So for those of you who have children, or for those of you who just happend to see the movie, "Finding Nemo", the following might ring a bell...
There is a scene (there may be more than one, it's been awhile since I've seen the movie), where Albert Brooks, who plays Nemo's dad, tells his young son, "You think you can do these things, Nemo, but you can't..." and one of the major points of the movie, is that, yes, in fact, Dad, your son (and all of us) are capable of much more than what others impose on us.
Fine.
Brian and I have had to change the line slightly for our children, who seem to constantly tell us that they can't do something, to the following:
"You think you can't do these things, Nemo, but you can."
Today Emma came home from school with a sore finger...it seems she was trying to catch a basketball today, and the finger in question (third finger, right hand) got hit and is slightly swollen...there is only slight bruising, no bones poking through the skin and she can still bend the finger (slowly, but she can do it), which means that there are no broken bones...
However.
This is the same kind of injury that she sustained about a year ago...an injury that sent us to CHEO (that would be Children's Hospital of Eastern Ontario for those of you who are not familiar with the place)...she had an xray, and as I suspected, there were no broken bones...and so today when she came home and told me about what had happened to her finger, I checked to make sure we didn't need to go to the emergency room again (I am not one of those parents who call the doctor and/or head to a clinic or emergency room for every little thing)...we didn't/don't.
Emma, however, is unimpressed with my lack of hand-wringing and screaming, "What happened to my baby?" kind of drama and tried to tell me that there was no way she'd be able to do her homework because she can't hold a pen...
"Sure you can," I told her, picking up a pen. "Look, you can hold it this way," sticking out my ring finger and showing her that while it might be awkward, there is definitely nothing to prevent her from completing her homework.
She stared disappointedly at me for a second and then walked away saying, "Please excuse me while I go pout for a minute."
I think she'll be fine...
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Friday, September 20, 2013
Inside the Mind of a Child...
"Mama, are you going to sell me for child labour?"
So asked Emma this afternoon, after she came home from school...
"Wh-a-a-t?" I replied.
"We learned about child labour in school today and I want to know if you're going to sell me so I become a slave and a child labour," she said. (Pretty sure she meant labourer, but the kid's 9, she still mispronounces things - hell, I'm 45 and I still screw up occasionally)
"No, Emma," I assured her. "I am not going to sell you into child slavery."
She seemed relieved as she threw her arms around my neck and held on for dear life...
And then there's Ian, who refuses to use a calculator for grade 8 math, because, as he told his teacher, "It's cheating!"
She tried to assure him that she was letting everyone else in the class use one, but it took me, Brian and Miss Kelly to convince him that trying to figure out the square root of numbers like 8.97654 is not exactly easy to do in your head...
The ideas that children get really do boggle the mind some days...
So asked Emma this afternoon, after she came home from school...
"Wh-a-a-t?" I replied.
"We learned about child labour in school today and I want to know if you're going to sell me so I become a slave and a child labour," she said. (Pretty sure she meant labourer, but the kid's 9, she still mispronounces things - hell, I'm 45 and I still screw up occasionally)
"No, Emma," I assured her. "I am not going to sell you into child slavery."
She seemed relieved as she threw her arms around my neck and held on for dear life...
And then there's Ian, who refuses to use a calculator for grade 8 math, because, as he told his teacher, "It's cheating!"
She tried to assure him that she was letting everyone else in the class use one, but it took me, Brian and Miss Kelly to convince him that trying to figure out the square root of numbers like 8.97654 is not exactly easy to do in your head...
The ideas that children get really do boggle the mind some days...
Thursday, September 19, 2013
You vs Me vs You vs Me vs...
I'm having a debate...well, not really sure you can call it a "debate", but rather, a discussion, over on Facebook with a young friend of mine...now, she might take exception to being called "young", since to my children she's ancient (and she is married and has a baby), but she is young enough to be my daughter (and in actual fact, I am older than her mother-gulp!), but she is a beautiful young woman who raised an interesting point late last night...she (who shall remain nameless, until or unless she tells me I can use her name) updated her status to read (I'm paraphrasing here) that she is sick and tired of seeing ad campaigns for "real women" as though those women who happen to be without muffin tops are somehow seen as being less real...
Hang on a second here, I thought...I've watched (and been tormented by) image after image of those celebrities who are lauded if they lose weight and are thrown under a bus if they gain even five pounds...are you calling me fat and lazy? 'Cause I can assure you missy that I am not! I work really hard and still will never look like Halle Berry! I...
