Ouch.

After I got the dinner on the table, I started cooking again so Daniel could have empanadas for this week's school lunches. I also popped some GF brownies in the oven because I was out of desserts other than a few chocolate candies and the last of a bag of some verrrrrry crunchy Midel ginger snaps.

Rolling dough, remembering the laundry left in the dryer from yesterday, catering to children's requests, general juggling. I said to Daniel, "what did I used to do with my free time? I can't remember."

And he hit back with, "Two years mom. Then I'm going to college. I'll be out of here and you'll have less to do."

Ouch. That was below the belt.

I suggested that he might consider going to University of Maryland and commuting from home. Good GF food here, and his local endocrinologist to boot. But he said, NO WAY, I'm GOING. Echoes of me at that age.

What will I do with my spare time? Miss him terribly. And work on creating delicious gluten-free care packages.

It's exhausting.

It's exhausting trying to make myself understood to teenagers. Or preteens. Or youngsters. Or anybody. Sometimes I think I'm speaking an alien language, and the people to whom I'm speaking are smiling and nodding just to humor me until I go away.

I don't even feel like going into the details. Suffice it to say that I thought I made myself clear, and Daniel thought I did not. Until I blew up, at which point I was, of course, overreacting. Because I initially did not make a clear request, so how could there be follow through?

Oh, yeah, and just ignore all those low insulin warnings and let the pump start sucking air, while you're at it.

ack. Calgon, take me away.

Phooey Fluey I forgot

I was supposed to get a flu shot in fall; they were being given at my workplace for a nominal charge. I signed up for it, but the day came and I had a sick child and had to stay home. Then I forgot. How many times was I in CVS picking up prescriptions, where I could have plonked down my $20 and gotten a shot while waiting? Fuggetaboutit. I forgot.

Daniel did not get a flu shot this year, either. He should, as he is at higher risk for complications with his diabetes. I blame this one on lack of organization on my part. I was better able to keep track of all these things when I wasn't working full time. So I forgot.

This morning I took Nora in to the doctor's office, where we found out that she has the flu. Dominic was with us because we did a walk-in appointment on the way to dropping him off at school. The doctor said to Dominic, "Stay away from your sister!" I nodded, thinking about the scuffle they got into 20 minutes earlier as I was trying to get them to go into the car. Ugh. As we were leaving I thought, hmmm. I don't remember scheduling Dominic's physical back in January... So I checked with the nurse. It turns out that I forgot.

Luckily, I didn't forget to buy lysol the last time I was at the store. I've been spraying and wiping and praying and hoping that the flu stops with Nora.

Ginkgo, anyone?

Reality

I don't watch reality shows. Maybe I'm showing my age, but when I turn on the boob tube it's for a dose of some unreality. Visions of what life would be like with a laugh track or dramatic musical accompaniment. I'm also a great fan of a compelling plot.

I heard a story on the radio the other day that reported on one of the ways producers add tension and drama to these reality shows --by depriving the participants of sleep. Nothing will make you more edgy than getting 3 night's worth of sleep in a week's span. That's what the sleep level has been like chez moi this week, and friends, although I won't tune in to those shows, I'm just about ready to participate in one.

This afternoon's show was Adventures in Multitasking!!! Watch the harried mom, on little sleep and much caffeine, rush to meet a freelance deadline, fix the printer in her son's room, cook dinner, find pictures of Puerto Rico on Google images for the middle school girl's project, scoop youngest off the driveway after a bike wipeout, apply ice, answer 3 phone calls (three more edits! fix page count! reduce picture size & PDF!), translate "hot springs" into Spanish, email documents, remove ice pack, email documents again after they bounce back because they are too big, worry that child protective services will see youngest child's biking bruises and take him away, repeat the words, "DO YOUR HOMEWORK!" 100 times, serve dinner, all in the space of 15 minutes!

Who needs reality? I'm ready for a chick flick.

The Feet Are Up

Picture 174, 4-25-08, The Feet Are Up
Originally uploaded by NaomiPoet

Daniel had a "physics" field trip to Six Flags amusement part today. Okay, the kids all had physics work to do, figuring out acceleration of roller coasters, and other cool stuff like that. But mostly it was a day of fun. There were thousands of kids from many physics classes across the region.

Today was also the "test" day for Six Flags employees, as their opening day to the public is tomorrow. I hope they get their act together! It's probably the worst theme park that I've ever visited, on many levels.

