Can you tell who is who?

This year I'm kicking back and doing the candy handout while dad takes the kids trick-or-treating.

None of us liquor swilling moms will be taking the kids out this year. I'll be doing the liquor swilling at home instead.

Hopefully no one will get lost like last year.

As for the candy collection the kids will bring home, I plan to let them pick out a few of their favorite pieces and trade the rest for:

Brendon: Baseball cards to add to his collection. There is a baseball collecting shop I discovered in downtown Manchester where we'll bring him.

Jessica: Some Littlest Petshop pets to add to the pile she has.

Jacob: A CD to play in his Racecar CD player.

There really isn't a need for the loads of candy they'll have tonight (what would I have said when I was their age?)

The costumes, the experience of going door to door visiting neighbors, and trying to figure out which friend is disguised in costume will be what Halloween is all about.

Chilling

I was up late last night after checking to see if Kerri blasted me with Status Updates in our self imposed Battle of The Status Updates in Facebook.

After seeing that I had won ;)....I was wide awake and couldn't sleep.

At around 2:30 in the morning, I was about to shut off Conan when Brendon came down. He asked me to test him because he felt low.

In most of the years he's been on the pump, we've never had to do middle of the night testing because his numbers always held from around 10 p.m. until morning. Plus, with the work hours Jeff keeps, Brendon was checked before dawn anyway.

Now was different. When I tested him, he was a 45.

When he was younger and still on Humalog and NPH we did the 2 a.m. checks. We'd often catch lows that he was sleeping through.

It chills me to think that he could've slept through that low last night.

Jeff said when he did the 10 p.m. check last night, Brendon was a 45. He was treated as Jeff knew would be effective enough to get him through the night, but he dropped back down again overnight.

It looks like I'll be resuming the 2 a.m. checks from now on.

A Whiter Shade Of Pale

He came inside with bright red cheeks from the crisp Autumn air. The color of his cheeks were pronounced by the rest of his skin. He inherited his pale Irish skin from his mom. But now it was a whiter shade of pale. Without having to check him, I knew he was definitely low. The meter confirmed it. 48.

I was feeling kinda seasick
but the crowd called out for more
The room was humming harder
as the ceiling flew away....

If I look for signs other than that one, I never find them. He says he feels the signs that are listed on the paper, but to observe him, you wouldn't know it.

This is the print Brendon chose for a special mention in Tudiabetes' Word in Your Hand project.


Together by Pete Revonkorpi

He Made My Week....And It's Barely Started!

Kids are missing true heroes in their lives nowadays. Alas! We have one right here in our very own OC.

Check it out.

Pardon My French

There is a hint in that title that I'll post about next week...just so you know ;)

Anywho, on Saturday, I woke up to two emails sent to me from a commenter who saw the YouTube videos I took of Jacob singing Ba Ba Blacksheep with his guitar with our dog laying contentedly next to him.

I really wish I kept them to cut and paste here, but I was so fuming mad I was seeing red and deleted them. It took all I could muster to not comment back on the fucker's site. He was so rude and nasty. I made the videos private and blocked the guy so that no one has access anymore.

To tell you the truth though, it's kind of funny, now that I'm writing about it.

The first comment said something to the effect of:

You're so stupid for airing this video. And your poor dog is stuck there and obviously doesn't want to listen to your kid sing like shit. The little brat can't sing and the fucking guitar is out of tune. Why the fuck did you video tape this? It's fucking horrible.

The second comment said this...verbatim:

U moron.

I was thinking, fuuuuck yooouuu, Singapore man (he was supposedly from Singapore). Who asked for you opinion? Besides that, my dog was happy to be there. She would've got up and walked away if she thought it was so terrible! And of course he's terrible! He was three years old! The charm of the video is that he sang it so terribly!

What a fine "good morning" that was!

