Tag Archives: type 1 diabetes parent

When a Five Year Old Says “I Hate Diabetes”

“I hate diabetes” escaped the lips of my five year old son who doesn’t have that kind of language habit, yet, and who doesn’t really know the meaning of the word “hate”.  Hearing him say those three words set off a chain reaction of memories that started almost 21 years ago to the day when my youngest sister was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes at age three.  I remember having trouble going to sleep that night after my dad wearily explained that she had in incurable illness that would involve needles and bleeding (and so much more).  Before I fell asleep I remember whispering out loud, “I hate diabetes.”  Later that same year I wrote in my diary those very words with so much pressure from my pen the words permanently embedded into the next few pages.  Never one to pass up an opportunity for clarity, I dotted my exclamation points with my own 11 year old blood.

Since that year I have probably uttered “I hate diabetes” more than a million times-an estimate I don’t think is exaggerated.  I haven’t said or thought it much in the last few years because I want my mind filled with positive thoughts and my children to start life with a mental blank slate.  I want them to figure out how they feel about things versus feeling what I feel and thus carrying around a detrimental amount of my baggage.  It has served me well to remove those three words from my vocabulary.  I am much more equipped, emotionally speaking, to take care of myself.  And I do take care of myself.

Today, I was informing my children that tomorrow I will go to the eye doctor for a short visit.  My daughter said, “Ok, mom” while my son, seemingly alarmed, said, “Why? What’s wrong?”  I sat down and looked him in the eyes, which were staring at me intensely, “Well, nothing is wrong, but because I have diabetes I should go to the doctor each year to have a check-up”.

“But why does your diabetes mean you need a check up?” he continued.

“Because diabetes can hurt the body’s cells over time and our eyes are particularly sensitive.” I calmly explained.

My daughter jumped in saying, “So diabetes can hurt your eyes and other parts of your body because our whole body is a bunch of cells, right?”

“Yes.  And I’ve had diabetes for 20 years so it’s a good idea for me to be extra careful and see doctors every year to make sure my body is working like it should.”

My daughter smiled, gave me a thumbs up, and said confidently, “Sounds good, mom!”

My admittedly skeptical son looked down and said, “Well I hate it.”  He looked up at me with his brown eyes and in the most deliberate manor said, “I hate diabetes.”

I was stunned.

For a second I thought about saying something soothing and typical of a parent.  But all that came out was, “I do, too.”

And that was it.  He went back to eating his dinner.  I began my memory roller coaster and wondered how my child could know enough to say he hated something that he has always seen me have. Did I appear weak or sick to him?  Did I give him cause for worry? What gave it away?  Was he just putting the logic of my explanation together?

So many questions flooded me until I was tired of thinking.  All I’m sure of is I will do whatever it takes to make sure my diabetes doesn’t affect them more than it has to.  When it slows me down, makes me feel incompetent and a complete fool for having had children, I need to make sure I kick those thoughts to the curb.  So that my kids don’t catch those thoughts.  So that I don’t become those thoughts.  Because when a five year old says “I hate diabetes” one sits up and pays attention.  I don’t want my children tethered to my worries.  Or can this legitimately be their worry, too?  I’d rather it not be.  Especially not at five.  And not while I’m alright and it’s technically jumping the gun.

That’s what I will tell him tonight before he and his sister go to sleep.  That I’m alright and there is no need to worry.  I will make it a point to hear my own words.


The Way Kids See It


For many of us with diabetes, our children will grow up watching us check our blood sugars, inject insulin or be connected to a pump, desperately shove sugar into our mouths, and not find any bit of it strange.

And the only time it becomes something they stop and ponder may be when a friend or someone from the outside asks questions about it.  “What’s your mom doing?”  “What’s wrong with her-is she sick?”

They will explain we have diabetes and that we have to check our blood sugars and take medicine for it.  It won’t even be a big deal.

Their reality of our having diabetes should be ours.