Whoa, dragon...how 'bout you step back a second Lilley and breathe for a minute?
Now, my friend will interpret those ads based on her own life experiences, and I will judge them based on mine...and the thing is that neither of us should have to feel tormented by them...when are women going to get it together long enough to realize that we are all beautiful? That we all deserve to be loved, no, make that adored, no matter what we look like?
I understand and appreciate how some advertisers are finally getting on board with trying to show a realistic view of women's bodies...or more specifically, that most women do not bounce back three weeks after giving birth, despite the vast number of Hollywood starlets who seem to do just that. (I knew a young mother, about 7 years ago, who did in fact look like she'd never been pregnant when she was two weeks postpartum-she chalked it up to genes inherited from her Polish grandmother)
I know that after each of my pregnancies, I was more than a little shocked to discover that despite everything I had been told, breastfeeding did not mean that the pounds simply melted off me...by the time the twins were born, you'd think I'd have learned/remembered, but no, somehow, it still came as a surprise...
The problem with these ads is that they still end up pitting woman against woman in the never-ending debate of who has suffered more in this no-win argument...and that is the really sad part of all of this...because if we, as women, can't stand together to tell the media and advertisers and Hollywood producers to go take a flying leap because we are all beautiful, when will it end?
Hang on a second here, I thought...I've watched (and been tormented by) image after image of those celebrities who are lauded if they lose weight and are thrown under a bus if they gain even five pounds...are you calling me fat and lazy? 'Cause I can assure you missy that I am not! I work really hard and still will never look like Halle Berry! I...
Whoa, dragon...how 'bout you step back a second Lilley and breathe for a minute?
Now, my friend will interpret those ads based on her own life experiences, and I will judge them based on mine...and the thing is that neither of us should have to feel tormented by them...when are women going to get it together long enough to realize that we are all beautiful? That we all deserve to be loved, no, make that adored, no matter what we look like?
I understand and appreciate how some advertisers are finally getting on board with trying to show a realistic view of women's bodies...or more specifically, that most women do not bounce back three weeks after giving birth, despite the vast number of Hollywood starlets who seem to do just that. (I knew a young mother, about 7 years ago, who did in fact look like she'd never been pregnant when she was two weeks postpartum-she chalked it up to genes inherited from her Polish grandmother)
I know that after each of my pregnancies, I was more than a little shocked to discover that despite everything I had been told, breastfeeding did not mean that the pounds simply melted off me...by the time the twins were born, you'd think I'd have learned/remembered, but no, somehow, it still came as a surprise...
The problem with these ads is that they still end up pitting woman against woman in the never-ending debate of who has suffered more in this no-win argument...and that is the really sad part of all of this...because if we, as women, can't stand together to tell the media and advertisers and Hollywood producers to go take a flying leap because we are all beautiful, when will it end?
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
The Plague Has Left the Building...I Hope...
So we've spent the last week, diligently checking (and re-checking) hair at the Lilley household...and so far, we seem to be bug free...which is good, because the sheer amount of extra work that went into getting rid of this plague boggles the mind...
Well, my mind anyway...
As usual, there is always something else going on around here...and in this case, it's Emma...who has developed an ear infection...well, not quite an ear infection, but an infection in the hole where her earring goes...her response to this news?
"Why do bad things always happen to me?" (Add appropriate loud wailing and gnashing of teeth)...
On the upside, that kid heals faster than anyone I've ever met...within two days, the swelling, redness and pus has disappeared and her ear looks completely normal...
She is currently singing (in her deep, husky voice - which I love, by the way...very Kim Carnes circa 1981) along to Selena Gomez...who is not my favourite chanteuse-du-jour, but I can't fault the song Em's listening to...the chorus says, "Who says you're not perfect? Who says you're not beautiful?"...not a bad message in this day and age...
And then there is Jamie, who is currently on the deck in the back yard practising his "spit takes"...why?
Because he can, I suppose...
Avery, the so-called quietest of the bunch, spent several minutes screaming at her sister for playing music while Avery was trying to do her math homework...and then disappeared in a huff to the dining room, where she is now trying to finish her multiplication questions...
And Ian is wrapped up in his computer game ...
So essentially, life has returned to normal around here...
Well, my mind anyway...
As usual, there is always something else going on around here...and in this case, it's Emma...who has developed an ear infection...well, not quite an ear infection, but an infection in the hole where her earring goes...her response to this news?