While Daniel was on the rides, I thought I'd check out the souvenir shops so I could bring something home to my other kids. The employees greeted me when I entered the stores & asked if I needed anything. When I finally decided on a couple of items, I brought them to the counter. The young lady who waited on me was very nice, but this was obviously her first time using a scanning device on a bar code. She just couldn't get the thing to work, but she kept clicking it on and off very fast, instead of holding the beam of red light on the bar code for a couple of seconds.

Click! Hmmm. Click! Hmmm. I waited patiently, although I wanted to walk around and grab it out of her hands. "TRY IT THIS WAY!!!!"

Finally, she called her manager who said, impatiently, "just type in the number!" Which worked. At least *that* worked.

I took out my charge card because I wanted to save my cash for lunch. The charge would not go through. It kept saying "processing" forever, then it wouldn't finalize. Eventually I told them to forget it and I walked away. I found out from others in the park that no one could get charges to go through. I also found out that most of the ATM machines were not working, either! I had given Daniel $20 (mostly for drinks, because I had to bring his lunch) and I had $20. It doesn't get you very far there.

I walked around to the different food courts. Most everything was fried, which upsets my stomach. I finally went to a hot dog stand and asked for a hot dog (I really don't like them but it's better on my system than fried food) but there were no hot dogs. They hadn't arrived yet. What??? I did see a Papa John's pizza place there, but for one slice you had to pay almost $7.00 and I just couldn't get myself to do that! Sbarros sells slices twice as big for half the price in malls around the country!

There was also a Chinese food place in a separate small building, Panda Express. The room was about 85 degrees. I stood in line for 10 minutes, and the line didn't move a bit. I saw one girl eating her food -- chicken, batter fried on fried rice -- and at that point I felt like I was going to PASS OUT if I didn't get some cold water so I walked out.

I ended up getting popcorn and cinnamon almonds for lunch, with a big bottle of water. I think the park keeps their drinking fountains at a very warm temperature so that you buy more cold drinks instead of refilling your bottle.

Daniel paid $8.00 for two sodas. One of the soda machines ate one of his dollars.

Honestly, don't these places make enough money on admission and souvenirs? I think it's outrageous how much they charge for food and drinks. I also think the food choices at our local Six Flags are the worst of any amusement park anywhere!

Then there were the rides, which kept stopping. The Superman ride, the big draw, stuttered its way through the morning, with a 20 to 25 minute wait between each ride because of the constant breakdowns. Same with two of the other roller coasters. Some of the kids were late for lunch check in because they were stuck on a coaster.

No diabetes issues on this trip though, thank goodness! Daniel felt low when he was in line for one of the rides, but he got some sugar. He didn't even test at that point (grrrr!) but when he did test later on, his numbers were fine. It was nice to have an excursion without an emergency! His friends were also great -- holding his kit for him when he went on a ride. Actually, the time he was low, he had given his kit to a friend to hold (because they don't allow loose stuff on the rides). But they all have cell phones and he just called his friend to run the sugar over. No problem. No need for mom to hover.

We're both a little sunburned, with sore tootsies. Daniel had a blast, and finally got to ride the Superman roller coaster, after two separate 1 hour waits.

It was also good practice for the JDRF walk, which is next weekend!

Mommy Blues, Mommy Joy

It was hard to let Daniel go off to Boston this weekend, even though he was with his dad. I knew there would be time where the kids would be buddying up and off exploring. That's not anything new for him; he's done that on other field trips in the past -- before diabetes. Before celiac.

These teenage/high school years are tough on parents in so many ways. It is natural for our children to learn to care for themselves, and to break through the boundaries of comfort into a new, risky world. It is right for them to do this, to push away, to cause the little arguments that separate from the nest.

Really, it was only a couple of years ago that I did the same thing. No one kicked harder, screamed more, and fought against parental authority than I did. So I remember. I *know*.

Now I'm getting it back, aren't I? Not that Daniel is mean and nasty like I was; quite the contrary. We are so blessed to have an excellent relationship with him, an open, caring, communicative connection. I think that some of that is a by product of the diabetes diagnosis within the last year. We've had to rely on each other in a new, raw way that only served to strengthen our parent-child bond. I feel his needs now with the same intensity I felt when he was a newborn, the kind that mellows as children grow older and more independent. Fighting this disease brings out that early, ferocious motherlove. At the same time I see Daniel starting to slip through these bonds. Part of him holds on, I know, because he is learning a new way of life, and is thankful for the love and support Matt and I give him. But part of him is breaking away, as he should.