Focusing on wishing we didn’t have diabetes only hinders us and distracts us from all the diabetes related decisions we need to make every day.  We need all our energy for managing this thing.

For our children, it just “is” this way.  And for us to gain full acceptance of our diabetes we can try looking at it the same way, it just “is”.  That’s our reality.  Now what are we going to do with it?

Or better yet, what example are we going to give our kids about facing our reality and living life to the fullest?

Leashes Aren’t Only for Dogs

April 2012 079

Aurora took this picture of “daddy chasing brother”

Alex is going to be away a few weeks working out of state which is leaving me going from cliff hanging to free falling.  Or so it feels.

It’s not just that I’m doing more by myself but also, Alex and I are used to doing everything together so it’s hard to have him away.  And of course, there is the issue of having twin toddlers and how they are at an age where it’s much easier to have a one adult per child ratio happening.

Just the other day at the grocery store, Henri took off running as I was paying.  I left Aurora by the cart and took off sprinting after him.  Henri is the fastest little boy I’ve ever seen and of course, he’s mine.  Just as he was about to pass the last set of doors before getting to the street, an elderly man saw him and his lunatic mom (aka-me) a ways behind him, screaming “STOP Henriiii!”  The man shuffled his feet to the left and then to the right repeatedly while bent over with arms spread to the sides to prevent Henri from getting past.  The man looked exactly like a center on the basketball court.  Henri tried one last attempt through the man’s legs as the stranger whom we’ll call “light on his feet Bob” snatched him up and handed him to me.

I was so embarrassed I apologized and thanked “Bob” and he said while grinning, “Nah, honey, now you see why they say it takes a village?”  A village of kind, nimble footed souls, yes.  Then off I went in search of Aurora who had picked up a few bags of M&M’s, clutching them close to her chocolate loving heart.  It’s funny, she’s never had M&M’s before, doesn’t see TV commercials, and yet her instincts tell her they’re good.

So that’s why we don’t go out often enough.  Let me ask you all a desperate and serious question.  Would it be awful to use those …child leashes-I mean restraints?  I keep cringing at the thought of using them but I cringe even more to think of one of my kids meeting a car while on the run.  They do it a lot.  They think it’s funny to see me freak out.  Did you see one of the latest Modern Family episodes where Cam and Mitchell use one for their daughter while at Disneyland?  Did you see the way the family reacted?  Like it was inappropriate and ridiculous looking?  Like they were treating her like an untrained puppy?  WELL.  That’s what I’m talking about.  And they were two adults for one child.

My mom had five kids and she says that she has learned that twins are uniquely difficult (not more, just uniquely) because of how they’re at the same developmental stage.  And I think that’s what is tough for me.  I can’t go anywhere safely or without tons of stress but almost everyone imagines I should be able to (as I imagined I’d be able to before actually experiencing this wonderful madness).  It’s not that I feel judged.  I just don’t feel quite understood.  Even some of my siblings don’t see what’s so challenging about it.  And then there’s the third baby I have to take care of-my diabetes.  The combination makes me feel like I’m risking the kid’s safety too often and my health, too.

That’s it.  I’m ordering child restraints right away.  Thanks for listening.  And next time we all see a kid-on-a-leash, let’s think about how the parent behind the child is simply scared that their little runaway will run away and get abducted or struck by a car.  Or injure a helpful stranger trying to stop them.

Practicing Material Unattachment


In our household, my son is normally the one to break things.  I call him “Henri the Menace”.  He really is.  No.  Really.  He is.  Anyway, yesterday however, my daughter Aurora had a stellar, record-breaking day.  She threw a ceramic decorative mask on the marble fireplace mantle, she smashed a cordial liquor glass that I was letting her look at on the wall just for kicks, and when I let her put on my necklace she ripped it in half like the Hulk would.  Oh, she also accidentally dove off my bed head first but luckily she’s fine.  That’s what happens when you smile at yourself in the mirror while jumping on the bed, chica.

