Easter Sunday Was Not Boring
I'm roused to the sound of Brendon saying "Mom I want breakfast". It's 6:15 am, and I'm certainly not getting up out of bed to make him breakfast yet. I tell him so, and he goes downstairs to watch some TV.
Around 7 am, Brendon returns, and lo and behold Jeff takes him downstairs to make him breakfast. Ah, sweet slumber returns...but not so fast. I hear Jeff yelling, Brendon crying, but it's not enough to get me out of bed. I just assumed Brendon wanted his Easter basket before breakfast.
What does get me out of bed is, "Mommy TeeTee bed wet" (translation: "Jakey peed in mommy's bed"). Fuuudge. So I finally roll out of bed, strip the sheets, Fabreze the mattress and make my way downstairs.
What a fabulous Easter morning.
I see Jeff in the kitchen with his jaw clenched tight and tears rolling down Brendon's cheeks.
"What happened?", I asked.
"Brendon dosed himself."
"Yikes!!"
"I checked him for breakfast and he was high. I went to correct him and saw "insulin on board", so I asked if he dosed himself."
In a nutshell, Brendon came down at around 5:30 am, ate candy and dosed himself for 30 carbs. Jeff grilled Brendon, Brendon lied through the questioning, Jeff flew off the handle, Brendon cried.
Easter had begun.
After hearing Jeff's account of what happened, I picked my heart up off the floor and did a carb count based on what candy was missing. Brendon was short by 10 carbs, thank goodness. He knows the lock code, so now it's time to lock up his pump with lock and key (literally).
Our plans for Easter Sunday were to leave the house at 11, have lunch at a tiny Italian seafood restaurant in Hampton (seaside) that we've gone to for Easter Sunday since we moved here. Then off to comb the beach for shells and rocks.
Jeff leaves for a jog after breakfast, and 2 hours later (at 11:30) he returns and starts fiddling with this and that around the house. I get pissed, he finally dresses, and we're out the door by 12:30.
What a fine Easter Sunday.
We do our lunch thing and head for the beach.
We thought the beach would be a lot colder by the water because it was so windy, but we just needed sweatshirts. The cool, harsh wind made my ears ache, but I couldn't have been at a better place.
The ocean is my most favorite place to be. I never get bored watching the waves roll in and lick the sand.
I spotted a lone surfer sitting on his board with the water undulating beneath him.
A word about the New Hampshire coastline: The waves are tiny...very tiny. They're lucky if they reach 24 inches (they could be more or less).
I wanted to yell out "Dude, you can't hang ten on a lump of water!!" but he looked so peaceful, I just couldn't do it.
I found a comfortable seat on a boulder and just sat and watched the water, and watched the kids try to skip stones (I'm telling you, the waves are tiny), and watched them climb the boulders that made up part of a seawall.
I could've sat there forever.
Jeff later told me, when we got home, that he could see on my face how at peace I was sitting there and that he was sure there was no place I'd rather be.
It turned out to be a great Easter Sunday.
Around 7 am, Brendon returns, and lo and behold Jeff takes him downstairs to make him breakfast. Ah, sweet slumber returns...but not so fast. I hear Jeff yelling, Brendon crying, but it's not enough to get me out of bed. I just assumed Brendon wanted his Easter basket before breakfast.
What does get me out of bed is, "Mommy TeeTee bed wet" (translation: "Jakey peed in mommy's bed"). Fuuudge. So I finally roll out of bed, strip the sheets, Fabreze the mattress and make my way downstairs.
What a fabulous Easter morning.
I see Jeff in the kitchen with his jaw clenched tight and tears rolling down Brendon's cheeks.
"What happened?", I asked.
"Brendon dosed himself."
"Yikes!!"
"I checked him for breakfast and he was high. I went to correct him and saw "insulin on board", so I asked if he dosed himself."
In a nutshell, Brendon came down at around 5:30 am, ate candy and dosed himself for 30 carbs. Jeff grilled Brendon, Brendon lied through the questioning, Jeff flew off the handle, Brendon cried.
Easter had begun.
After hearing Jeff's account of what happened, I picked my heart up off the floor and did a carb count based on what candy was missing. Brendon was short by 10 carbs, thank goodness. He knows the lock code, so now it's time to lock up his pump with lock and key (literally).