It's heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time to watch your child transform into an adult. You see it physically first, his arm and leg bones lengthening; his head changing shape, giving him a more focused, less wide-eyed look. Then there is a change in attitude. He's helping without asking, opening doors & carrying packages. He's discussing world events. He sees outside the bubble of his inner world. He connects with people who have sympathetic views of the world. He speaks easily with both younger kids and adults. He is thinking of who and what he will become. Yet he is still forgetful, leaving blood testing strips staining the kitchen table, and assignments for school sitting on the printer. He growls at his younger brother for touching his stuff. He is caught in between one age and the next.

So often we get wrapped up in our day to day routine. Get to school, get to work, pay the bills, worry about tomorrow. Spring break ends tonight, and the wheels will start spinning faster. I guess I just wanted to take a snapshot of this moment, before Daniel leaves childhood entirely, to appreciate him for his successes and his faults, for his bravery and his retreat. I hope I can let go gracefully, so that he will come back, fully grown, on his own to reconnect with his parents on a different, more complex level. Always in love, always in beauty.

Second Post of the Day

I just read Shannon's blog and had to do one more post.

Dominic came home from school the last day before spring break and said that his friend told him that if you go into the bathroom at night and turn off all the lights and say "Bloody Mary" three times, then Bloody Mary would appear in the mirror and throw a baby at you. If you don't catch the baby, then you will die when you are 13. And, by the way, did I know that Bloody Mary was a queen who got her head cut off?

What the hell are they learning in first grade these days?

Anyway, to prove him wrong, I went into the bathroom, turned out all the lights, and said "Bloody Mary" three times. Nothing happened. No baby. I told him as much. (By the way, what happens if you catch the baby? Do you get to keep it?) He said I didn't shout Bloody Mary at the top of my lungs, so it didn't work.

That's me. Always doing thing wrong...

The A-ha Moment

Last night:

(Daniel) Why is Dominic acting up so much tonight? He keeps kicking me and spinning around and he won't shut up!!

(Me) I guess he's just in one of his moods. DOMINIC!! Stop kicking your brother! Settle down! If I hear one more problem then you will go to bed THAT MINUTE!! (this was about 20 minutes before bedtime).

(Dominic) Okay. I'm sorry.

Cut to 4 a.m. Retching noises coming from the boys' bedroom.

Cut to 5:30 a.m. Was it after the 5th or 6th time that Dominic threw up that I thought about last night and said, "A ha...."


His bed. His rug. My bed. My rug. My bathroom rugs. My bathroom sink & cabinet. His pjs. My pjs. Finally, the toilet.

I Look Around

I look around and see half-inch specks of tinsel in the living room and the front hall. I vacuumed every bit of tinsel after Christmas, and yet there are new pieces appearing every week. I think they laid eggs, and baby tinsel are starting to crawl out. I wonder if there will be a swarm.

Yesterday before I went to sleep I cleaned off the kitchen counter. I took the kids' books and put them in their chairs in the kitchen so the kids could put them away. I went through my paperwork and filed it. I put away the boxes of crackers and the empty glasses.

This morning the kitchen counter was full of stuff again. It is a stuff magnet. At night while we sleep, random stuff from all over the house congregates on the kitchen counter. It gets confused there, perhaps drinks some wine, and then can't find its way back to its proper place.

Daniel thought dinner smelled like shit tonight. And it did, except that it wasn't dinner. It was the bottom of Nora's shoe. She stepped in some particularly pungent, hay-laced shit while playing this afternoon. She walked across the playroom rug with her shoes on, washed her hands well at the kitchen sink, and sat down at the table with incredibly stinky shoes. We told her to take off the shoes & put them in the garage and then sweep up the chunks of shit that fell off of her shoes under the table.

Now the broom smells like shit.

Daniel's dinner numbers have been high. high HIGH HIGH. We've tinkered with basal & bolus rates. We have to call the pen nurse tomorrow. I don't know how to fix this stuff.