Each time something broke I had to close my eyes and take a deep breathe.  Obviously it wasn’t her fault I let her handle any of these objects but a flutter of achiness stirred in me because of the loss of my things.  I had to really focus on how these objects are just that and how really, I’m just happy no one smashed their head or any other body part anywhere.

And so yesterday reminded me how it’s good not to feel too attached to our material belongings.  They bring us pleasure but they are no where near as important as the people in our lives.  It’s scary to think how we might guard a special piece of jewelry more than a loved one’s heart, but we often do.

So today, let’s just remember that things are just things.  But I will not be letting that little girl anywhere near my meter or insulin vial.  That would just be asking for it.

Happy Friday!

Closing the Kitchen


Recently, my kids have gone from eating their brown rice and veggies, quinoa with garlic and ginger, and organic poultry, fish, and meats to wanting only fruit and dairy and grains.  They’d probably want coke all the time except that stuff has never passed their lips so they don’t know what they are missing.  And that’s why they prefer the starchier, sweeter stuff.  They’ve had it and they’re not naïve anymore to the big world of junk food.  I should have kept them in the dark…

Anyway, my only hope is to have them be hungry enough at meal time so that they’ll eat what I have to offer.  I don’t plan on being cruel and force feeding them what they don’t like.  But I need them not to eat processed foods and I want to avoid scenarios where they tire me out to the point of desperately feeding them crappy sugar laden breakfast cereal “Fine, you win!  Just stop the whining!” (yes, it’s happened).

I’m going to close the kitchen.  I grew up hearing that children require snacks in between meals because they’re growing and they get hungry more often.  But, I have been learning more and more about nutrition from experts and many of them hold the opinion that we should be hungry before meals and we shouldn’t snack all doggone day-and this includes children.  And while I don’t think snacking is a sin, I do think that for me and my kids it’s become an inconvenient appetite destroyer.

I try to make every meal and not pull it out of a box.  I also eat different foods than my kids.  And my husband eats different foods from me and the kids.  So by the time dinner rolls around I’ve made seven different meals and cut up fruit or vegetables or cheese for snacks and it just hit me that I practically live in the kitchen.  Not cool.  I grew up hearing the whole “pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen” saying and swore I’d NEVER spend too much time in the kitchen.  In fact, when I was pregnant, I looked down to find myself barefoot in the kitchen, freaked out, and quickly got some shoes on my swollen feet.  You can say feminism has scarred me.  Whatever.  Point is, I hate looking at food all day you know?  It says, “eat me!” and so all day I’m fighting the temptation to eat the kid’s whole wheat pasta or my husband’s rice and beans.  Or I’m sneaking in a bite of food here and there and realizing that one bite of food is enough to throw blood sugars and weight loss efforts.  It’s exhausting.

So I’m closing the kitchen.  I’m going to make sure the kids eat a good breakfast and then I’ll have my grapefruit or avocado or whatever I’m having and then kitchen closed.  It will reopen for lunch and then it will close.  It will reopen for dinner and then it will close.  My kids are used to a bottle of milk or coconut milk or almond milk before bed.  I’ll leave them that luxury.  But snacks in between meals?  Nope.  I need them hungry enough to eat what I know is best for them to eat.  I mean who’s in charge here?  Me or them?

Ok, I’ve adequately pep talked myself.  Let’s do this!

(I’ll keep you posted on our progress…or lack thereof :)

Do any of you stick to three meals and no snacks during the day?  If so, how does it work for you?

DSMA Blog Carnival January 2012


I’m barely squeezing in DSMA’s Blog Carnival entry for this month which asks the question:

What is the one thing you are looking forward to this year?

My formal answer is…my health coaching business!  It fits into my life and personality perfectly.  And though I love being with my kids, I do think I’m one of those moms that needs a part time thing to stay sane.  Not to mention, the way the economy is these days…I can totally get why both parents often work to make ends meet.  We are no different.