"Why do bad things always happen to me?" (Add appropriate loud wailing and gnashing of teeth)...
On the upside, that kid heals faster than anyone I've ever met...within two days, the swelling, redness and pus has disappeared and her ear looks completely normal...
She is currently singing (in her deep, husky voice - which I love, by the way...very Kim Carnes circa 1981) along to Selena Gomez...who is not my favourite chanteuse-du-jour, but I can't fault the song Em's listening to...the chorus says, "Who says you're not perfect? Who says you're not beautiful?"...not a bad message in this day and age...
And then there is Jamie, who is currently on the deck in the back yard practising his "spit takes"...why?
Because he can, I suppose...
Avery, the so-called quietest of the bunch, spent several minutes screaming at her sister for playing music while Avery was trying to do her math homework...and then disappeared in a huff to the dining room, where she is now trying to finish her multiplication questions...
And Ian is wrapped up in his computer game ...
So essentially, life has returned to normal around here...
Friday, September 13, 2013
Maybe We Should Just Go To Mexico...
Braces cost how much??
Ratsulfratsulfrikakra...to quote (somewhat) Yosemite Sam...
Took Ian for a consultation today to figure out if there really is an issue in his mouth...
There is...
And it's gonna cost a whole heck of a lotta dough to fix the problems...
Plural.
As in, more than one problem.
As in 36 months of fixing (most likely)...
I called Brian to tell him the news...
"Are you sitting down?" I asked.
"Um, yeah," he replied. "How much?"
When I told him what it was going to cost, there was a silence on the other end of the phone for a couple of seconds.
"Maybe we should just take him to Mexico to get it done," my children's doting dad suggested.
I laughed.
"I'm only half-joking," Brian continued. "I know a guy who had to get $40,000 worth of work done and he booked a flight to Mexico, and only paid $4000."
What buddy neglected to mention is that he is now capable of getting 150 Sirius radio stations through his molars...
And then to top off this week of lice and braces, Avery came home early from school (all heads that were previously buggy are still running clear through the Robi-Comb-I love that thing!) because at her group table of six, four kids (including her) all started to feel like throwing up...
Ah, the joys of parenthood...
Ratsulfratsulfrikakra...to quote (somewhat) Yosemite Sam...
Took Ian for a consultation today to figure out if there really is an issue in his mouth...
There is...
And it's gonna cost a whole heck of a lotta dough to fix the problems...
Plural.
As in, more than one problem.
As in 36 months of fixing (most likely)...
I called Brian to tell him the news...
"Are you sitting down?" I asked.
"Um, yeah," he replied. "How much?"
When I told him what it was going to cost, there was a silence on the other end of the phone for a couple of seconds.
"Maybe we should just take him to Mexico to get it done," my children's doting dad suggested.
I laughed.
"I'm only half-joking," Brian continued. "I know a guy who had to get $40,000 worth of work done and he booked a flight to Mexico, and only paid $4000."
What buddy neglected to mention is that he is now capable of getting 150 Sirius radio stations through his molars...
And then to top off this week of lice and braces, Avery came home early from school (all heads that were previously buggy are still running clear through the Robi-Comb-I love that thing!) because at her group table of six, four kids (including her) all started to feel like throwing up...
Ah, the joys of parenthood...
Thursday, September 12, 2013
They're He-e-e-re...
"Mama, I found two bugs in my hair today at school."
So said Avery Tuesday night as we ate dinner.
Five chairs simultaneously pushed back from the table, staring in shock and horror.
"Ewww!" yelled Ian, Jamie and Emma.
Brian and I stared at each other, at Avery, then back at each other.
"Well," I said slowly. "I'll take a look after dinner."
And promptly began scratching my own head...
Shortly afterwards, Avery stood in our bathroom, while I picked through her hair. I pulled two flat, long, oval-ish bugs out of her hair and dropped them in the sink...
"Is that the same kind you pulled out of your hair this afternoon, honey?" I gently asked, trying to quell the shudders rippling over my body...
"Yep," she cheerily exclaimed. "They looked just like that!"
I stared at the creatures helplessly...
Was it lice? Some random bugs that had somehow made their way into my daughter's hair? (I had a sinking/sneaking suspicion that it was lice, but I kept hoping against hope I was wrong)
"I'll call Shelby!" I declared.