Last night we went out to dinner. The waiter looked at Nora, who was wearing a pink turtle neck covered by a pink & purple poncho with a fun fur trim & asked "what is he having for dinner?" HE? Yes, her hair is short, but not too short. She's actually growing it out now. She even let me blow it dry and fluff it up. She wears earrings. She's in fuzzy pink for God's sake!!! Why do people look at her and say "he?" It drives me crazy. Last year, when she got her hair cut so short and wore her usual tomboyish clothes, I could understand, even though it still made me mad. But when she makes an effort, when she puts on pink & fluffs her hair, the whole stupid world should see that she's a SHE.

How can it possibly be Sunday night? Work? Tomorrow? I haven't finished the laundry!! I haven't read enough blogs, I haven't cooked an extra meal for the week!! I can't find where Daniel put the dusting spray it's past bed time and the kids are still awake the Ctrl key keeps popping off and I can't finish writing

Boomerang!

I'm always tired on Thursdays because Wednesday is my busiest day. Work, the after school rush, karate, yoga. I stay after at yoga to clean the studio and get home late. Sometimes I retain enough relaxation to fall asleep, sometimes I get a second wind from cleaning the studio and driving home so that when I get home at 10:30 or so I need a few minutes to settle back down again. Such was the case this Wednesday. When I got home the house was already quiet. Matt didn't wait up for me this time.

I don't know what it is like for the rest of you out there, but I find that I sleep better when I can fall asleep before my husband does. It's not a snoring thing -- although he does snore when he is congested, but that wasn't the case on Wednesday night. But I was listening to the noises of the world, from close in (his breathing) to the wind barreling through Maryland that night, the ticks and clanks of the heat going through the ducts, the occasional shifts and sighs of children sleeping. My brain would not turn off.

This made Thursday a slogging, cracked-lens kind of day. The end of work couldn't come fast enough, the "finish your homework brush your teeth get to bed" was a top priority for the kids. I wanted to finish the last 2 chapters of a book Daniel had given me to read so he could return it to his school library. Daniel was trying to do some song rearrangement/loading via my laptop onto his ipod. I did remember to pull him away from the computer long enough to give him his Lantus shot. I did not notice that he didn't test his blood sugar before going to bed. Just one of those little omissions that happen over time, the psychic weight of which add up in my head. What am I forgetting today that can lead to consequences tomorrow? Next month?

2:45 a.m. "Mom, I think I'm low." Check. 53. Daniel gets ravenous when he is low, and at the same time unsteady, with clouded thinking. At 3 a.m. he'd rather not attempt gas stove usage, so I made him an omelet, thinking, as I always do, "how will he deal with this when he is grown?"

I logged his blood sugar number in the book and saw then that he didn't have a bed time number written down. I checked the meters. No record. I said, "maybe we would have had an indication that this was coming if you had tested?" He didn't agree, reminding me of middle-of-the-night lows that happen for no reason. Then I remembered.

The new elliptical. Daniel had a good workout last night for the first time in a few weeks, since his gym class ended in January. His blood sugar responded accordingly, at a most inconvenient time! So we live, we learn, and we'll figure out how to prepare for a good night's sleep after exercise. Does anyone out there have any experience with this?

The Third Time's a Charm

Wild Child really annoyed me today. His Jekyll Hyde personality exploded in a public place, which didn't help matters. This, after he received great praise for his maturity and control.

Dominic came to work with me today because he had the day off of school. I work at the school he used to attend, so he visited his old classmates and spent the day with them. The teacher went out of her way to tell me how much he has grown up. How when he raised his hand to talk about things that were off subject, she told him that it wasn't the appropriate time and he said okay! He had a great day.

On the way home we stopped at CVS to pick up Daniel's prescriptions. Nora was with us too. They always ask if they can look at the toys in the toy aisle while I'm waiting to pay for the prescriptions. Fine. Well of course it is taking longer than usual because the person behind the counter can't find the stinking box of pen needles. As I'm waiting, I hear a screech coming from the toy aisle. I quickly excuse myself and go to find Dominic, red faced, complaining about his sister. I grab his hand and run back to the counter. All the while he is fighting me, trying to get back to the toys. I give him my sternest mom look and ask him to stay with me. He screeches in reply.

Nora comes to tell me that Dominic wanted to see all the things that were hanging on the pegs (there were different things behind the front toy), so he was taking them off and putting them on the floor. A CVS employee told her that he wasn't allowed to do that. So she picked them up and put them back. Then Dominic attempted to lift up the front toy to see what was behind it, and Nora thought that wasn't what he should be doing. Screech.

