Some Days Are Like that... Even in Australia.

Do you ever have a day that just refuses to be decent no matter what? Yeah. Me too. It reminds me of one of my kids' favorite childrens' books: Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Today is one of those days. I can empathize with Alexander to the nth degree and it isn't even noon.

It started with a phone call that drug me from my bed, in all my fuzzy-headed glory, to answer a help call for my volunteer work. I don't mind doing this, but because I was going from dead sleep to wide awake and “on,” I felt like I was in a play where I didn't quite know my lines and was ad-libbing everything I said. My tongue felt thick, my throat felt dry, and my thoughts felt jumbled. The correct words were coming out, but it felt like they were in the wrong sequence. It's like showing up to math class only to find that you're taking an unexpected pop quiz for which you're unprepared. Not exactly the best wake up routine.

To make matters worse, the ringing phone woke up my 4 year old. That's also not a big deal in the normal course of things, but someone woke up on the melodramatic, attention-grubbing side of the bed apparently. So, while I'm trying to do phone counseling work, my daughter is climbing on me and demanding that I pay attention to only her, and when that doesn't work, she sits as close to me as humanly possible (read: one elbow in my ribcage, and one knee under my butt) and begins singing the alphabet at the top of her lungs. I assume that I must have sounded extremely professional at this point.

While all of this is going on, Mr. H, my lovable, but somewhat needy, puppy heard us and realized that we were up, and that means it was time for him to join his pack for the day. Thus he started whimpering and crying to be let out of his room. Again, I'm sure I was looking more and more professional by the minute. I somehow muddled my way through the phone call, and the poor woman on the other end didn't seem too traumatized, so possibly she got the answers she needed in spite of my chaos and confusion. I left her with a promise to email her some further information and hung up.

Keep in mind that, because the phone call was what woke me, I had yet to have coffee. Coffee is an essential ingredient in the recipe for making me human most days. If I do not have it, I do not promise to be even remotely patient. It's not simply the caffeine, either. The caffeine is essential in order for me to avoid a nasty headache. But, it's the ritual itself that I truly enjoy. I like to sit with a cup of hot coffee and just be by myself, at least mentally, for a little while before I have to start my day. I might scroll through my facebook feed or take a phone call, but overall, for at least the first cup, I want to be left alone.

Before I could even get up to brew my coffee, the girl started with her screaming. I wasn't paying attention to her. Well, yes. That's true. I was on the phone and then I had to email the nice lady who needed my help before I get sidetracked and forget. You have 943 million toys. Go play with one of them for 5 minutes and then maybe I can pay attention to you. Sigh.

Then, I called for the oldest boy. Since my knee is all messed up, I've been having him take the dog out for me so that I don't overtax my knee or fall because the dog pulls me and I overbalance. He was still asleep because apparently he stayed up for who knows how long reading. Which means that, instead of getting up in a reasonable mood, he was a seething ball of rage and disrespect. I actually had to tell him to stop talking and go to his room before I throttled him and was arrested for child abuse. A friend called while all of this was going on and was witness to his fantastic display of hatefulness. She seemed somewhat appalled, whether by him or me, I'm not sure. And I still hadn't had my coffee. Sigh.

Then, while I tried to drink my coffee, the middle one wanted to know if he could do his online schoolwork. Sure. But, of course he had to pick language arts, which meant reading, which meant that I had to be involved to help him correct the words he was sounding out. Fantastic. And Ms. Thang was still whining that I wasn't paying attention to her. So, I figured that I would distract her by letting her play some of the educational apps I downloaded for her on my iPhone. That would have worked, too, if it hadn't been for the fact that I downloaded a new one and had to show her how to play it. Then, she wouldn't go away. I tried to tell her that her daddy was sick and really wanted her to go sit next to him and play, but she insisted that she loved me best. It's good to be loved. Sigh.

So, for 20 minutes, I had Punkinhead next to me, slowly and painfully doing his reading lesson because he has ADD and today was a bad focus day for him, and Ms. Thang on my lap, playing with the iPhone. I was trapped and I still wasn't through a cup of coffee. Then, the oldest one started asking me to play a geography board game with him. Really? REALLY? Because the other two suffocating me and insisting that I “help” them with what they were doing and keeping me from my coffee just wasn't enough, right? Double sigh.

Then, the youngest one refused to listen to me and I finally took the phone from her and told her to go play. She had a screaming fit in the floor, but I am pretty sure I won, because she did eventually go to her room and scream in there for awhile instead of right in my face. I downloaded a geography app on my phone and handed that to the oldest one. I was pretty sure that I had won that battle as well, but then he announced that the phone magically bought the full version of the app instead of the free one I originally downloaded. Um. No. But, he's doing geography and I'm not involved, so whatever, bye-bye $0.99. I consider you well spent. Punkinhead finished his reading lesson and moved on to something that did not require my attention, and I ran away to type this. I am getting ready to go guzzle down another cup of coffee. I intend to finish it while it's still hot this time, and I refuse to hear anything out of the kids until it's gone. There may not be enough coffee. Some days there aren't. Some days are like that... Even in Australia.

Laughing in the Face of Diabetes

   Living my life as the wife of a diabetic can be challenging. I don't face same challenges that my husband faces, obviously, but though my own burdens are different, that does not make them less. It's his disease, obviously, and thus he is the one that suffers the physical consequences of his choices and the one who will reap the return on his investment in management of the disease down the road, be it large or small. But since I live with him, I'm often at the mercy of his glucose dependent mood swings, and of course, the diet of our entire family has been impacted by his needs. I worry over what his glucose levels are. I ponder over how to prepare our meals so that they suit his dietary needs. I worry over exposing him to germs, because diabetics can get sick easier, and have a harder time recovering. I even, with my sometimes ridiculous and overactive imagination, spend time worrying about the fact that if the world as we know it comes to an end, he's got an expiration date because insulin has a definite shelf date. Somehow the apocalypse doesn't seem nearly as fun without him in it.

Being a well managed diabetic comes with a lot of responsibility. Every bite of food that you eat needs to be accounted for. Type 1 diabetics, like my husband, need to check their blood glucose levels several times each day. Before he got his continuous monitor, he was testing approximately 6 times each day. Even with the monitor, it's still necessary to test at least 3 times each day, or however many times he eats, because he has to use his test results to gauge his insulin dosage. He takes a minimum of 5 injections of insulin each day; 2 doses of his basal, or long acting insulin, and a dose of bolus, or short acting insulin before each meal. He also has to take into account any physical activity or unusual stress because that can have a big impact on his levels. As you can tell, it is, as I said, a lot. We usually cope with the stress of it all with a lot of humor. In life, with these types of things, it's either laugh or cry, so we choose laugh. Sometimes, though, things really are funny. For example, most recently my kids have been discussing what they would like for Christmas. Eggy, age 8, has quite the impressive list of desires. He wants a netbook, an iPod, a Nook, and several dozen other expensive things. So far, our 6 year old, Punkinhead, however, has announced only one item that he wants on his Christmas list. Two nights ago, he explained to us that he hopes Santa clause brings him his own glucose meter and test strips so that he can test his blood sugar 6 times a day, just like Daddy. We had to laugh over that one. Apparently, to the 6 year old, all that finger poking seems fun! Or else, when you're 6, you want to be just like Daddy, no matter what. Either way, I'll be thankful if my little man never has need to poke his little fingers 6 times a day, regardless.