How The Kids Occupy Their Time During Summer Vacation

I interrupted their game of "baseball".

I Saw Him Cry For the First Time Tonight

The kids and I were watching TV tonight when I turned on dLife. It's the first time since we appeared on the show that Brendon had watched it.

He sat quietly, paying attention to all that was talked about. He asked me what Type 2 diabetes was and if there was a Type 3. I answered the best I could.

He said, "I wish I didn't have diabetes".

And then a clip came on about wondering what it would be like to not have diabetes anymore. A member of the show talked about the promises of a cure. Five years from now there will be one....ten years from now. What would life be like if he didn't have diabetes anymore.

I heard a small whimper and looked over at Brendon.

He was crying...wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. It was the first time I had ever seen him cry about diabetes. During the six years since being diagnosed, he's never cried about having it.

I asked if the show was upsetting him and he said no. I walked over and sat beside him on the couch, put my arm around his shoulders and let his head lean heavily against my arm. We sat for a little while as I turned the channel, landing on Nickelodeon. I asked again what was upsetting him and if he wanted to talk to me about it.

He said no.

So I turned my attention to what was being shown on TV and saw the middle of this commercial:



Brendon and I looked at each other and laughed.

EDIT: We tested Brendon an hour after the show aired. He was 25. He's been that low before and was completely normal and coherent then and now....which is the scariest thing in my opinion. He said, "Wow. I'm really low. Maybe that's why I was crying before." I said, "So nothing bothered you about the show?" "Naw. Nothing bothered me."

Kids These Days

Jacob (eating a handful of peanuts): Hey Mom! There's peanut butter in these peanuts!

Me: No. They mash up peanuts to make peanut butter.

Jacob: NoooOO! They put peanut butter in the peanuts. That's why they taste this way.

Me (mumbled under my breath): Whatever.

___________

It's first thing in the morning:

Brendon: Mom, I'm going down to the basement for a minute.

Me (smelling trouble): Why do you need to go down there?

Brendon: unintelligible.

Me: Why do you need to go down there?

Brendon: To loosen up my LEGS!

Me: What? On the elliptical?

Brendon: YES!

Me (in my head): OMG. He's turning into a 40 year old already.......

How Did You Found Me?

These are search terms people Googled that led them here:

• crazy ass mom
• kernel lodged in ear
• do lions eat their young
• strong poking finger
• mom son hot foot
• new hampshire driver suck
• when daddy sperm and mommy egg
• woman shitting her pants
• jessica smut came
• what do lions eat for kids

Where Do I Start?

Well, pictures are always fun to look at, so let's start with them!

Let me introduce you to my brother, Ian, and his lovely bride, Jen.

Ian is here with our grandmother who I've blogged about her experience in a Nazi prison camp.

Me and my handsome family. We were all in the wedding party.

Jessica with her flower girl attire and hairdo.

This is me and my sister. Notice what I'm holding? Yes, it's a Cosmopolitan....about my 5th. I'm wearing Brendon's tie. No, my sister is not talking me out having just one more Cosmo. She handed that to me. I couldn't sip and dance at the same time. It got messy.

Do you notice what is sitting on the table in front of Brendon that he never touched? He's just sitting there for a rest. Jeff said, "Brendon. Dessert is served. Don't you want some?" Brendon's reply "No, I don't want any. I just want to dance."

We had the firemen on standby. Brendon was burning up the dance floor with his fancy footwork.



My sister asked if we taught him how to dance by shooting as his feet with a shot gun...."Dance boy DANCE." Pow pow....powpow.

Jessica told me Aunt Jen had Brendon's moves. I couldn't stop laughing after she told me that.

The weekend was filled with laughter and tears. Laughter because of the stories told about my brother by his best man and tears because we missed our dad and were worried about him.

The food was awesome and so was the company we kept at our table. My brother sat Jeff, the kids, and me with a few other couples who had kids because he thought we'd have "fun" talking about our wee little ones. My brother has soooo much to learn. Luckily though, even though we didn't know these people, they were fun to talk to. We moms had several rounds of Cosmopolitans after the guy sitting next to me told me it would be a good drink to order. He was right!!

I danced the night away and did a Lemon Drop shot with all of the female guests and laughed my ass off the whole night, not because I was drunk, but because everyone is so funny. It's nice to have family and friends with awesome senses of humors (that last part sounded weird...pluralized like that).