When Avery asked why, I told her it was because our friend Shelby has had to deal with lice many times over the last few years (she's the resident "go-to" expert in our old neighbourhood...got lice? See Shelby)
And so I called and asked Shelby to tell me what lice looks like...I described what had come out of Avery's head...
"I'll be right over," she told me...(pretty dang sure that's the equivalent of hearing "uh-oh" from your family doctor...never a good sign)
In less than ten minutes, Shelby was at our house, lice comb in hand.
Avery sat on a chair in the kitchen, while Shelby looked through her hair. "Hate to tell you this," she told me. "But she's infested."
Yay!
Brian stared in horror at his oldest daughter (briefly; he was trying to make sure she didn't feel bad about bringing the plague into our house), then grabbed his wallet and left to buy some brand of lice remover...
Meanwhile, back at home, Shelby was going through my hair...and after 45 years, I found out that I had my first case of head lice...
Not a happy camper, was I...
Brian came back with the Nix, I applied it to Avery's head (and then mine) and we went to bed...well, after stripping her bed, combing through her hair with a fine tooth comb, then setting her up in the spare room (wasn't going to vacuum her bed while Emma was trying to sleep), then combing through my own hair and setting Brian up on the couch ("What?" I said to him. "You don't want to sleep next to your lice infested wife?" "Um, no," he replied. Couldn't blame him, I didn't particularly want to sleep with me either).
The next morning, Avery was kept home from school so we could check her hair again (we had checked Ian, Emma, Jamie and Brian, but couldn't find anything on them)...she and I went over to Shelby's, who sat, with Avery on the floor in front of her, for nearly 5 hours, slowly going through Avery's hair, 20 strands at a time, looking for eggs...
"There! See that?" Shelby asked me, pointing to a strand of hair. "That's an egg, that's what we're trying to get out."
I stared and stared, trying to see what on earth she was pointing at. Finally, I saw it. A teeny, tiny little black speck...about a quarter the size of a poppy seed...
"How the hell is anyone supposed to see that?" I demanded. "That's stupid!"
(See how I reverted to grade 3?)
Which is why Shelby is the queen of lice removal...because she can see those little bastards, and people like me cannot...
Last night, we used a Robi-Comb (which zaps any bug and/or eggs/nit in the hair...kind of like one of those outdoor bug zappers, but for your head...it's a non-chemical way of killing them-and no, I don't want to think about bug guts being all over our hair, so keep those comments to yourself)...anyway, we used one on all of our heads, and found nothing on anyone, except Avery...even after everything, two of those little suckers had managed to survive!
And so we went old school...all four kids (and me) went to bed with our heads completely saturated with hair conditioner, then wrapped in plastic wrap, then a plastic bag tied around that (ok, I slept with a shower cap on, very sexy)...the kids all went downstairs to say goodnight to Brian and to show him their "pope hats"...towels on the (clean) pillow cases, and everyone was off to la-la-land...
This morning, I kept everyone home again, while I spent two hours going through five heads of hair (mine included...Brian has somehow managed to escape the whole bloody mess)...luckily, we seem to be egg and bug free...hopefully it stays that way...
Once that was done, every bed was stripped, every mattress was vacuumed (thank goodness for Dyson!), every piece of furniture suctioned three ways from Sunday and 16 loads of laundry started (had no idea how many freaking pillows this family used!)...
And the joy and bliss of it all is that I get to vacuum everything every day for the next two weeks like this! Yay! And we get to look for bugs in hair every day, and we get to retreat again on Tuesday! So lucky!
I need a beer...
So said Avery Tuesday night as we ate dinner.
Five chairs simultaneously pushed back from the table, staring in shock and horror.
"Ewww!" yelled Ian, Jamie and Emma.
Brian and I stared at each other, at Avery, then back at each other.
"Well," I said slowly. "I'll take a look after dinner."
And promptly began scratching my own head...
Shortly afterwards, Avery stood in our bathroom, while I picked through her hair. I pulled two flat, long, oval-ish bugs out of her hair and dropped them in the sink...
"Is that the same kind you pulled out of your hair this afternoon, honey?" I gently asked, trying to quell the shudders rippling over my body...
"Yep," she cheerily exclaimed. "They looked just like that!"
I stared at the creatures helplessly...
Was it lice? Some random bugs that had somehow made their way into my daughter's hair? (I had a sinking/sneaking suspicion that it was lice, but I kept hoping against hope I was wrong)
"I'll call Shelby!" I declared.
