The "F" Word

At Kindergarten this year Skeeter learned lots of new things. Reading, writing, studying different kinds of animals...it was a very educational year!

Unfortunately, during his time in Kindergarten he also learned a new word on the playground. The word "fart." Like most little boys, he thinks saying "fart" is absolutely hilarious. He wouldn't even usually use it in a sentence like, "I farted." He would just yell "FART!" and then start laughing uncontrollably. This summer I finally had to put a ban on saying F-A-R-T. Using this word means an immediate spanking.

Last week we were at the grocery store when Skeeter said, "It smells like a fart in here." I reminded him that he can't say F-A-R-T and then popped him on the bottom. As we turned onto the next (very crowded) aisle he sighed and then loudly proclaimed, "I'm just so tired of getting in trouble for saying the "F" word all the time! I LIKE saying the "F" word!"

Other parents on the aisle whipped around and stared at me in complete horror. They didn't even want their children near me and my horrible parenting skills.

In shock, I started saying, "FART! He means fart! He's not allowed to say fart!" Because he heard me say fart 3 times, and rules are rules, he hopped off the front of the buggy and giggled while he gave me 3 hard spanks on the butt...all while the horrified parents continued to watch. 

There was really nothing to say after that. I couldn't even remember what we were on that aisle for anymore. I randomly threw pickles and peanut butter into my cart and jogged to the self check out in shame. We have since discussed that using "the "F" word" to describe fart is also not good. Now we just say "toot." Sigh.

My Big Beautiful Mess

I think it's a girl thing...some days I wake up feeling thin and fabulous, and other days I wake up feeling like a busted can of biscuits. This particular day was a biscuit day. Sleep deprived and feeling frumpy, my general outlook for the day was "meh."

After an hour of, "PLEASE put your shoes on!" and "Does anyone else smell poop? Who just pooped? Charlie, come let me sniff your butt." and "No, you can't have gummy bears for breakfast. Please stop whining." and "Ella just threw up down my back didn't she?" we were finally ready for our trip to Walmart. 

(an actual back puke photo...one of many)

After hauling the whole crew to Walmart I discovered that whoever designed shopping carts did not think about shopping with a 5 year old, a 1 year old, and a newborn. The five year old rode standing on the front of the cart (you know, the way all of the signs and warning labels on the cart tell you not to let your kid ride? Yeah, THAT way). Charlie rode in the kid seat, and Ella's infant carrier went down in the cart itself...but after loading the cart full of children I realized I didn't have any cart space left! There is only enough cart space for a half gallon of milk and a roll of toilet paper...thus defeating the entire purpose of coming to the store. I briefly considered being this lady...

But then I changed my mind. 

After that waste of a trip, I decided I deserved a pick-me-up. After all, we were all already out and dressed and still relatively clean! Time for a trip to Starbucks!

I pulled into Starbucks only to discover that the drive thru line was horrendous! 

(not actual photo)

Well, we'd come this far, may as well park and go in. I stepped through the door with a baby on one hip and an infant in a carrier (which somehow takes a 10 pound baby and makes it feel like 40 pounds) and a five year old begging non-stop for chocolate milk. I can't say for sure, but at this point I imagine I looked pretty haggard. As we stood in line I noticed a woman staring at us. I figured she was staring at my hair, which at this point looked like I'd brushed it with a Weed-Eater. Or maybe she was trying to figure out where that poopie smell was wafting from. Or maybe she was sitting there feeling grateful she didn't own a single shirt with spit-up stains. Feeling her eyes on me I looked at her and shrugged as I smiled and said, "I know, we're a mess!" 

She smiled the saddest smile and said, "But you have such a beautiful mess." Suddenly I realized she hadn't been staring at us thinking what a train wreck we were. She was staring because I was with three beautiful kids that I adore who, by God's grace, love me too. I could plainly see the longing in her eyes. She would have gladly traded her perfectly coiffed hair, and her unstained shirt, and her quiet cup of coffee for my mess. My loud, crazy, probably poopie, whiny, crumb covered, lovable mess. 

So on the "biscuit" days, when I have chewed up vanilla wafers wiped on my jeans and 3 day old milk puddled in the bottom of my purse, and kids crawling all over me as I try to work...

I remember that somewhere out there there are people who would gladly trade everything they have for this "mess." Somewhere there is a woman crying on her bathroom floor because she doesn't have any kids, and here I sit having just tucked in a five year old boy who tells me I am his "favorite lady in the world!" I have amazing parents who, at 60, are diving back into the crazy world of sleepless nights and  toddler parenting. I have a church family (and I do mean FAMILY) that constantly surrounds us with love and support (and clothes...and baby wipes...). 

Ecclesiastes says "For everything there is a season." This season is big, and messy, and beautiful. 

It's My One Year Anniversary!...of having Diabetes.