I told Dominic that we could go together to look at what was hanging on the pegs as soon as I got the prescriptions, if he would just calm down and listen. STAMP. SCREECH. Back up two paces. More stern looks on my part. More screeches on his. The prescriptions finally arrive and are paid for. I marched Dominic out of the store.

When we got home, Dominic went into time out. Time out has never been a great thing for him, because he'll slam the door and tear his room apart rather than take the time to calm down.

The things that worked on my other two kids just don't work on this one.

Anyway, he went into time out with a major warning. If I heard one stamp, one slam, one screech, or if his room got messed up, I would call his karate teacher and take him out of class.

Here's the deal. I'm soooo tired of doing the "catch him being good" thing. It just doesn't make a difference to him, or at least, it doesn't at home. We had a talk just this morning about tantrums, and how inappropriate they are for a 7 year old. I said to him, "do you ever get mad at school? Do you have screaming fits there?"

"I do get mad at school. But I don't want to get in trouble. So I calm down and deal with it."

AGH! After I calmed down (I had to clean 2 rooms to do it) I went to Dominic, who was, by then, quite calm and happy. I told him that I have had it. I'm done with tantrums. If he can control himself at school, then he can control himself for the person who loves him most in this world. And if he has a tantrum again, he's going to lose something precious to him. Like his DS. Or his guitar. Or his favorite car book. Whatever. I'm just not putting up with it anymore.

So he says to me, "then I can just use some of the money I have to buy more things!"

Okay. Good point. I said, "That's true. But here's the deal. The first thing you will lose is your money. I'm sure there are lots of underprivileged kids who could really use it. After that's gone, and your piggy bank is empty, then we'll start working on your stuff."

Of course he got very sad. And I explained how sad I was every time he screamed loud enough to break my eardrums. But I reminded him... he doesn't have to lose anything. All he has to do is control that temper. I reminded him of the many techniques I have told him about to try to get him to calm down, the major two being taking deep breaths and talking about the situation.

We'll see what happens. Maybe Super Nanny will appear at my door and tell me that I'm doing everything wrong and that I need a chart on the wall with gold stars for good behavior... but I'd probably just kick her out into the street if she did. She just doesn't know Dominic.

Growing Up

Children are the most precious gifts we get in life, and they are also the creatures that test us to our most extreme limits. This unique dichotomy, the stretch between extreme love and intense frustration helps us grow in intelligence and spirituality in ways we never believed possible. One of the milestones of this journey of learning, the pain and joy, happens during the teenage years as these little individuals, so attached and dependent, morph into hairy, voice-altered, oddly-styled humans who stand on their own two legs, which may be clothed in hiking boots or sequined shoes depending on the model you happen to have.

There are moments of maturity that catch me by surprise. There was the time I came home from the grocery store and Daniel got up from the table to help bring in the bags from the car. Unprompted.

There was the time that Nora knew I was exhausted from getting up in the middle of the night to check Daniel's blood sugar, and she cleaned the kitchen while I snoozed.

There was that moment that Daniel held a syringe to his abdomen for the first time, and his dad and I said, "just do it quickly, don't think about it" and he said, "wait... I'm almost ready." A few minutes later, he was ready. And he never looked back.

Nora is 85% tomboy; she wears t-shirts and sweat pants and plays football as well as the guys, but the t-shirts may have rainbows on them and they will probably match the pants. She cuts her hair short, but keeps sparkly studs in her pierced ears. She prefers comfortable shoes to the pointy toed ones that her friends wear, but it takes her HOURS to shop for something perfect. And all this leads up to...

I bought her an outfit to wear to the theater because her class was going on a field trip and they had to dress appropriately. At first Nora railed against the fact that she couldn't wear jeans because they were, in her opinion, NOT casual. They looked nice. But I found a swirly-patterned red/black/white top with some black velveteen pants. Colors bright and bold, just like her personality. She tried them on and my tomboy disappeared. A young woman, the person she is changing into, stepped in front of me and took my breath away.

I experienced this weird, magical moment where I could see her crawling on the floor, banging on tupperware, and at the same time, waving goodbye in a new suit on her way to work. My eyes teared up and my heart hiccuped. Two of my three children are accelerating their process of becoming.

I really do try to let go, to let it happen. To let time flow over me easily. Sometimes I get in the car and turn on the radio, and the Talking Heads are followed by the Go Gos and I feel like I'm that person I was in the 80's on my way to a party, even though the vehicle carrying me is a minivan. Then I come back to myself, and laugh as I realize that my kids are in the back and singing with me. They know all the words, just as I did, just as I taught them.