When Avery asked why, I told her it was because our friend Shelby has had to deal with lice many times over the last few years (she's the resident "go-to" expert in our old neighbourhood...got lice? See Shelby)
And so I called and asked Shelby to tell me what lice looks like...I described what had come out of Avery's head...
"I'll be right over," she told me...(pretty dang sure that's the equivalent of hearing "uh-oh" from your family doctor...never a good sign)
In less than ten minutes, Shelby was at our house, lice comb in hand.
Avery sat on a chair in the kitchen, while Shelby looked through her hair. "Hate to tell you this," she told me. "But she's infested."
Yay!
Brian stared in horror at his oldest daughter (briefly; he was trying to make sure she didn't feel bad about bringing the plague into our house), then grabbed his wallet and left to buy some brand of lice remover...
Meanwhile, back at home, Shelby was going through my hair...and after 45 years, I found out that I had my first case of head lice...
Not a happy camper, was I...
Brian came back with the Nix, I applied it to Avery's head (and then mine) and we went to bed...well, after stripping her bed, combing through her hair with a fine tooth comb, then setting her up in the spare room (wasn't going to vacuum her bed while Emma was trying to sleep), then combing through my own hair and setting Brian up on the couch ("What?" I said to him. "You don't want to sleep next to your lice infested wife?" "Um, no," he replied. Couldn't blame him, I didn't particularly want to sleep with me either).
The next morning, Avery was kept home from school so we could check her hair again (we had checked Ian, Emma, Jamie and Brian, but couldn't find anything on them)...she and I went over to Shelby's, who sat, with Avery on the floor in front of her, for nearly 5 hours, slowly going through Avery's hair, 20 strands at a time, looking for eggs...
"There! See that?" Shelby asked me, pointing to a strand of hair. "That's an egg, that's what we're trying to get out."
I stared and stared, trying to see what on earth she was pointing at. Finally, I saw it. A teeny, tiny little black speck...about a quarter the size of a poppy seed...
"How the hell is anyone supposed to see that?" I demanded. "That's stupid!"
(See how I reverted to grade 3?)
Which is why Shelby is the queen of lice removal...because she can see those little bastards, and people like me cannot...
Last night, we used a Robi-Comb (which zaps any bug and/or eggs/nit in the hair...kind of like one of those outdoor bug zappers, but for your head...it's a non-chemical way of killing them-and no, I don't want to think about bug guts being all over our hair, so keep those comments to yourself)...anyway, we used one on all of our heads, and found nothing on anyone, except Avery...even after everything, two of those little suckers had managed to survive!
And so we went old school...all four kids (and me) went to bed with our heads completely saturated with hair conditioner, then wrapped in plastic wrap, then a plastic bag tied around that (ok, I slept with a shower cap on, very sexy)...the kids all went downstairs to say goodnight to Brian and to show him their "pope hats"...towels on the (clean) pillow cases, and everyone was off to la-la-land...
This morning, I kept everyone home again, while I spent two hours going through five heads of hair (mine included...Brian has somehow managed to escape the whole bloody mess)...luckily, we seem to be egg and bug free...hopefully it stays that way...
Once that was done, every bed was stripped, every mattress was vacuumed (thank goodness for Dyson!), every piece of furniture suctioned three ways from Sunday and 16 loads of laundry started (had no idea how many freaking pillows this family used!)...
And the joy and bliss of it all is that I get to vacuum everything every day for the next two weeks like this! Yay! And we get to look for bugs in hair every day, and we get to retreat again on Tuesday! So lucky!
I need a beer...
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
"Ugh! I hate multiplication!"
So yelled Avery as she sat at the kitchen table to do her homework.
"I can't do this! It's too hard!"
This, after showing me the results of her math quiz...
The one where she got 34 out of 36 questions right...
"My teacher says we have to self-correct our homework. Can you do it for me? Please?"
When I told her no, she immediately whined, "But wh-h-h-y?"
"Because 'self-correct' means you are supposed to do it," I informed her.
So she sat, huffing and puffing, doing her homework. And when it was done, she flounced down to the basement where she (I'm assuming) flung her body onto one of the couches and continued to complain loudly to her brothers and sister that "multiplication is so stupid! It's not like I'm ever going to need it in real life!"
Ah, the innocence (ignorance?) of youth...
So yelled Avery as she sat at the kitchen table to do her homework.