Through His Sister's Eyes

I've always dreamed that my children would be lifelong friends/buds/pals. Looking out for one another...having each other's backs. My budding artiste chose Jacob as her subject matter. It was sweet of her to express how she feels about him through art.

Hang Ten

Manny (of Tudiabetes...like I need to tell you who he is) sent out an email asking parents to let their kids speak out about having diabetes by printing a word on their hand that describes how they feel about having it.

After Brendon came home from school today, I asked him if he wanted to participate and he said yes!

He offered up the word: annoying.

Yes diabetes can be quite annoying, I thought to myself.

But, Brendon's reasoning came from a different place.

As much as it is wonderful for kids at school to be curious about his diabetes and lobbing questions at him about what it's like to have it as well as about his pump, he gets annoyed with having to answer them all the time.

I agreed that it's annoying to have to answer the same kinds of questions all the time like that, and I suggested a plan to help with it. He wanted to ask his school nurse about it, so we'll see how it goes. I'll post about it if it ever comes about.

Later on, I really wanted to know...what does it FEEL like for him. I needed profundity from him because diabetes is a deep, emotional thing and being that I often want to crawl into his head and experience how HE'S doing with it emotionally, I encouraged him to share another word with me.

He shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. Nothing."

"You don't feel much about having it?"

"No. I just have it. I don't know."

And he continued flipping through a book he was reading.

He's had diabetes for the majority of his brief seven years of life. I've written about this before: Diabetes just is for him.

He's continuing to ride the wave, dude.

Life for him isn't about agonizing over having diabetes.

Life for him is all about wearing his Mets baseball cap and his Jets jersey all at the same time to school so that he, in his words, can break the power of the Red Sox and the Patriots.

This Is So Blogworthy It's Not Even Funny (Oh, But It Is)

Hanz and Franz (Jeff and his boss) were driving to lunch when Jeff started getting on his boss's case about blowing off going to the gym and eating crap after agreeing that he would resume their morning routine and get back to losing weight after taking the summer off (like yours truely).

Jeff's boss promised he's going to eat good again and offered Jeff....a PINKY SWEAR!! He made Jeff pinky swear with him!!

OMFG was I ACTUALLY LAUGHING OUT LOUD (I had to spell it out to emphasize how hard I was laughing) when Jeff told me this.

He said it happened a while ago, but he was too embarassed to tell me about it.

You have to understand the man that Jeff's boss is. He's badass. He shaves his head bald, he's got a don't fuck with me attitude. Even though he gets his eyebrows waxed, he is totally bad.

He grew up in the slummy 'burbs of Boston and has been in fights with men who were packing guns. He's seen it all and been through it all.

Yet he made Jeff pinky swear with him. I can't take it.

I Snurf

Comcast has a commercial where a husband is snurfing while on the phone with his wife.

Snurf means to surf the web unbeknowgst to the person you're on the phone with at the time.

I do it pretty often when I talk to Jeff.

He typically calls me in the morning during the time I spend on the computer reading blogs, checking emails, etc.

I figure, if I pay attention to key words and phrases, then I can get the jist of the conversation and be able to reply accordingly.

A conversation might go something like this:

Jeff (sounding like Charlie Brown's teacher): Whan whan whan whan store whan whan whan home whan whan whan whan. OK?

Me: M-hm. OK.

Jeff: whan whan whan whan. Whan whan whan. Whan whan whan go to the store.

Me (snapped out of my internet surfing trance): Oh, don't go to the store on the way home because I picked up what we needed.

Jeff: Did you hear what I said?

Me: Yes. Why?

Jeff: I just said I'd be home early so that you could go to the store.

Me: Oh. Uh. Well, I already went.....so....yeah.

Jeff: You were on the internet, weren't you.

Superman, Batman, Dark Lazer, and Kerri's Mom

Today we went to a JDRF walk on behalf of the Six Until Me team.

I got to meet Kerri's mom which I've been waiting for a long time to do. I read her comments and her guest posts and have heard stories from Kerri (always good ones, Kerri's mom). She's youthful, energetic (taking Jacob's football tackles like a champ) and is very funny.