Now for my secret, locked away answer. My kids will be turning three in June and I look forward to them talking.  By now, yes, they are technically behind.  But, luckily, that’s the only set back that can be observed AND…I feel like it’s right around the corner.  My son talks all the time only you really can’t make out much of what he says.  It’s time for him to stop using “twin gibberish” or “twinspeak” and start using English or Spanish.  He knows both.  Son, just pick one.  I beg you.

Christmas Day 2011 134

My daughter on the other hand doesn’t say much.  She likes to make a lot of noises.  She can imitate any noise (or action for that matter, she could be a very talented mime).  She can do any animal sound, even an elephant (an advanced one, in my opinion) and the other day I heard her repeating her leaptop’s alphabet sounds.  She can pronounce the sound for every letter in the alphabet.  I’ve heard her say well over 50 words by now.  But she doesn’t like repeating them.  It’s like she doesn’t want to talk, yet.  Weird, because mom is such a blabbermouth and clearly, it’s so much fun.  Anyway, I think she has a pretty wild sense of  humor.  Yesterday for example, Alex encouraged her to say “mama” instead of “papa” when calling out to me.  She can say “mama” and she does say it, but she thinks it’s funny to say “papa” because I’m like, “No! I’m mama!”  We asked her to say “mama” quite a bit and you know what she did?  She spent the rest of the evening calling me “Sysy”, instead.  You see what silliness I’m dealing with here?

Christmas Day 2011 145

Anyway, the reason that this is something I’m really looking forward to is not just because it’s convenient and fun to have them talk but mostly because deep…deep down I sometimes wonder if my kids don’t talk yet because of my having diabetes or not breast feeding them long enough or not feeding them the right stuff or just doing something wrong.  I usually understand that this happens to plenty of kids and I know it’s common in twins, but on certain days, I find myself scared that somehow I’ve ruined them.  Perhaps with toddler TV shows or by somehow being an inadequate mom.

It’s often an asset to be the type that analyzes situations to death but when it comes to parenting I think it drives a person nuts.  Surprisingly, it’s been helpful to write this post out.  It has helped me realize I just want to focus on making the most of this year by doing things with them like finger painting, howling at the moon, running in the grandparent’s yard, playing with cousins, dancing on the balcony when it rains, and hopefully, when they are ready, having long conversations…about anything.

The Greatest Lesson my Parents Taught Me


My parents have taught me many things.  This is from my perspective as to what has been the most valuable lesson for me.  Now that I’m a parent do I even begin to understand things from my childhood.  Some issue will arise with my children and I’ll think back and go “Oh…I get it now”.  And only now do I really get what I would call their greatest lesson as a married couple.


Let me tell you a little about my parents.

My mom is the kind of person that will tell it like it is.  She stood up for me when my teacher picked on me while another parent might have avoided confrontation (I was embarrassed, relieved, and proud all at once).  Everyone I know likes being around her.  She’s energetic, bubbly, and fun loving.  People are always surprised that I’m her daughter and not her sister because she looks at least 10 years younger than she is.  My mom loves a party or social gathering.  It’s why I didn’t just have a father daughter dance at my wedding, I danced a samba with my mom, too.  She rarely loses at board games.  She always is ready to spring into action.  She has five grandchildren and I swear she has more energy than me when taking care of them.  She raised two children with type 1 diabetes and was the main pancreas for us both.  I don’t remember her getting emotional or upset over what we had to deal with.  She just did what needed to be done and continued to live life.  I know inside she suffered but I don’t remember seeing it.  I can recall her frustration when managing Ana’s low and my high all at once, as well as the needs of our three other siblings who needed her attention.  But overall her attitude of “you and Ana can do anything with diabetes and still be healthy” always reigned.  So I continued to play sports and do the things I enjoyed, regardless of how much more challenging diabetes made it all.  My mom was in the stands ready with water, juice, glucose tablets, our meters, all while chatting up parents and cheering on the game.  She helped us live as normal a childhood as was possible and looking back, I am really appreciative of that gift.