I do everything I can, as a parent, to give my children the tools they need to live their own lives. At the same time I can hardly bear to let them go.

Brain Freezes & Thaws

Things I didn't do:

Mail the phone bill.
Call my mom.
Read the "Castle" book from Dominic's trip to the school library.
Talk to my husband about his interview.
Finish everything on my desk at work.
Clean 1 room today.
Water my garden.

Things I remembered:

Daniel's earlier shot on a school day.
How many carbs Daniel had for dinner (so he wouldn't miss the last 20).
What time Nora had her medicine and what her temperature was.
Daniel's class schedule (about a minute before the bus came).
Asking Dominic what happened at school & the names of his new friends.
To call Kathryn to see if she is okay.
To look at a few headlines to know what happened in the world.
To write, if just for a few minutes.

Super low

Second blog of the day. Daniel just had his lowest low ever. He wasn't even feeling that low, he said, but when he tested he was 38. So I told him to stay still and calmly got the pixie stix (did you see that? calmly? yeah, right, only on the outside) and told him that the nurse at the hospital told me her T-1 husband was walking around with a low of 12 once.

Daniel said he was suddenly starving and wanted free food, like cheese sticks. After his pixie stick he had 2 cheese sticks and a piece of roast beef. He's blinking his eyes really hard and shaking his head -- trying to clear the spots from his vision because suddenly he's close to passing out. So he took just one glucose tablet while waiting for the 15 minutes to go by and when time is up he is at 72.

Night time shot is in 1/2 hour. Big snack tonight, I think.

My stomach hurts.

It's Only Tuesday

First day of school was yesterday and all three kids instantly are under the weather. ???? How does this happen? Hello, here is your syllabus and a few million germs. Please don't wash your hands and be sure to rub your eyes a lot.

Trash cans in both kids' rooms are overflowing with ragged lumps of tissue and the humidifiers are sighing and gurgling a misty lullaby.

If I look out the window behind me, I can see a full, or nearly full moon overhead. The night is slightly cool & humid, it's the kind of moonlight that used to see me sneaking out of my house when I was a teenager so I could sit on the lawn and soak it in, feel its magic. Moonbathing.

Full moons on yoga nights mean restoratives. Stay full one more night, moon.
One more night for me.

Last Week

Last week, during the horrible heat wave, I had to get out of the house and take a walk because diabetes & celiac were all I did for a day and the kids were fractious and the heat jailed us. Even the pool was nasty, the water was too warm to be refreshing. When Matt came home I told him that I needed to go out for a walk and I needed to do it alone (rather than taking diabetes boy out for exercise). It was hot, but the sun had fallen over the edge of the trees so the only real heat I felt was what oozed up out of the sidewalk, the remains of the day. Everything had a burned smell to it and the grass was crispy; it sounded like I was walking across a snowy lawn. The smell sent me back to when I was a kid and I lived in Florida. We lived in Cape Canaveral, near where the astronauts took off, in some apartments off the main strip, A1A. I used to cross A1A to walk to school. It was a Rockville Pike kind of place, but this was the 1970's, so it was kind of kitschy, and glowed with neon at night. As I walked my neighborhood, a hot breeze sprang up, carrying with it McDonalds smells, Baskin Robbins, gas stations. A line of poetry ran through my head as I was carried back in time to 4th grade and A1A, and I tried to hold one line, then another in my head as I walked, but I said to the universe that it would really be helpful to have a pen with which to capture these words before I get distracted, as I so often do. Maybe 20 yards later--right in the middle of the sidewalk--a pen. I picked it up and scratched it experimentally across my thumb. Ink! I suppose I could write all over my hand, I told the universe as I resumed my walk, but paper would really be helpful. A few steps later I saw a flash of white to my left -- a paper towel. Yeah, I thought, not so good for writing. What I really need is lined paper. And before I turned the next corner, folded up on the grass at the edge of someone's lawn, was my lined paper. Dirty, a bit crumpled, but lined. I stopped now for a moment and the thought came to me that I should thank the universe for its gifts, and I did. And I wrote my accumulated bits of poetry quickly on the paper, walking slowly (walking while writing is not one of my strong points). When it was done, I tucked both in my pocket and thought that as long as the universe is handing out gifts tonight, I could really use a twenty because I never got to the banking machine today and I'm out of cash. Or a wad of twenties. Hmmm? I scanned the road ahead, the lawns to the side. No twenty. Ah well, I guess I caught my limit. I picked up the pace and walked off the day, the diseases, the petty bickering, the unclean house, the unpaid bills. One mile turned into two and the sweat swiveled its way down my neck and some of the troubles of the day stopped mattering so much. Then I came back round to my conversation with the universe and apologized for being so crass as to ask for cash. I guess it wasn't really a very nice thing to do. A bit tacky. And as I apologized, I saw another fluttering in another lawn, a small, flat... dollar bill. A one. Perhaps a lesson in tact. A tip. And I immediately thanked the universe once again, not for the actual money, but for its kind attention, because sometimes the best gift is just knowing that you are, in some small way, being heard.