MARCH 13, 2013

"This is some serious jet lag" I thought as I sat, utterly exhausted, in my kitchen floor drinking a 2 liter of Diet Sprite straight from the bottle. I'd been home from Israel for 2 weeks, but the "jet lag" seemed to be getting worse, not better. Sometimes I was too tired to do ANYTHING after work. I would come home at 5pm and go straight to bed. And the THIRST was rediculous. I would drink an entire gallon of milk or a 2 liter Diet Sprite in one sitting. Then I had to tinkle...like, a LOT. The weight loss I attributed to the tinkling, because I probably walked 3 miles a day just on trips to the bathroom. The tinkling I attributed to the constant thirst, because I was drinking liquids all day and night. 

With a trip to Germany coming up in just 3 days, I figured I should go see my doctor to make sure I wasn't coming down with the flu or something. I had a fear I'd get to Germany and get sick and end up in a hospital being treated by a 400 pound nurse named Olga. 

After some blood work my doctor, Dr. Mayfield, came in and said the scariest word I'd ever heard, "Diabetes." The only diabetics I had ever known were my grandparents, who were both out of shape, overweight, unhealthy, and OLD Type 2 diabetics. I couldn't be diabetic! I was too young, too thin, too healthy! 

As it turned out, not only was I Diabetic, but I was currently in Diabetic Ketoacidosis (DKA). Diabetic Ketoacidosis is just a fancy name for a diabetic whose body has no insulin (in my case because I didn't know I was diabetic) and so the body has started to burn fat instead of using glucose and insulin. Upside? I'd lost 16 pounds! Downside? If not treated really quickly, it kills you. Total bummer. 

(Special shout out to Sarah Hurst and Dr. Stephanie Glenn...whose Match Day I attended while in DKA! True friendship.)

I got rushed to the ER to treat my DKA and, much to the chagrin of the ER doctors, I had several full-fledged, snot-slinging, sobbing to Jesus, panic attack-meltdowns. There they were trying to save my life, and there I was trying to convince them that I couldn't possibly have Type 1 Diabetes. 

 My mom stood in the hallway off and on the phone with my dad, trying not to let me see her cry. So my Aunt Janet held my hand in the ER as I lay sobbing. Over and over she repeated, "You CAN do this. This seems like the end of the world now, but this is just a speed bump. It is just a speed bump." I didn't believe her. I knew my life was over.

March 13, 2014

Fast forward one year. I am admitting it here folks, I WAS WRONG. As I was told that night in the ER, Diabetes did turn out to be just a "speed bump" on the road of life. After a brief adjustment period, having "The Beetus" became just another small part of my daily routine. I take a shower, I brush my teeth, I take some insulin. Bam, life moves on! In fact, the rest of 2013 turned out to be pretty great! I got my dream job working with kiddos. As it turned out, there are several kids in our children's ministry with Type 1 Diabetes. You know God is at work when you meet a first-time parent who is nervous about leaving their child with someone else because he or she is a T1D and there I am, bursting with knowledge and experience with The Beetus! 

Most people would be like, "Uh, okay. Diabetic? What should we do for that?" 

Whereas I'm like, "Oh! A T1? Me too! MDI's (multiple daily injections) or a pump? What kind of meter do you use? I've got glucose tabs in case you start to feel a little low. Now let's go play!" 

It's such a joy to use The Beetus for something like making a kid feel less alone, or making a mom and dad feel relaxed leaving their child in my care. 

So if you get diagnosed with Diabetes, or you know someone who does, allow me to share some wisdom and insight about Diabetes I have learned over the past year:

1. The worst day you'll have is Diagnosis Day. But I promise, it gets progressively better the further you get from the shock and trauma of "D Day."

2. You're life is NOT over. I know, I know, but it really isn't. 

3. Get a Dexcom. Not having to poke my finger all day long to test my blood sugar makes having The Beetus a lot less annoying. Plus, your Dexcom will tell you if you get too high or too low BEFORE there is an actual issue, so you can fix it, and move on!

4. Taking shots is NOT as horrible as it sounds. The first few weeks I was timid and nervous about every shot. It would take me 5 minutes just to mentally prepare myself. Now I shoot up while driving, while applying chapstick, while in rush-hour traffic. It ain't no thang! Plus, the insulin comes in pens you just dial up, and the needles are TEENY. 

Getting used to poking yourself is the worst part. Probably because God built people with a natural aversion to stabbing themselves...which was a really good call on his part. So it takes a few weeks before it feels "natural." You can do it! It gets easier and easier. 

5. When you first get diagnosed the learning curve is STEEP. You'll get there. You will be a pro before you know it. 

6. People are dumb. Non-Diabetics will try to offer "helpful" advice that will really just tick you off because, well, stupidity makes you mad. It's okay, love them anyway. They really are trying to help. 