My dad is in many ways my mom’s polar opposite.  While my friend’s dads were drinking a beer and watching football on TV (nothing wrong with that) my dad was spending time with us.  He often talked to us kids about science, philosophy, religion, politics, health-heck every possible subject in the world, aside from gossip and small talk.  I don’t recall one instance in my entire life where my dad went out with friends or coworkers without his family.  He was with us or he was working, period.  I thought that was normal until I got older and realized that there were many dads out there who did very different.  I grew up thinking that everyone’s dad played the guitar for them before they went to bed and that everybody’s dad had taught themselves to play the piano.  Ana and I have a few favorite songs we share and they are original piano compositions by our dad.  My dad is our family’s moral compass.  He’s like a visionary, too, observing and looking ahead.  He taught us to do right by others and to dream big.  A family friend once aptly stated that if she was going to a party she’d call my mom and if she was on her deathbed, she’d call my dad.  Despite all his deep thinking and seriousness, I think my dad can be quite the character.  He worries for everyone and their wellbeing and takes his responsibilities seriously but sometimes he’ll break out with a random joke or do something utterly spontaneous.  When I was pregnant, I went to my parents house one day for lunch.  As my dad opened the grill to get it ready he basically freaked out over this:


He was genuinely angry at the birds (a hilarious stark contrast to the normally very concerned citizen of nature so this was a huge surprise to us all) and I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard.

He managed our diabetes from a less intensive point.  He made charts and graphs and helped point out trends he noticed.  My dad was often the one to notice when Ana or I didn’t seem like ourselves.  My mom is naturally more hands on and did our shots and finger pricks and carb counts until we took those over.  My dad, a little further removed, was able to see the bigger picture.  He also served as the more emotionally available parent which is as valuable as anything else.  My mom pushed her emotions aside and reserved all her energy.  Anytime I needed something I’d automatically say “mom!”  I still do that and instead of call my parent’s house, I call my mom’s cell without even thinking about it.  I can’t imagine how much more difficult things would have been with my diabetes without either one of my parents.  I think Ana would agree.

My point of all this is that no parent of a child with diabetes has to be be able to do it all.  Together, parents and even family and friends can use their skills and areas of interest to help a child with diabetes make their way through childhood.  I think Ana and I were very lucky to have two very different people working together to meet so many of our needs.

Now that I’m a parent, I try to accept which roles I play in my children’s lives and try not to feel bad about what I can’t do or don’t do well.  I can accept that I’m the nerdy mom that is a bit of a control freak and is always thinking about everyone’s wellbeing.  I think it’s great that Alex is so different from me.  Every time one of us is struggling with the kids, the other takes over and is more equipped to handle the situation, thus saving the day.  I never want to be jealous of how Alex seems to usually be the fun, cool, and relaxed parent because when someone needs water or food or seems to have a belly ache, I am the usually the first to notice and that’s certainly valuable, too.

I hope that when my parents think back on the jobs they did with Ana and I and our other three siblings, they’ll see their short comings were simply an opportunity for the other parent to step in and to show us what teamwork is all about.  In fact, I like to think that’s their greatest lesson to us- teamwork.  I hope you both know you did a great job.  Thank you so much.

Locked Out

November 2011 189

My kid’s are almost two and a half now.  They’re more mischievous every day.  For the most part I like that fact because since we stay home all day, most days, well, we need some entertainment.  That’s why we dance around to this and this, move the mattresses from their beds to the living room to do “gymnastics”, and have messy tea parties will real milk and cookies.  Sometimes though, things happen and I’m once again reminded of how people with diabetes really need to be extra prepared than the rest of the population.

Saturday, I was changing Aurora in the kid’s bedroom while Henri was busy in the living room with a Lego tower.  I finish up and head out when I realize the door is locked.  Henri has pushed the lock on the other side of the door and locked his sister and I in their bedroom.  I have just given insulin for breakfast, am in a nightgown, the apartment maintenance crew is out for the day, and Alex is at work.  I don’t have my phone or usual glucose tablets on me, either.