Nicole was a part of the group as well as Chris, some of Kerri's extended family, and her friend, Batman. It's always good to see Nicole and Kerri as we never have a lull in the conversation and continually find ways to make each other laugh.

Lots of teams were abound and I began culling different design ideas from each t-shirt to come up with something special for Brendon next year.

I have to admit that over the past couple of years, I've lost my motivation to want to make a difference by raising money. When I failed to see response to my letters to contribute, I lost any hope to make a difference. But seeing children, babies, and Brendon getting tested time and time again throughout the 3 mile walk gave me renewed energy to keep going the distance and keep doing our little part to make a difference.

As we were all walking, I don't recall what tipped me off, but half a bottle of water dumped out into my handbag where I had all sorts of diabetes supplies, my cell phone, wallet and Jeff's wallet.

Now my cell phone is on the fritz...aka broke down. Our wallets are sunning away, but thankfully Brendon's meter keeps on ticking.

Also, Jacob dropped two of his cookies on the pavement, quickly picked them up and blew the dirt off. Two women witnessed this and started laughing. I kiddingly told them they didn't see that as I let Jacob eat them. Hey, at least he picked them up within 5 seconds. And they weren't really dirty......

Throughout the walk, Brendon complained he was hot, tired, low, his legs hurt, when is this walk over, where are we going, etc, etc.

But when he caught sight of Kerri and Chris' niece ahead of us, he asked, "Mom, can I run up ahead?" I said yes and marveled at the sudden "hustle" he found when there was a girl to show off in front of as he cradled his beloved football and took the stride of an athlete.

After the walk, we all found a shady spot under a big oak tree where we ate our lunch. And where Superman repeatedly said:
Chris
Chris
Chris
Chris
Chris
"Chris, Brendon is trying to tell you something", said Kerri.
Chris turns his attention to Brendon.
"Do you want to play football with me and my dad?"
"Yeah, sure!"

So while the gang played a game of catch and a bit of touch football, Batman, with pretty, pointed toes, performed cartwheels for Jessica.

Jacob was excited to have seen "Dark Lazer" along with Bobo Fett, and some other Star Wars characters.

It was a beautiful day, walking with some of the nicest, most fun people.

In The Weeds

I'm flipping through my new issue of Self magazine when I come to the first article about Elizabeth Perkins of the TV show, Weeds (as well as the movie, "Big", with Tom Hanks).

She talked about having all sorts of symptoms for years, but when she'd see doctors about the symptoms they'd tell her nothing is wrong, it's all in her head, here's a prescription for Paxil.

At yet another procedure, a nurse took her blood and came running back telling the doctor that her glucose reading was a 690.

She was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes.

She's in her mid 40's which I believe is why doctors didn't focus on the possibility of her symptoms being a part of Type 1.

She asked why a high reading hadn't showed up before and she was told that any time her blood work was done, it was probably done first thing in the morning before she ate, so her blood sugars were in normal range over the years. She told the doctor that he was right, that she did always have blood work done first thing in the morning.

I think it's pretty scary that she had gone on for so long without doctors taking her seriously.

Autumn Smells Good

I feel like crap this morning. I have a headache which is threatening to migraine on me. My stomach hurts. I feel sluggish. My neck and upper back muscles are tight.

I'm not sick. I'm out of shape again and I'm eating garbage.

Jeff was working out with his boss at the gym this morning. The Boss asked Jeff if I was still working on my triathlon training. Jeff said no, not really. The Boss asked what tipped him off and Jeff said, "I saw a box of Twinkies with empty wrappers scattered on the bed the other day." (Note to self: Remember to throw out the evidence of gluttony and bury it deep in the trash can before husband finds it.)

Recently (a couple of days ago), I ate a whole box of Twinkies in two days. This morning, along with a big cup of coffee and 2 scrambled eggs, I had a honking piece of chocolatey chocolate cake that I baked for Jessica's birthday yesterday.