Hot nights and neon
I remember the Holiday Inn sign on A1A
with the star on top,
the buzzing lights
of other greasy spoons.
My dad called it "prole food."
A half mile walk to my elementary school
on the beach, it was called
Cape View
and still may be.
I could Google it to see
if it still is, still has a view
of that jut of land where the rockets launched,
another star in the sky.

Working on an article

This life is never easy, complacent, or just what you want it to be... why should it be? Without challenge, how would we grow? And yet I ask for challenge with one hand behind my back, fingers crossed, against what might come.

I'm trying to put my thoughts and actions into words and have been working on what might be an article in the near future. In the past few months, my son's diabetes & celiac seem to rule the household, and I'm trying to put these diseases in their place. To let them be part of what we are as a family, part of the background in our tapestry, not the main design.

This is what I've got so far:

I bought a caster board the other day, ostensibly for my kids, but with the great desire to master it myself. A caster board is something you stand on to ride like a skateboard, but there are only two wheels on the bottom. They are caster wheels, like the kind at the bottom of your grocery store cart, and they spin around. The board has two segments, front and back, that are connected by a metal pole. When you step on the board you can rotate the segments around the pole in the same direction or in opposition to each other to make tight turns. It’s like a skateboard, but not like a skateboard. You can stand on a skateboard and be perfectly still, and have balance. In order to gain balance on a caster board, you have to move. Your balance starts to come when you wiggle your hips, causing the casters to wobble back and forth. In this way you move forward, you turn, and even go up hills. It’s not for the faint of heart, just like life. You should always wear a helmet.

Last month my fourteen year old son was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. I had noticed that Daniel was looking skinny, and even commented to my sister in law that he must be going through some major growth spurt. “He’s all angles, elbows, & knees,” I said. “I bet his pants will be high-water tomorrow, and then he’ll start filling out.” Instead, he just got thirsty. And that didn’t set off warning bells, because diabetes was so far off my radar that I didn’t know there should be warning bells. Daniel complained that he was tired because he kept getting up at night to go to the bathroom. “Well,” I said, “quit drinking so much! You are going to the bathroom because I always see you slamming down water, juice, seltzer, Gatorade… Stop drinking before bedtime!”

“I can’t,” he said. “I’m thirsty.” Still I didn’t take notice. No bells. Next, Daniel came down with an apparent sinus infection, and we went to the doctor for antibiotics. They helped initially, until Daniel complained of a funny taste in his mouth. He was still tired, and had a headache that didn’t quit. We switched antibiotics. I tried to get him to rinse his mouth with mouthwash to get rid of the taste, but it just made him throw up. This was a Saturday. On Sunday I started to feel queasy and spent most of the day on the couch. Daniel threw up again, and I figured we both had the stomach flu. Monday morning we both were praying to the porcelain gods, and we stayed home from work and school.

By Tuesday I was on the road to recovery, and Daniel was still in bed. He had a constant frown on his face, and his skin had a funny pallor. He was tired and drawn. I asked if he felt any better than the day before, or worse. He said worse, so I made another appointment with the doctor. We drove over mid morning, and I had to hold onto Daniel to help him get across the street to the doctor. He said it was exhausting just walking around.