"I can't do this! It's too hard!"
This, after showing me the results of her math quiz...
The one where she got 34 out of 36 questions right...
"My teacher says we have to self-correct our homework. Can you do it for me? Please?"
When I told her no, she immediately whined, "But wh-h-h-y?"
"Because 'self-correct' means you are supposed to do it," I informed her.
So she sat, huffing and puffing, doing her homework. And when it was done, she flounced down to the basement where she (I'm assuming) flung her body onto one of the couches and continued to complain loudly to her brothers and sister that "multiplication is so stupid! It's not like I'm ever going to need it in real life!"
Ah, the innocence (ignorance?) of youth...
Monday, September 9, 2013
Here's The Thing...
Here's the thing...
I am a liar.
I have written here about accepting who I am: my age (45 now), diabetes (since I was 11), celiac disease (3 1/2 years ago), Asperger's (my oldest), ADHD (3 of 4 children with a clinical diagnosis) and it's all crap.
At heart, I am neurotic and despondent when it comes to my weight and it affects nearly every single thing I do. I have two daughters who I try to teach to be strong and confident, and somewhere along the line, at least one of them has processed the information and has the kind of self-confidence and body image I wish I had. She believes she is beautiful inside and out (she is, but the fact that she claims that information as her own astounds me) and that anyone who doesn't think so is clearly not worth her time. (And she's only 11!)
I have spent decades trying to develop that kind of self-love and I am so far from it, I don't know if it is something I will ever achieve.
Why is all this coming out now?
Because I am a Type 1 diabetic.
A diabetic who has spent years sort of hovering along the lines of being in control of her blood sugar, but never really trying all that hard to control things (except when I was pregnant). Recently I read a book called, "Breakthrough - Banting, Best and the Race to Save Millions of Diabetics"...a book that has had a profound effect on how I view my life.
I've always known that I was pretty lucky to have been diagnosed when I was (1979), because like I said, I was 11 when I was told that life as I knew it was over forever. I knew that if I had developed diabetes 60 years earlier, I would have been dead fairly quickly. I've also always known that I'm pretty lucky to have had diabetes for so long without any major complications...oh sure, there was that period of time in the early 1990's, when I needed to have laser surgery to correct the leaking blood vessels in my eyes, and I had to start taking ACE inhibitors (don't ask me what it stands for, it's some medical acronym for some stupidly long name) to help protect my kidneys (but I stopped taking those when my husband and I decided to have children-that was in the spring of 1999-and I haven't taken them since)...but other than those interludes, I've been pretty blessed when it comes to diabetes.
And for the most part, I've never seen it as a curse...it's been a blessing...it's taught me to stop and take the time to actually be present in my life...to stop and (actually) smell the roses...I've been stopped dead in my tracks to stare breathlessly at a sunset, I've been overcome with emotion watching children (not even my own!) playing a game of tag and I've lost count of the number of times I have said "thank you" to God for all He has given me.
And then I read that damned book. And it made me want to try a wee bit harder to control my blood sugars so I could do my best to be around long after my grandchildren are (will be, at some point in the not-so-distant-future) born...
And you know what I found out? That the tighter your blood sugar control, the more f'ing weight you gain. I've put on five (!) pounds in the last week and a half!
I thought, maybe it's just me...obviously, I am eating way more than I should be, or I'm not exercising enough...and then I realized...wait a second, I've been keeping track on that app, I can go and see what I've been doing! And so I did...and I found out that nope, not eating more than usual, not exercising any less...the only difference is that I'm working my ass off, trying to control my blood sugar, which means I end up taking more insulin than I used to and suddenly I'm having to wear f'ing sweatpants all the time because my jeans are so uncomfortable!
So my choice is keep my blood sugar higher than it's supposed to be and fit into my clothes, or keep my blood sugar where it's supposed to be and get fatter and fatter...some choice.
This morning I went online...you know you all do it...google whatever issue it is you have and try to find out if you're normal...and yes, yes, I know...the interwebs are not exactly known for always having the best information out there...far too many of us self-diagnose whatever illness du jour is floating around in cyberspace and suddenly, our doctors are trying to talk us down off the ledge we've climbed out on to and let us know that, in fact, we are not dying from some weird skin condition that no one in North America has ever heard of...
But I digress...I went on, to try to find out if anyone else has had this problem of the sugars and the weight gain. And lo and behold, I found lots of people just like me. Only problem is, none of them seemed to have any kind of solution. Lots of bitching and whining (oh how I could relate!), but no concrete answers to the problem.