I've always felt my best when I eat food that is as close to nature as possible. I have spring in my step, I don't get migraines, I don't mind doing chores around the house, I want to take the kids out and play, I scrap the sweatpants and t-shirts in order to wear nicer (but still casual) clothes, I put makeup on, I want to go to the gym.

As opposed to now where I'm wearing sweatpants and a stained t-shirt, no makeup, no shower, my hair up in a clip.

About a month ago I talked myself into losing weight and thought I had the mindset. I did lousy from the start. I'd eat like crap and say, "Tomorrow I'll DEFINITELY start the day with oatmeal." And then I'd eat leftovers from Applebee's instead.

Autumn is my favorite season and this year the trees are phenomenally vibrant with rich reds and golds and oranges.

But I can't enjoy it because I have to lay down so that my headache doesn't turn into a puke inducing migraine like the one I had last Friday.

I have a new challenge on my agenda that I don't plan to carry out until 2009 since it needs some major training to accomplish.

Lunchtime is when I'll start eating healthy again and put a workout plan in place.

Nothing like feeling crappy to kickstart a healthy lifestyle.

Happy Birthday Miss Six Year Old Jessica

She's a broad:
"Is that boy who said goodbye to you your boyfriend?"
"No way. He tried to kiss me in preschool and I told him to get lost."

She's lyrical:
Strumming a guitar while singing "Before He Cheats" by Carrie Underwood.

She's girlie:
She loves to wear costume jewelry and princess dresses.

She's a wildcat:
She'll jump on Brendon's back in her pearls and princess dress clutching onto him as he tries to buck her off like a rodeo bull and screams for me to get her off of him.

She's brave:
"Mom, is the Easter Bunny real?"
"Yes he is."
"Is it just some guy dressed up in a costume?"
"No, he's really a rabbit."
"Mom, you can whisper in my ear and tell me he's not real. I promise I won't cry."

She's affectionate:
She gives me a kiss and hug when she wakes up, every 10 minutes during the day, and at night when I tuck her into bed.

She's inquisitive:
"Mom, when you got boobs, were you afraid of them?"

She's athletic:
She's in constant motion doing cartwheels, handstands, jumping off of the highest piece of furniture.

Most of all:
She's my little baby girl who I imagine backpacking her way around the world and back again 20 years from now using all of her wonderful qualities to make her way through.

What's For Dinner?

Jessica comes to me and asks:

"Can we have a nose quiz?"

"A what?"

"A nose quiz."

"What did you say?"

"Nose quiz."

"A nose quiz?"

"Yes."

"What's a nose quiz?"

"The place that makes sandwiches."

"You mean, Quiznos?"

"Yeah, Quiznos."

Hookah Like A Hipster

The fam and I headed to Jersey for the weekend, and every chance we get, Jeff and I latch onto my brother and his fianceé and make them take us to the city.

They live on the Lower East Side in an awesome, tiny studio apartment with a rooftop view of the Empire State Building. For some reason I felt very Carrie Bradshaw when I was shown the rooftop view.

The Lower East Side is swarming with hipsters. Hipsters fascinate me for some reason. They're all about indie, and casual, and vintage (don't let them fool you...they shop at Urban Outfitters), and they like to text message each other.

My bro and his girl wanted to show us a good time, so that night they brought us to a bar that served original drinks that the bartenders made up themselves. I ordered an unoriginal Mojito so I could fit in and be ironic with the other hipsters.

There were cramped four seats available, so the hipster bartender said there were additional seating in the basement. We made our way down and saw more hipsters hovering over a laptop checking out a website and sipping Stella and/or bottled water.

For some reason, the bartender in the basement didn't serve the original drinks. We made our way up to the cramped four seats and got comfortable. Then, we text messaged each other (j/k).