Now, I don’t know if you know teenagers, but they are prone to exaggeration. Parents have to slice through the ribbons of high drama exploding from a teen’s daily experience to find out what is really happening. So I looped my arm through Daniel’s and cheerfully said, “one foot in front of the other, we’re almost at the doctor’s.” I think it was only when I saw the doctor and the nurse looking at Daniel – saw the looks on their faces – that the first trickles of fear crept up my scalp. Daniel got on the scale, and we found that in the two months since he had last been to the there for his annual physical, he had lost 13 pounds. He was not experiencing a growth spurt; he was positively skeletal. Doctor Sakai told me that he was calling an ambulance and sending us to the hospital because if we arrived in an ambulance we wouldn’t have to wait in the waiting room, and we needed immediate admittance. He said it was diabetes, but I just didn’t know what he was saying. After “ambulance” and “hospital,” other words bounced off my ears.

I’ve always tried to stay balanced, or centered, in my life. For more than 20 years I have taken yoga classes to achieve inner peace and both mental and physical balance. I can stand on one leg for ages and, for most situations, breathe my way to calmness. But standing on solid ground only offers one kind of challenge. For a more difficult test, one can strive to achieve balance on the ice, laced onto blades and letting go of the wall. Still manageable, IMHO. But for thrill seekers, there’s more. I’ve never liked trying to achieve balance when the world rushes past full tilt, as in skiing, surfing, or skateboarding. Perhaps it is a control issue; why rush willy nilly over bumpy ground with hidden potholes, wipeout trees, or crushing waves… only to do it again? I’ve never been a speed demon. Isn’t life fast enough?

I followed the ambulance to the hospital on automatic pilot. In the car, I called my husband first. Then my parents and my in-laws to ask about family history. My husband arrived at the hospital soon after I did, and after the ER doctor told us that on sickness scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the sickest, Daniel was at about a 9. He wanted to transfer us to Children’s National Medical Center because they would provide a higher level of care, which Daniel needed.

Daniel is my oldest child. I have two other children, Nora (10) and Dominic (6) who were at school while all this was going on. Daniel, Nora, Dominic and I spend much of our time together because I work at the small school that they all attended at the time. My husband and I decided that I would ride in the ambulance to Childrens, and he would pick up the other kids at school. Daniel and I got to Childrens at the same time the Queen of England was visiting; all the elevators were locked down and I couldn’t leave the Emergency area. While the nurses were doing their initial readings, I went outside to make a couple of phone calls. I needed to inform family and work that we would be at the hospital for 3 days. I had to pass along responsibilities to friends and coworkers. I stood outside the hospital and blanked out – couldn’t figure out who I could call to watch my other kids so my husband could come to the hospital. Of course, my cell phone battery was almost dead.

Luckily, my husband’s brain was still working, and he arranged for child care. He brought me fresh clothes and took care of everything at home. I sat by Daniel’s side in intensive care. At Children’s NMC, you are allowed to stay up all night by your child in Intensive care, as long as you can stay awake. If you need to sleep, there are rooms where you can camp out on chairs that open up into beds. Daniel was exhausted, and fell asleep, so his nurse, Naslene, helped me claim a chair and found some sheets. I conked out somewhere near midnight for a short time. There were quiet murmurs throughout the night in a few different languages as moms, dads, and siblings sprawled and yawned their way through the late hours. At about 3:30 the cell phone of the lady next to me started ringing. She slept through it, even though she had been whispering rapid Spanish only a half hour before. I think it was about the 5^th time that it rang that I reached over and touched her foot. She started, grabbed her phone, and left the room. Naslene came for me at 4:30 a.m. because Daniel was asking for me.

Diabetic ketoacidosis is a dangerous condition that can occur when a person’s pancreas stops making insulin. When you eat, your blood sugar rises. Your pancreas—specifically the islet cells in your pancreas—have the job of producing insulin to keep the blood glucose level in a normal range for the human condition. Insulin is like a key that opens the cells and allows them to absorb the glucose, thereby giving your body the nutrition it needs to grow and thrive. If the insulin is not being produced, your glucose level goes up and your body reacts by trying to flush it out of your system. You get thirsty. You pee a lot. At the same time, your body is not getting the nutrition it needs, so it starts breaking down your fat to survive. A by-product of breaking down your fat is acid, and this acid can give you heartburn, a stomach ache, and make you vomit. You experience rapid weight loss. You have no energy. You are in diabetic ketoacidosis.

That's all for now.. I've kind of been in a holding pattern. Summer is busy with all the kids at home, so much to do , trying to fit work in as well. Fifteen minutes here, half an hour there to try to get thoughts down. I don't know how other people fit writing into their lives, but maybe blogging is the easiest way? Time to give it a try.