So I'm still stuck. Still trying to figure out what the hell I do to get myself into shape without compromising my blood sugar...still trying to figure out if I should just give up...and if I do, which one should it be?
And why the hell do I have to make that choice anyway?
Le sigh...
I am a liar.
I have written here about accepting who I am: my age (45 now), diabetes (since I was 11), celiac disease (3 1/2 years ago), Asperger's (my oldest), ADHD (3 of 4 children with a clinical diagnosis) and it's all crap.
At heart, I am neurotic and despondent when it comes to my weight and it affects nearly every single thing I do. I have two daughters who I try to teach to be strong and confident, and somewhere along the line, at least one of them has processed the information and has the kind of self-confidence and body image I wish I had. She believes she is beautiful inside and out (she is, but the fact that she claims that information as her own astounds me) and that anyone who doesn't think so is clearly not worth her time. (And she's only 11!)
I have spent decades trying to develop that kind of self-love and I am so far from it, I don't know if it is something I will ever achieve.
Why is all this coming out now?
Because I am a Type 1 diabetic.
A diabetic who has spent years sort of hovering along the lines of being in control of her blood sugar, but never really trying all that hard to control things (except when I was pregnant). Recently I read a book called, "Breakthrough - Banting, Best and the Race to Save Millions of Diabetics"...a book that has had a profound effect on how I view my life.
I've always known that I was pretty lucky to have been diagnosed when I was (1979), because like I said, I was 11 when I was told that life as I knew it was over forever. I knew that if I had developed diabetes 60 years earlier, I would have been dead fairly quickly. I've also always known that I'm pretty lucky to have had diabetes for so long without any major complications...oh sure, there was that period of time in the early 1990's, when I needed to have laser surgery to correct the leaking blood vessels in my eyes, and I had to start taking ACE inhibitors (don't ask me what it stands for, it's some medical acronym for some stupidly long name) to help protect my kidneys (but I stopped taking those when my husband and I decided to have children-that was in the spring of 1999-and I haven't taken them since)...but other than those interludes, I've been pretty blessed when it comes to diabetes.
And for the most part, I've never seen it as a curse...it's been a blessing...it's taught me to stop and take the time to actually be present in my life...to stop and (actually) smell the roses...I've been stopped dead in my tracks to stare breathlessly at a sunset, I've been overcome with emotion watching children (not even my own!) playing a game of tag and I've lost count of the number of times I have said "thank you" to God for all He has given me.
And then I read that damned book. And it made me want to try a wee bit harder to control my blood sugars so I could do my best to be around long after my grandchildren are (will be, at some point in the not-so-distant-future) born...
And you know what I found out? That the tighter your blood sugar control, the more f'ing weight you gain. I've put on five (!) pounds in the last week and a half!
I thought, maybe it's just me...obviously, I am eating way more than I should be, or I'm not exercising enough...and then I realized...wait a second, I've been keeping track on that app, I can go and see what I've been doing! And so I did...and I found out that nope, not eating more than usual, not exercising any less...the only difference is that I'm working my ass off, trying to control my blood sugar, which means I end up taking more insulin than I used to and suddenly I'm having to wear f'ing sweatpants all the time because my jeans are so uncomfortable!
So my choice is keep my blood sugar higher than it's supposed to be and fit into my clothes, or keep my blood sugar where it's supposed to be and get fatter and fatter...some choice.
This morning I went online...you know you all do it...google whatever issue it is you have and try to find out if you're normal...and yes, yes, I know...the interwebs are not exactly known for always having the best information out there...far too many of us self-diagnose whatever illness du jour is floating around in cyberspace and suddenly, our doctors are trying to talk us down off the ledge we've climbed out on to and let us know that, in fact, we are not dying from some weird skin condition that no one in North America has ever heard of...
But I digress...I went on, to try to find out if anyone else has had this problem of the sugars and the weight gain. And lo and behold, I found lots of people just like me. Only problem is, none of them seemed to have any kind of solution. Lots of bitching and whining (oh how I could relate!), but no concrete answers to the problem.
So I'm still stuck. Still trying to figure out what the hell I do to get myself into shape without compromising my blood sugar...still trying to figure out if I should just give up...and if I do, which one should it be?
And why the hell do I have to make that choice anyway?
Le sigh...
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