My brother was telling us about the hookah lounges popping up everywhere. After we finished our drinks, and I was trying not to laugh at some hipsters wearing plaid Fedoras (like the kind Bing Crosby wore), we hit the lounge.

The first lounge we walked into, hipsters were dancing to Michael Jackson's Beat It. And so we beat it to another lounge.

It was very communal. It's decorated all Middle Eastern with hipsters everywhere sharing some casual conversation and smoking the hookah.

We ordered the apple flavored smoke stuff and hit the hookah while we watched the Red Sox get SPANKED (ha!).

I drank some Turkish coffee (because they only serve Stella and water...and turkish coffee) and took a couple of puffs on the hookah. I was getting confused with the proper way to huff this hookah (you sort of puff it the way you would a pipe) with the way you huff the kind with the wacky weed in it. The only high I was getting was from holding my breath when I took a drag.

There was no high to be gotten from that hookah. Grrr....

That was my adventurous night in the city.

The Code Breaker

I see Brendon's glucose readings as codes to be broken. What do they mean? What is the message?

He'll begin to have a series of readings like these in a day (and similar readings for weeks):

77 - 74 - 113 - 93 - 281

I wonder why his body is giving us awesome numbers like that. So I analyze and ponder and analyze some more and come up with the break in code: Change in season to Autumn.

Then I'm thrown numbers like these from today (and similar numbers from the previous couple of days):

67 - 349 - 332 - 215 - 99 - 321

What does it all mean? What is this about? What are these numbers saying? I begin analyzing and come up with a possible break. So I ask Brendon if he feels sick. He answers no. So I decide to go with another break: Growth spurt.

Or try these numbers:

47 - 262 - 109 - 260 - 57 - 165

One glance tells me: Don't know what the fuck THAT one's about.

I'm always wondering what is happening with his body to cause these numbers. People are curious by nature. Like wondering how the Earth came to be or how expansive the universe is. Whether I'm right or wrong about what the code means, it doesn't matter. It could be any number of reasons that I probably never knew existed. You can only keep track of a trend and adjust accordingly.

Sometimes there is a concrete reason for a series of numbers in a stagnant range. Perhaps a bad infusion set site, or bubbles in the tubing, or I forgot to dose him (it happens) thus throwing off his numbers for the day.

Always analyzing...and thinking...and wondering what that body of his is trying to tell me. Such is the life of a parent whose child has diabetes.

The Anatomy Of A Finger Poke

(As a funny side note, when I belonged to the Babycenter.com Diabetes Message Board, anytime we typed "finger prick", the board would scramble it so that it said "finger !%@$#" Prick was apparently a bad word, so we opted for finger poke. Oh well....I guess you had to be there.)

Tonight before we sat down to a nutritious, well rounded meal from McDonald's, Brendon performed a finger poke. He looked at me with panic in his eyes and told me he poked his finger and felt the lancet pierce his skin, but no blood was coming out.

"Does that mean I have no blood in my stream?"

Being the sensitive mom that I am, I started laughing at the question because, well, I'm juvenile that way.

I'm still trying to get on Brendon's good side for that one.

"I Get No Respect...No Repsect, I Tell Ya."

After reading some posts in the past and recently as well as dealing with my own experiences, I've always thought that Type 1 diabetes is the Rodney Dangerfield of childhood diseases, ailments, and other such health issues. It doesn't get the respect I feel it deserves from people we know. Now, there are some friends and many in my family who understand the dire consequences that Brendon lives with 24/7, thankfully. But, for the most part, Brendon's condition really doesn't get much respect at all.

No one really understands it, they see a healthy child running around doing everything any other child does, so how bad can it be?

They typically don't see the world we live in unless they catch me testing Brendon, or pulling out his pump to do a quick dose or cut back his basal to prevent a low. While seeing that, people don't understand what is being done, why it's being done, and what happens if I don't do it.