Our plans for Easter Sunday were to leave the house at 11, have lunch at a tiny Italian seafood restaurant in Hampton (seaside) that we've gone to for Easter Sunday since we moved here. Then off to comb the beach for shells and rocks.
Jeff leaves for a jog after breakfast, and 2 hours later (at 11:30) he returns and starts fiddling with this and that around the house. I get pissed, he finally dresses, and we're out the door by 12:30.
What a fine Easter Sunday.
We do our lunch thing and head for the beach.
We thought the beach would be a lot colder by the water because it was so windy, but we just needed sweatshirts. The cool, harsh wind made my ears ache, but I couldn't have been at a better place.
The ocean is my most favorite place to be. I never get bored watching the waves roll in and lick the sand.
I spotted a lone surfer sitting on his board with the water undulating beneath him.
A word about the New Hampshire coastline: The waves are tiny...very tiny. They're lucky if they reach 24 inches (they could be more or less).
I wanted to yell out "Dude, you can't hang ten on a lump of water!!" but he looked so peaceful, I just couldn't do it.
I found a comfortable seat on a boulder and just sat and watched the water, and watched the kids try to skip stones (I'm telling you, the waves are tiny), and watched them climb the boulders that made up part of a seawall.
I could've sat there forever.
Jeff later told me, when we got home, that he could see on my face how at peace I was sitting there and that he was sure there was no place I'd rather be.
It turned out to be a great Easter Sunday.
posted by Shannon at
9:01 AM
8 Comments:
I am glad that the tide rolled in and washed the bad start of the day way.
Happy Easter Monday!
By
Tongue in Cheek Antiques, at 4/17/2006 10:54 AM
{{hugs}}
Boy the comment above me was so eloquent I can't think of anything better to say but DITTO!
Does brendon normally dose himself - but with supervision? Maybe he is ready to take on a little more so that in these cases it might not be such a worry. I'd feel proud that he was responsible enough to dose for what he ate but it is scary at the same time... I give you parents all the kudos in the world.
By
Erica, at 4/17/2006 11:41 AM
Thanks Corey :) You always know what to say to make me feel better.
Erica, yes...Brendon doses himself under our supervision. He knows what to do, so it wasn't like he randomly pressed buttons. He also counts carbs. But to put it all together on his own is too soon.
He's a smart cookie, but he's too ambitious for his age at times. I was impressed at first, but then thought what if he entered too many carbs and had a devastating low while we were still sleeping. That's what got me.
By
Shannon, at 4/17/2006 11:48 AM
I'm glad your Easter Sunday perked up. I love the ocean - wish we lived near it - I'd be there all the time ..... and I mean ALL the time. I love water ..... still makes me scratch my head to think of why we live on the prairies ????
Happy belated Easter :)
By
Jamie, at 4/17/2006 2:35 PM
I'm glad things did settle down for you -- and that you found some peace at one of my favorite spots. There really is nothing like clean ocean air and the sound of the surf.
It sounds like you were more concerned that Brendon had dosed and then not said anything... That's really scary. It did make me grin a little though -- mainly because I've been in that kids shoes... So what did you do, Nicole? Nothing. Until I got broken down and started to cry and then things got better...
Hope the peace is still with you today!
By
Nicole P, at 4/17/2006 4:13 PM
Jamie, if this were the 70's at the height of Little House on the Prairie, I'd be sooo jealous of you, LOL.
Nicole, I was more upset about him not saying anything. I have two goals in raising a son who has diabetes: #1 is that I don't want him to hide what he's done (no matter what it is) so as not to risk physical harm. #2 is that I don't want him to resent having diabetes to the point where he ignores his management.
If he does something he shouldn't, then I encourage him to tell me so that I can remedy the situation. I also tell him he can't do what he did and tell him the consequences of what can happen to his body if he does something without my knowledge.
I hate the thought of having to punish him for something when it comes to diabetes. I just try to take measures to prevent rather than take measures to punish (which would only cause secrecy on his part, not deterance).
By
Shannon, at 4/17/2006 5:51 PM
Shannon, I'm glad that the day got better for you and that Brendon didn't give himself too much insulin. That is scary. But, on the good side, at least he realized that he needed to bolus.
By
Penny Ratzlaff, at 4/17/2006 7:21 PM
That's exactly what I thought, Shannon. My mother had to exercise quite a bit of patience raising me, because I wanted to do everything - even the things I shoudn't have - on my own.
By
Nicole P, at 4/17/2006 8:12 PM
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