I start knocking on the door, praying Henri hasn’t gotten into trouble when I hear him giggling on the other side.  “Henriii…unlock this door please!  Push the button, baby, please!”  More giggling.  He knocks on the door playfully and runs away.  Then he comes back and knocks again, giggles, and runs away.  I hear him jumping on the couch, having all kinds of fun.  Aurora figures out what’s going on and the drama queen falls on the floor crying, her hand over her forehead like a damsel in distress.  Oh no, she’s like her mom.  “Aurora, it’s ok, your brother is going to open the door-Henriiii open the door! Push the button, Henri, push the button!”

This goes on for thirty minutes and finally, Henri unlocks the door.  I rush out and chug 16 ounces of apple juice.  Aurora and Henri embrace.  They don’t like to be separated.  I don’t like that I was so vulnerable.  The lock has been switched out and Alex has shown me how to pick it.  Next time, I’ll be prepared.  Because I’m sure there will be a next time.


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September DSMA Blog Carnival Entry

Sept 2011 002

To read more entries in this blog carnival, click here.

If I didn’t laugh about life with diabetes and twins, then I would be like a chicken with her head cut off.

Seriously!  I grew up surrounded by four younger siblings.  So I’m used to dodging toys on the floor, building tents out of blankets, child versions of recipes that for some reason include grass, “cologne” made of pine needles, my stuff “magically” disappearing, the house rarely quiet, and of course, the sense that in my own home, I could never be alone.  But, having siblings and having kids that rely on me are two VERY different things.

Today, I step over the Legos to prepare breakfast for the kids as they were carrying out a tug of war with a blanket.  Eventually one let go and the other is sent flying into the wall.  That was Henri and he is what I like to call compact and strappy because he falls, flips, rolls, and nothing ever seems to slow him down.  He bounces really well.  Henri doesn’t like being thrown into the wall and takes off running and in a move that would impress any NFL player, he soars through the air to tackle his sister, his little arms ready to get around her.  Really?  We’re tackling now?  Not in my house!  I intercept this and put my arms around Henri until he stops squirming and the aggression dissipates.  Aurora looks at him as if to say, “haha, mommy stopped you!” and then she prances along her way, as usual.

I’m explaining to Henri that we don’t tackle one another when Aurora happily pops out of the kitchen with the sharp cooking shears.  She points them forward while closing and opening them and smiling.  It almost looks like a scene from a horror movie.  I run and intercept that disaster and hide the shears out of reach.  I didn’t know they could reach those drawers.  I am suddenly well aware of all the “weapons”  the kitchen is equipped with.

I look over at the kids to find them side by side with their arms around each other, smiling.  “Awww you guys that’s more like it!”  Then I look over on the floor and see a few of my favorite books from the bookcase, with shreds of paper all around.  “Ughhh”.  Henri jumps into action and helps me pick up the pieces of paper.  I wonder if this may be a sign of guilt…  “Thank you, son”.  Aurora surprises me and picks a few pieces up, too but then, while spinning around, throws them up into the air and laughs.   I go on about how we treat books carefully and gently when I notice Henri grabbing the large wooden table top cover that belongs to their play table and resting it against the couch.  Then he slides down.  And guess who wants to join him?  Only, their combined weight of over 60 pounds is too much for this table top so I try to take it away before it snaps.  This results in me having a child wrapped around each one of my legs in protest.

Then I remember how I gave insulin for breakfast 20 minutes ago.  This is when I feel a low coming on.  This is when I laugh to myself as I walk like a lead footed zombie while dragging two heavy toddlers over to the kitchen where I grab some glucose tablets.  A little later the house is quiet and they’re playing with Legos.  I laugh again because this peaceful moment and my blood sugar holding steady at 98 will probably last all of five more minutes.