Diabetes never escapes the equation:

My brother introduced me to his hockey buddy from college who wanted to tell me he saw me on Dlife when they aired a clip of me and my family for a little episode. He revealed his pump that was clearly clipped to his belt and said how nice it was to see the episode. He DVR's the show every now and then and got a kick out of catching us on it.

I asked how long he's had T1 and he told me he was diagnosed when we was 27. I told him it must've sent his mind reeling that he's got a whole new body and way of thinking to handle, and he said his dad had T1, but that he passed away. His dad thought his son was in the clear since his education on diabetes took him as far as thinking that once you're an adult, you can't get "juvenile" diabetes.

It was nice talking to him. I wished I could've talked to him some more.

After the wedding, we all gathered back at the hotel where some of us "young uns" went up to the 6th floor club room after I had a Corona at the hotel bar. Mind you, this is after several rounds of Cosmos and a shot. In the club room, I had another shot of some wicked-chest-hair-growing-suitable-for-wound-cleansing-cuz-it-smelled-like-rubbing-alcohol Russian vodka brought back from Russia by another one of my brother's hockey buddies.

The next morning, at around 7 a.m. I woke with a migraine and the exquisite craving to puke my guts out.

So I did just that and I took a shitload of Advil and went back to bed.

At 11:45 a.m. I woke to the sound of a text message being sent to my phone saying my dad was off of the heart-lung machine and was OK.

I shlepped down to the dining area of the hotel where a post-wedding breakfast was set up. I ate the greasiest bacon, sausage and eggs I could get my grubby paws on and chased it with some sweet ass coffee. Perfect hangover breakfast.

Everyone else looked so showered and refreshed.

I, on the otherhand, looked like I used to look during my college mornings after a rockin' frat party.

So uncomely of a wife and mother of three.

Where Do I Start?

Well, pictures are always fun to look at, so let's start with them!

Let me introduce you to my brother, Ian, and his lovely bride, Jen.

Ian is here with our grandmother who I've blogged about her experience in a Nazi prison camp.

Me and my handsome family. We were all in the wedding party.

Jessica with her flower girl attire and hairdo.

This is me and my sister. Notice what I'm holding? Yes, it's a Cosmopolitan....about my 5th. I'm wearing Brendon's tie. No, my sister is not talking me out having just one more Cosmo. She handed that to me. I couldn't sip and dance at the same time. It got messy.

Do you notice what is sitting on the table in front of Brendon that he never touched? He's just sitting there for a rest. Jeff said, "Brendon. Dessert is served. Don't you want some?" Brendon's reply "No, I don't want any. I just want to dance."

We had the firemen on standby. Brendon was burning up the dance floor with his fancy footwork.



My sister asked if we taught him how to dance by shooting as his feet with a shot gun...."Dance boy DANCE." Pow pow....powpow.

Jessica told me Aunt Jen had Brendon's moves. I couldn't stop laughing after she told me that.

The weekend was filled with laughter and tears. Laughter because of the stories told about my brother by his best man and tears because we missed our dad and were worried about him.

The food was awesome and so was the company we kept at our table. My brother sat Jeff, the kids, and me with a few other couples who had kids because he thought we'd have "fun" talking about our wee little ones. My brother has soooo much to learn. Luckily though, even though we didn't know these people, they were fun to talk to. We moms had several rounds of Cosmopolitans after the guy sitting next to me told me it would be a good drink to order. He was right!!

I danced the night away and did a Lemon Drop shot with all of the female guests and laughed my ass off the whole night, not because I was drunk, but because everyone is so funny. It's nice to have family and friends with awesome senses of humors (that last part sounded weird...pluralized like that).

Diabetes never escapes the equation:

My brother introduced me to his hockey buddy from college who wanted to tell me he saw me on Dlife when they aired a clip of me and my family for a little episode. He revealed his pump that was clearly clipped to his belt and said how nice it was to see the episode. He DVR's the show every now and then and got a kick out of catching us on it.

I asked how long he's had T1 and he told me he was diagnosed when we was 27. I told him it must've sent his mind reeling that he's got a whole new body and way of thinking to handle, and he said his dad had T1, but that he passed away. His dad thought his son was in the clear since his education on diabetes took him as far as thinking that once you're an adult, you can't get "juvenile" diabetes.

It was nice talking to him. I wished I could've talked to him some more.