7. Most days your blood sugar will be very well behaved. But sometimes, it will be nuts for no reason! Know that these days are rare, and that they aren't your fault. 

8. Don't listen to people who say stupid things like, "Oh Diabetes. You're gonna like, go blind and have to have your legs amputated right!?" Um, no. The people those horror stories are based on are people who don't take care of themselves or people who got Diabetes in the 1940's, 50's, and 60's when Diabetics had to boil and file their own needles before every shot, and they had no way to check their blood sugar, they just had to check for keytones in their tinkle and GUESS how high they were and how much insulin they needed. Want proof of progress? 

Here is the first insulin pump. It was invented in 1978:

And here is what an insulin pump looks like now:

(Hint, it's that tiny white thing on his arm)

The long-term complications of well controlled Diabetes is...drumroll please...NOTHING. 

9. While Diabetes stinks, it does have it's advantages. 

You have an excuse to eat candy (when you're low of course!). 

You're allowed to take snacks places where no one else can take food (Movie theaters, planes, school, you name it!). 

They make all things Diabetes-related SUPER CUTE now! All my Beetus gear is pink...and sparkly. 

10. Diabetes will never stop you from doing anything you want to do. I swim, I take Zumba, I spend hours at Altitude Trampoline Park with my friends, I play with kids all day, I eat birthday cake, and Diabetes never slows me down. Just a few weeks ago I watched Cross Country Skier, Kris Freeman, compete in four different events at the Sochi Olympics. All while rocking his insulin pump.

In summary, what I thought was the end of the world was just a really bad day. In future years when I talk about 2013, what I'll remember most is all of the good stuff. My life is great!...Beetus and all. 

Happy Hump Day

"SWEET HEAVENS! JUST PUT ON YOUR SHOES!!!"

The whining had begun as soon as he'd realized today was a school day. Suddenly, the every day tasks of getting ready became epic battles that Homer could have written about. I'm talking about the BASICS like: putting on pants...eating breakfast...combing hair...brushing teeth. Today each of these things were a drawn out fight.

Breakfast was the most epic battle of all. He insisted the only thing he would eat for breakfast was a red popsicle. I assured him the only thing he would be eating was eggs. It became a stalemate. He wouldn't eat his eggs, and with the clock ticking we finally compromised with a Pop Tart. While I don't think Pop Tarts have ANY nutritional value, they are at least technically a breakfast food.

Kid dressed, breakfast eaten, teeth brushed, we were finally making progress! Then came the shoe debacle. He couldn't decide which ones to wear. This seems like a normal dilemma, except that Skeeter's school has strict rules about what kinds of shoes they can wear. So he really only has 2 school shoe choices. Boots or tennis shoes. Boots. Tennis shoes. Boots. Tennis shoes. Boots. Tennis Shoes. HOW HARD CAN THIS DECISION REALLY BE!?

FINALLY, with tennis shoes on, we made it out to my lovely new car. 

(Sidenote: The Mustang Convertible got traded in for a more kiddo friendly vehicle. A new Ford Edge!) 

Already feeling flustered from the morning of drama, I open the back door to put Skeeter in and what do I discover? Chocolate milk ALL OVER MY NEW CAR. Apparently, Skeeter had left the lid off of a full bottle of chocolate milk which he had then left in the door, which he had then opened and closed a bunch of times...thus sloshing chocolate milk all over my door handle, down the door, into the carpet, and onto the seat...OF MY NEW CAR. Remember how it was literally freezing this morning? Yeah, it was not only spilled milk, it was spilled and FROZEN.

Utterly defeated, I put Skeeter in the car and off we went to school. Completely unfazed by the fact that he was sitting in frozen chocolate milk, Skeeter had a lovely ride to school listening to the Frozen soundtrack and discussing all the reasons I should take him to Build a Bear to buy roller skates for his bear, aptly named, Beary. 

You know you live in a first world country when you not only have a stuffed bear, but a stuffed bear with multiple outfits who apparently needs roller skates. 

After dropping Skeeter off at school, I found myself at the nearest gas station. Standing in the freezing cold, hunkered by a trash can, muttering to myself as I tried to remove the chocolate milk from my car. First with an ice scraper, then with paper towels.

After 10 minutes of this, with limited success, I realized that I must look like a complete creeper. What kind of weirdo comes to the gas station and doesn't get gas? Plus, I'm using an ice scraper on the INSIDE of my car, plus muttering to myself. Also, I'm pretty sure that by this time of the morning I probably had crazy eyes. 

That's pretty much the exact expression I had by the time I made it to work. Aaaaand happy Hump Day!

New Year's Resolutions

This is generally the day of the year where I promise myself I will lose 10 pounds, workout every day, and learn to love salad...But by noon on January 2nd I will have decided that 5 pounds is more realistic, 4 workouts a week fits more practically into my schedule, and I will have affirmed that I still hate lettuce.