I take time to explain the whats and whys, especially when I'm ASKED ABOUT IT!! But the words of explaination fade from my vocal chords and I turn around to explain it to the wall, or stoop down to tell it to the grass and dandelion weeds because they don't get that glassy look in their eyes when I give the Kindergarten version of what Type 1 diabetes is. They stay to listen. They don't walk away either, as I've had happen time and time again.

Playgroups were notorious for disrespect:

"Oh, can Brendon have that cupcake? I know I should've asked before I gave it to him, but I couldn't resist holding it back while the other kids ate." Oh, it's OK, he'll just have kidney and organ failure due to the excessively high blood sugars if a situation like that is constantly repeated. Thanks for asking though!!

Or I'll ask: "Uh, do you have the packaging for the juice pouches the kids are drinking? I need to know the carb count so that I know how much insulin to dose Brendon for."
"Oh yes! I'm sorry, but the box is out in the trash can in the garage under the piles of dirty diapers. Sorry! I didn't realize." (said by someone who I asked time and time again at each playgroup and who never seemed to serve the same kind of juice twice.) And so I'd resort to the humiliating task of rooting through the diapers to get to the packaging and make note that "Michaela" ate A LOT of raisins that day.

I sat back and let the moms talk about "Suzie's" diaper rash everytime she ate grapes. And tried not to get the glassy eyed look when I had a mom talk to me for hours about how "Nancy" has to go to Children's Hospital too!! Why? So she can see a specialist about two eyelashes in her right eye that instead of growning outward, grow inward and have the fascinating abililty to grow INTO HER EYEBALL! Can she go blind if not treated? No. Well, so much for drama.

I nearly throttled a mom when she gave Brendon an apple to eat after getting fed up with an "argument" he and I were having about when he could eat it. I was explaining to him that he had to wait until we got home as he was still on Humalog and NPH and you know how it goes with the timing of meals. This mother took the apple out of my hand and said, "Oh, just let him eat the apple!!!" and proceeded to give it to him. I shot her some evil eyed laser beams that burned her ugly contorted face off. I turned on my heels and walked out with all three kids in tow. I was so angry I wasn't sure what I'd do if I received a glassy eyed stare if I told her why I was witholding the apple.

I got fed up one day when a mom named "Liz" was telling us all a story about how "Johnny" was allergic to yet another fruit and gets a rash around his mouth when he eats bananas. All of the "oohs", aahs", "tsks", and holding of "Liz's" hands and concerned pats on her back was almost too much for me to take. At this particular group, we had a potluck lunch. Each and every mom brought in the ingredient list and phone numbers for the manufacturers so that "Liz" could have every bit of info at her finger tips to see which potluck item had offending ingredients in it.

I had been going to this group weekly for a year and they KNEW I counted carbs. Did they include the nutrition charts? No.

So after hearing about the said banana rash around the mouth story, I piped up about Brendon's trip to the ER where he was first diagnosed.

I made sure that not a glassy eye was to be had by these mothers.

I immediately started with "If we hadn't brought Brendon to the ER when we did, he could've DIED either that night, or at the very best, he would've only held on 'til the next day."

You couldn't hear a pin drop. I hooked them. They were listening! They continued to listen about the trip to the ER, what happened in the ER, and the subsequent 7 day hospital stay. Not only that, but they listened, they really listened, to the whats, hows, and whys of what went into Brendon's care each and every day.

If I had to resort to appealing to their morbid curiosity to get Type 1 the respect it deserves, then dagnabit, that's what I did!

I needed to one up these mothers and I accomplished my task.

I FINALLY set up Type 1 diabetes to get the respect it deserved. Yes, I stooped low by making Brendon the center of a death trap story, but at least I didn't get that glassy eyed stare from anyone. And that's really all I could hope for.

I Hope You're Not Green With Envy

A few months ago, Brendon's Cozmo crapped out on him and we called about getting a new pump.

We thought we'd get the latest model, but we were told by Cozmo that we weren't getting it since the warranty ran out, so we had to settle for getting an old model (albeit a free, brand new, never been used one).