After the wedding, we all gathered back at the hotel where some of us "young uns" went up to the 6th floor club room after I had a Corona at the hotel bar. Mind you, this is after several rounds of Cosmos and a shot. In the club room, I had another shot of some wicked-chest-hair-growing-suitable-for-wound-cleansing-cuz-it-smelled-like-rubbing-alcohol Russian vodka brought back from Russia by another one of my brother's hockey buddies.

The next morning, at around 7 a.m. I woke with a migraine and the exquisite craving to puke my guts out.

So I did just that and I took a shitload of Advil and went back to bed.

At 11:45 a.m. I woke to the sound of a text message being sent to my phone saying my dad was off of the heart-lung machine and was OK.

I shlepped down to the dining area of the hotel where a post-wedding breakfast was set up. I ate the greasiest bacon, sausage and eggs I could get my grubby paws on and chased it with some sweet ass coffee. Perfect hangover breakfast.

Everyone else looked so showered and refreshed.

I, on the otherhand, looked like I used to look during my college mornings after a rockin' frat party.

So uncomely of a wife and mother of three.

OMFG...It's Good To Be Back

Firstly, thank you thank you for all of the well wishes you all sent. It meant a lot to me. One of the many reasons why I love this blog community.

I plan to post a bit tomorrow about the wild wedding weekend....with pictures...and a special video.

My dad is great and will be home by Friday. It was scary to see him doped up on heavy drugs coming out of anesthesia and trying to read the air-writing he was doing with his finger because he still had a tube down his throat (my recollection from E.R. episodes is that he was still intibated), but by the next day, he was sitting in a chair talking and looking like he always does.

My brother's wedding weekend was fun and awesome and better than I could've imagined. I had my first hangover in years...not fun...but an indication of how tasty the Cosmopolitans were.

I'll take time to download the pics and videos we took tomorrow. I just walked through the door and needed my blog fix.

Wearing His Heart On His Sleeve

I called my dad a little while ago to see how he was doing and he told me he is staying in the hospital for another week.

"So, will they let you leave to come to the wedding and then go back in?"

"No. I, uh, need open heart surgery."

"What??"

And then I started bawling.

He and my stepmother explained that it's preventative because he'd keep having mini-heart attacks until he kicks the bucket (as my dad worded it).

So, on Monday, he'll be going in to have some of his veins stripped from his legs and place all around his heart to make up for the veins that are weakened. There are now 3 stents in his heart and those veins will all collapse someday, but instead of having a HA as a result, the new veins will make up for them and his heart will keep on ticking.

"Are you scared, Dad?"

"Nope. I'm not scared."

Once a Marine, always a Marine.

That And A Heart Attack Will Kill Ya

I got a call today from my stepmother saying my dad had a heart attack yesterday. It's his second one. His first occured when he was in his mid 40's. And now...about 12 years later...he was hammered with another.

He's overweight and doesn't exercise. He did quit smoking back when he had his first, so he's slightly ahead of the game.

I reamed out my stepmother by initially telling her when will it be the last time I get a call saying he had a heart attack. I said he has to lose weight and exercise. I hadn't said anything before because I knew that they knew what to do and that it's hard and that they didn't need me lecturing them. But, now that I'm getting a call about his second heart attack, I told her I can't sit back and not say anything anymore.

I told her she needs to lose weight too. They can go for walks. Pick a diet and stick with it. Just stick with it.

I know how hard it is because I'm trying too and it's a pain in the ass to lose weight. But I don't want the next phone call to be that either one of them has had a heart attack. I want it to be the last call because they've pulled their shit together and lost the weight. I don't want it to be the last call because they're dead.

My brother is getting married this Sunday. At least my father will be well enough to attend. The fucker.

Can You All Do Me A Favor?

Hey everyone! I have some news to share...just tidbits of stuff going on...all good. I'll get to that next week since I'm still up to my ears in getting things squared away with events I've mentioned in my previous post.

The favor I need from all of you is to read his story posted on Kate's blog. Kate is a fellow Type 1 mom and she interviewed her friend who has Type 1. Don't show pity, but take this lesson away with you:

No matter how much a person is broken down by the ones he loves the most and by those he knows the least, it takes a special person to overcome the cruelty of human nature and to create a life for himself that makes him happy.

No matter how awful his father was to him (and that is just the tip of the iceberg in his torturous experience as a teenager) he still sent his dad a Father's Day card only to have it returned to him unopened.