The Girl Who Bites Her Nails

Pic courtesy of Salvatore Vuono


I’ve been the anxious type for as long as I can remember.  Elementary School was rough.  Just speaking in front of the class felt like a heart attack.  The anxiety would come and go depending on what went on in school and in life.  It definitely shot up in social situations.  And yet I still put myself out there and overcame the anxiety and “shyness”.  I’m proud of myself for that.  I have spoken in public numerous times and enjoyed it so much, despite the intense underlying nervousness.

11 Years ago I started suffering panic attacks.  I got rid of the imbalance with changes in my life such as more exercise, less coffee, healthier relationships, better blood sugar control, and more positive thinking.  Granted it took years, a job change, and a change of a significant other…The funny thing is I’m fine. I mean, I think and feel happy only I’m physically feeling the overwhelming symptoms of anxiety. It’s a strange thing, it’s as if my body isn’t communicating with my brain or something.

Since the birth of my twins, I have gone into worry mode much more.  I also haven’t left the house much in two years.  As a result I find I’m going backwards in my social comforts.  For example, when I went to the Diabetes Sisters Conference in April, I suddenly experienced extreme anxiety.  My blood sugars shot up to 300 and stayed there the entire weekend.  I have been 300 a handful of times in the past year so to stay there for two days meant something was up.  I realized the second day of the conference that it was due to my anxiety.  My heart was racing, I couldn’t sleep, I was nauseated, and I spoke to everyone awfully fast.  I wasn’t miserable at the conference, I was thoroughly enjoying myself!  And yet I still felt this way.

The feeling of anxiety has lingered since.  In the past two weeks I’ve had a few panic attacks.  Mild ones, but ugly none the less.  Usually the anxiety builds up when my twin two year olds are crying at the same time.  My skin feels tingly and I go into this “make it stop, make it stop, make it stop” mode.  I’ve felt this a lot during the past two years because I’ve been around my kids about 98% of their waking moments and I’m hyper sensitive to their crying.  Or maybe it’s just that their crying is so loud when they’re in sync.  I know it’s natural for babies to whine and cry but it drives me bananas after a while.  You’d think motherhood would come naturally to mothers and yet I feel clueless lol!  I might even feel like an utterly inadequate mom, which I know is silly but while vulnerable the thought does enter my mind.

I feel like someone is stepping on my chest, not letting me breathe.  I feel like I’m not able to exercise efficiently because of that, too.  I’ve been here before and the diabetes certainly aggravates it but at least I know it’s not a permanent situation.  I don’t go out around people much and so when I do I internally freak out.  If you met me in person you probably wouldn’t notice anything abnormal.  I am friendly and chatty and I don’t appear anxious-au contraire, I seem relaxed.  The thing is, on the inside I feel completely frazzled and my nails are bitten down to the bare minimum. 

Soon, the kids will grow out of the difficult stage they’re in where we feel we can’t take them anywhere and where all the fun activities out there seem to be for ages 3+.  We go to parks and more parks and I’m allergic to the outdoors so that’s rather tiring.  Eventually we’ll be able to leave the house during the day and be out about in the world more.  I’ll find it easier to trust others to watch my kids.  (I’m paranoid because of my daughter’s severe peanut and egg allergies and the way she puts everything in her mouth) 

In the meantime I’m debating seeking help over doing what I’ve always done which is hold on for the ride a little longer and work to maintain blood sugars, exercise, and diet so that I can come back to a healthy place again. 

It’s hard feeling this way but I’m not ashamed (and neither should you if this sounds familiar).  It’s hard to have type 1!  And have little twins and one of them not be able to touch surfaces or eat foods without fear of exposure.  It’s hard to be “shy” and to be stuck at home all day and to do it all while living paycheck to paycheck.  We’ve never fully recovered from my quitting my job to stay home with the kids and my husband being laid off for 8 months.  That swallows up a just married and honeymooned couple’s little bank account real fast.

I’ve overcome this many times before and will just have to dust myself off and do it again.  And laugh.  I laugh a lot.  Sometimes like the joker but never the less Winking smile

Got any anxiety busting tips for me?