At the time, someone from the diabetes supply place where we order from called to talk about our warranty and Jeff told her what happened. She said since our 4 years was up, we should've gotten the latest model under a new warranty in addition to being able to keep the old model as a backup.

Well the diabetes shop finally called to tell us that we would be under a new warranty for the latest, brand new model which is currently being mailed to us.

It's green...Brendon's favorite color.

He's seven years old:

Because of his mother's family history of rampant heart disease, high blood pressure, and high cholesterol he:

Cannot have added salt
Must get yearly blood profiles to track his cholesterol levels (it's high for his age)
Must exercise regularly mainly through play to keep blood sugars down and cardiovascular system as healthy as possible.

We're monitoring his life as a senior citizen would because of his diabetes.

But on the other hand, he's thriving like mad.

He wears a size 10-12 in clothes.
He likes to wrestle with his friends.
He throws and catches with the steadiness of someone years beyond him.
He smart as a whip.
He has a temper like a whip too (I could group that with the senior citizen part since diabetes exacerbates it when he's low. That would make him a crotchety old man).

I don't know where I'm going with this post except to say that diabetes is such an odd character. On one hand, it can be debilitating and causes a person to be hyper vigilant about their health no matter what the age. But then if treated properly, it allows a person to thrive.

Just dumping some thoughts. Don't mind me.

Message To Dentists Everywhere:

Fillings and sharp metal objects don't mix. Putting them together hurts the toof nerves.

You Lint Licker!

The clip brought to mind the following where iceholes violated the fargin rights of Roman Moronie. I love how he wanted to crush their boils in a meat grinder:

I Have A Secret To Share

Whenever I write LOL, most of the time I'm not really laughing out loud.

Reasoning

Brendon has diabetes.
If Brendon gets tested, he gets a snack.
Ergo, if I have diabetes and then test myself, I will get a snack.

So goes Jacob's four year old reasoning.

When the kids are home all day with me like during the summer or holidays, they get snacks a couple of times a day. I limit the amount of times they get to eat. Sometimes (more like all goddamn day) they're extra hungry and want more. But I know they've had enough, so I put my foot down and say NO!

On the occasions when Brendon feels low he'll test himself, and if he's low, he gets a juice and a bit of something to eat.

Jacob absorbs that scenario and sees Brendon getting something extra.

Jacob: I wanna snack!
Me: No. You just had a snack.
Jacob: I have dia-BE-TEEZ!
Me: No you don't.

Jacob disappears for some odd minutes and returns with meter in hand:

Jacob: SEE!!
Me (reading number on meter which says "Er5" and then scooping up my melted heart from the floor): Jacob you don't have diabetes and you are not getting another snack, now cut it out!!!

He stomps off in a huff.

The same scene repeats itself either at some point later on in the day or I get a reprieve until the next day when he takes it upon himself to test again.

He was going strong in the morning.

He was petering out in the afternoon.

But a 404 before school's end and a fever finally beat the kid down.

Ingenious

Thank you, Naomi, for bringing this to my attention. I feel like chains have been broken and a whole new world has been opened up to me:

Twelve

Yesterday was our 12th wedding anniversary.

We celebrated baby-style by doing nothing more than sleeping and eating in our hotel room with an ocean view. And we watched tons of TV in addition to me reading loads of magazines.

And we had conversations that included dialogue like this:

Jeff: Ew. Did you fart?
Me: No, but I just burped up some salt and vinegar potato chips.
Jeff: Thank you. Thank you for sharing that with me.
Me (sniffing the air): Oh wait, I don't think that was me, hon. I think it's the low tide.

I believe we left the room twice. Actually, Jeff left three times...the third being the time he played hunter/gatherer and brought in a pizza.

It was definitely not as eventful as our stay in Martha's Vineyard last year.

But it was very relaxing and hit the spot nicely.