills our hearts to our blessings. There are the storms that toss the numbers around. There are the calms that lay before the storms that can give us a false sense of security. But during this time of year, most of us know...we KNOW...that when the calm is there, then it is time to lie in wait for the storm. Every day anticipating the winds to turn everything upside down. Every day not trusting what is in our emergency preparedness brain. How bad will the storms be? The weather caster in our brain exaggerates the destruction of it all. The winter. We all have these winter moments...and the only thing that makes OK is moving on to another season.


Spring is when everything is coming up roses. (Or in this case, Tulips.) The basals are set right. The corrections are right. We feel we could swag an entire luau buffet with our eyes closed. Diabetes steps back...our children and their activities step forward. There is a sense of accomplishment and excitement. We roll your eyes at others drama. We wonder what all the fuss is about. We are drifting down a stream with little or no effort on our part. It is a beautiful thing that we all wish would last forever...but seasons change. And summer comes...


"Did someone turn up the heat? Is there a spotlight on me? Wait. Everyone thinks I got this thing but I'm so preoccupied with all the things I need to do to keep this family running, that I have no earthly idea how the sugars are trending, or what supplies need to be ordered. I'm so lost." There is no order, only chaos. Everything is ran in hast. The activities build, and children are occasionally left in others hands. You feel like you have no center. You second guess your swags...you second guess your brain. You wonder how anyone could trust you with this job in the first place. Pretend. We have to pretend we got this. It is a lonely and heat exhausting place to be. We yearn for relief.


And then fall comes. There is a beauty to fall that reminds us of spring. We start to view things in color rather than brown and white. The fall encourages us to look up...and know that we are here for a reason. Is anything perfect in the fall? No, it is unpredictable. But we accept that unpredictability as part of Our Diabetic Life. There is purpose to our step...the wind is at our back. We turn to family and friends to begin the celebrations of the season. We celebrate how far we have come. We are thankful that our children have healthy legs, healthy eyes, healthy hearts. We are grateful that they can run and laugh and enjoy life regardless of the occasional rain or heat. An old college roommate of mine put this quote on facebook, "Gratitude turns what we have into enough." That is what this season is all about.

What season are you in right now?

I am in Summer. Me thinks I need to be more grateful for what I have.

"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven."

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I blog, therefore I get free stuff.

I get emails once in awhile from companies that want me to try their stuff. At first I thought this was SO COOL and then realized that most of the "stuff" I was getting wasn't so yummy or cool after all. (Sad face.)

But when I got the call from Blue Bunny to try their ice cream, well HOT DANG! I'm not going to say no to ice cream! The SAME DAY I got a note from VBlast, asking me to try their new vitamin beverage. I figured, I said yes to the ice cream, might as well give these a whirl too.

In exchange, I said I would give a review, but they both knew that I would be honest...and say what I really truly thought. I'm not getting paid or anything. But as I said in my title...I did get these samples for free.

So here you go...my really truly real true thoughts...

Blue Bunny ice cream sent me these "Sweet Freedom" snack sized ice cream cones, and ice cream sandwiches. They have "no sugar added" so therefore they are diabetes friendly, right? Maybe. They have the ingredient, "Sucralose," which is famous for not being so friendly on my diabetics' tummies.

Luckily, these babies were little enough not to cause any harm whatsoever to our digestive systems. Not a huge fan of sugar alcohols, but a little bit once in awhile is ok with me. Another reason I bring up sugar alcohols is that all the boys went low after eating these bad boys. I bolused straight for the carbs, but as I learned from Wil over at Diabetes Mine, I needed to subtract the fiber and 1/2 the sugar alcohols from the total carbs. That is what happens when you are a sugar alcohol rookie like me. Well, now I know. :)



I have to say though, the ice cream cones were REALLY yummy. I snuck one for a snacky snack the other night and enjoyed every bite. I would like to say the same about the ice cream sandwiches, but I can't. Only because I didn't have one...the boys ate them too fast! They LOVED them. In fact they just asked for me to buy more. So I guess that is a win! They are tiny, they are good...I can't help but recommend!

The other product I received was VBlast. It is Spring Water with Vitamins in the cap. When you twist the cap the vitamins and flavor is released, which they claim keeps everything more potent.

First impression was, how the heck does this thing work? We twisted, nothing happened. We twisted more. Nothing. Finally we twisted the cap all the way off and the color/vitamins flowed in.



J took the first taste and said it was disgusting. We found out later that the some of the potent flavor was still in the cap. Once we shook it and he tasted it again, he thought it was good. In fact we all thought the Strawberry Kiwi flavor tasted really good. We have sampled some others and liked them too. But here is the thing...da da dum! Sucralose...again. :( It is zero carbs though and kinda fun...and chalked full of vitamins...so that is something! We saw another product exactly like this at Costco yesterday...same square bottle too. Except the cap looked easier to use. It had ONE carb...but...here is the kicker, it tasted awful and had a bad after taste. So kudos for VBlast for tasting good!


I want to thank these companies for thinking my say means something. I know that more bloggers have Blue Bunny reviews coming soon, so keep an eye out! In fact, here is one by Heidi over at D-Tales...just click HERE.

Have a wonderful weekend my sweet peeps!

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