Children will always love their parents no matter how terribly they are treated by them. That to me is the most heartbreaking thing I could ever think of.

So, please, I think you owe it to yourselves to read his story. I came away with a more optimistic attitude toward those who are treated the worst and come out on top in spite of it.

Sayonara For A While

Every now and then, I need a break from blogging and the internets. It's so easy to get sucked in while searching and exploring, reading, playing Scrabulous, etc. etc. etc. and a bunch of other etc.'s.

I start my every morning with coffee and my list of blogs to read and the next thing you know, I'm behind on everything including a shower.....

While I'm gone I'm going to:

1. Lose about 5 pounds to fit into this dress that I will wear as a bridesmaid at my brother's wedding in 2 weeks: Click on the green swatch (Olivine)

2. See a doctor about prescribing something that helps with the blotchiness that I know will show up all over my chest and neck when I'm in any situation that raises my adrenaline level or when I drink alcohol...which I know will happen when I'm wearing that extremely exposing dress walking down the aisle....dancing to embarass my brother at the reception...etc. etc. etc.

3. I will read this book.

4. I will make another attempt at following Flylady (that pain in my ass (but oh so necessary) bitch) which requires a minute of internet time, but I will print the list each day rather than clicking on links and getting sucked in.

5. Watch my littlest one graduate from preschool.

6. Hope that at Brendon's appointment next week, his A1C is better than the last time (which wasn't bad, but still).

7. Try my damndest to not get sucked in by the internets!

8. Watch my little bro get married.

Show Me The Funny

A couple of side notes:
1. Brendon woke up at a 102 this morning after a basal adjustment and some slurps of juice at midnight to prevent a low.
2. I plan to vote for Obama for President.

Now, nothing puts me in a better mood than finding funny, well made videos on Youtube. I was fortunate to find a few. I present you with videos that are safe to watch in the work environment if your IT guys haven't set up blocks:

This first one would've come in "handy" for my birds and the bees talk with Brendon (if you have time, read the end of the post I linked to (starting with "How big is a vagina?") and you'll see why this video would've been a perfect accompaniment to my talk with him):



This next video has some of the best one-liners I've ever heard. And these child actors are geniouses!! Look out Brando and DeNiro:



Finally, you don't have to be a gamer to "get" this one. It is funny as hell. Simple as that:

Before He Sleeps

Last night at midnight, I checked Brendon and cursed the dark when I saw 38. I HATE seeing a low when he's sleeping. Rousing him from a deep sleep so that he can eat a cheese sandwich and slurp down a juice is a royal pain in the ass.

"Brendon...drink the juice", I say as I press the straw to his lips.

"C'mon, Bren. Drink the juice. You're low. You have to drink the juice."

Snarl, growl, swat me away with his little bear paw.

"Bren, eat the sandwich. SIGH.... C'mon. Take bigger bites. (Why do you have to take such tiny bites?, asked under my breath)."

Plus, I feel terrible that he can't sleep soundly and uninterrupted. There will be plenty of sleepless, interrupted nights when he's living on his own to deal with the nighttime lows alone....and when he has kids of his own (I don't think I've had a night of uninterrupted sleep in over 8 years!).

Tonight, before he sleeps, I need to treat a falling blood sugar. If I can get it now and keep it from falling, I'll be a happy camper when I check him tonight. I hope I can keep it from continuing this crazy nosedive he's currently experiencing.

At dinner time, around 6 o'clock, he was a 58 with .8 units on board. I gave him a juice box and let him eat dinner (an additional 24 carbs) without first dosing him as we usually do. I figured by the time he was finished eating, the carb load would hit him and he'd be OK enough to dose.

Whoops! About an hour later, I forgot to dose him. Checking again, his BS is at 96. Hmm. He'll probably rise even more, but I wanted to wait a bit longer.

He complained he was hungry and ate a few crackers. And then, not long after, I saw him sneaking more:

"How many crackers do you have there?"

"One, two, three, four.... I have six."

"Well, if you're going to sneak food, at least keep track of the carbs!"

I forget to check him to see where his number is. I expect it to be in the 200's when I finally remember again.

A little while ago, he was in the 70's.

"Did you dose yourself for the crackers?"

"No."

PLEASE don't let this be a sign of what late tonight has in store for me.

Dignity At Its Finest

The President bumping chests with an Air Force Academy graduate. Bush must've felt his crazy frat boy days come back to him.