This year, for the first time since I was probably 13 years old, my New Year's resolution DOESN'T involve dieting and hating myself. 2013 was a year of HUGE changes. I got The Beetus, made a huge career change to my dream job working with kids, and am helping raise 2 beautiful little boys. Suddenly, all of the countless hours I've spent over the years worrying that my jeans size was an 8 and not a 6 seems ridiculous.

So my goals for 2014 are:

I will talk less and listen more.
I will watch tv less, and read my Bible more.
I will complain less, and encourage more.
I will worry less, and hope more.
I will doubt less, and believe more.
I will frown less, and smile more.
I be less insecure, and trust myself more.
I will be less ungrateful, and will adopt an attitude of gratitude.
I will be healthy for health's sake, not to be thin.

I also made a list of New Year's Resolutions for Skeeter. Including:

Brush my teeth without complaining.
Go potty when my Aunt Tatie tells me to.
Listen more and talk less at school and in Sunday School.
Eat more vegetables without complaining.
Listen to my wise and beautiful Aunt Tatie when she tells me not to jump on the couch because I'll fall and bust my face:

Obviously that last resolution was one he had to learn the hard way. And yes, I am saving this photograph to be used in the future. "Remember LAST time you didn't listen to me?"

Cleanup on Aisle 1!

Since I consider myself a healthy eater, last week a friend asked me what should have been a simple question, "When was the last time you actually ate a vegetable? Not as part of some pre-packaged meal, just an actual fresh fruit or vegetable?" What should have been an easy question left me like...

Determined to change my ways, I hit Kroger early Saturday morning. Unfortunately, Annoying Veggie Guy was on duty. Annoying Veggie Guy works in the fruit and vegetable section. Every time I go into Kroger when he is on duty he immediately seeks me out and then follows me around trying to make casual conversation. However, there's really not much to discuss in the fruit and veggie section, so Annoying Veggie Guy quickly runs out of things to say and then he just hovers by the Slurpee machine and stares at me creepily while I shop.

Saturday, after I'd managed to lose Annoying Veggie Guy, I was feeling pretty smug about myself with my cart full of fruits and veggies. I felt like one of those "health food" people and was wandering around with my head held high. 

I rounded the corner and parked my cart in front of the organic section to get one last veggie. But as I reached up for a cucumber it bumped the onion sitting next to it. I caught the onion but it was too late...I suddenly found myself in the middle of a vegetable avalanche! 

Onions, cucumbers and sweet potatoes went everywhere! I was ankle deep in veggies and my buggy was completely surrounded. There was nowhere to run! Other shoppers had all stopped to stare at the catastrophe I'd created and I couldn't do anything but stand there mortified. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, from the corner of my eye I saw Annoying Veggie Guy sprinting towards me like Superman running towards a burning car. 

Now I was embarrassed by the vegetable avalanche I'd caused AND trapped by Annoying Veggie Guy. It took a good 5 minutes to clean up the vegetable spill, during which time Annoying Veggie Guy tried to talk to me about proper vegetable stacking techniques. As soon as the last onion was back in place I grabbed my cart, gave Annoying Veggie Guy a courtesy nod, and sped to the checkout like my life depended on it!

Aside from being easy to cook and delicious, prepackaged meals also never jump out of the freezer section and ruin your morning. 

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Saturday evening and early Sunday morning are usually my most stressful hours of the week. That is when my phone starts ringing off the hook with "Hey, I won't make it to teach Sunday school tomorrow" texts and calls. My mom, bless her, usually ends up stepping in to substitute every week. Last week, things got so desperate I had to call in...MY DAD.

I had been less than subtle when voicing my concerns about putting Big Jim in with a room full of toddlers, but I was desperate and I figured with my mom in there as well, things would be fine. Mom could teach the lesson and love the kids, while dad could stand by the door and use his "stern face" on any of the kids who might consider trying to escape.

30 minutes after parking my parents in a Sunday school room full of 3 year olds, I came back to check on them expecting to find the room looking like it was...well, a room full of 3 year olds. Typically during playtime the 3 year old room has toys strewn about, at least 2 kids running around with buckets on their heads, and Goldfish crackers being thrown like confetti. Instead, I found each child quietly seated at the table, eating their snack neatly, listening intently to my dad tell the Bible story while my mom refilled the snack cups. I stood at the door in awe and then my dad just turned around and smirked at me.

I came back at the end of class and asked the kids if they'd liked having Mr. Jim and Mrs. Pat as teachers. They said "Yes!" I said, "How many of you want to have Mr. Jim as a teacher again next week?" They nearly fell out of their chairs in their rush to raise their hands. WHAAAAT. MIND BLOWN.