Sunday, February 5, 2012

Quality not Quantity

If someone were to be peaking in through my window, they might think that I spend a lot of time with my children, especially my Type 1 son. We ARE practically joined at the hip. It is true that I spend many hours with him daily. Some nights I spend hours with him while he sleeps. A lot of this time however is spent serving as a poor stand in pancreas.

I have been craving time with Connor. Quality time. Time with him that has conversations that don't include:

Have you tested your blood sugar? 

Are you high? 

Are you low? 

Do you have glucose tabs? 


Is your meter in your backpack? 

Does it have strips in it? 

Mom my blood sugar is 200-75+7. (Yes he gives me his blood sugar in the form of a math problem A LOT)  

How much active insulin do you have? 

What do you mean your site just "kind of" fell off?

Did you bolus? Are you sure?

How many carbs is that you're shoveling into your face? 

Mom, I'm just "tired" tired, not "low" tired. You can put the glucagon away.

Did you measure/weigh that?

Did you eat a snack before p.e.? 

Mom if I send you a picture of the cookies my friend brought into class for his birthday can you tell me how many carbs are in them?

When did we do your site change? 

Did you test before you ate? At the 2 hour mark? At all since you've been awake?!?

How come we have 20 boxes of lancets and only 2 boxes of test strips? 

How many units do you have left in your pump?

How do your used test strips jump out of the trash can that you "threw them away" in and end up every where but the trash can?

Did you wash your hands? 

Mom you forgot to put the amount of carbs in my lunchbox.

Give me your finger.

Please don't bury yourself under every stuffed animal you own at night because you think it's funny to play "hide and seek" when I come in to test you at 3 am.

There is a lot of quantity time but it's sorely lacking in quality.

So yesterday afternoon when I heard my child announce to the world that he wants to be a chef while making his gourmet grilled cheese sandwhich, I had an idea.

Shocking I know.

Since a significant part of our income is spent on medical expenses, I've been trying to do whatever I can to stretch our meager budget to within an inch of it's almost nonexistent life. One such thing has been making our own bread.

This is where I had my light bulb moment. I was already going to be baking bread that afternoon, why not have my chef in the making help me.

He eagerly gathered all of the ingredients together as I rattled them off.

Bread making ingredients? Check.
Measuring cups? Check.
Measuring spoons? Check.
Mixing bowls, pans, non-stick spray? Yes mom I have everything. (Imagine the, I'm smarter than you give me credit for look here. You know the one.)

We proceeded to spend the better part of the afternoon together. Me teaching him how to read a recipe, why we use yeast in bread, how to properly measure out ingredients, etc. And, Connor telling me about the project he's working on in science, who he plays with at recess, and about his favorite online game.

It was A-W-E-S-O-M-E.

I had almost forgotten what it was like to have a conversation with my child that didn't have any mention of diabetes.

He had a great time measuring everything himself. He mixed it all and even kneaded the dough and formed the loaves. I was reminded how amazingly cool my kid is and just how much I love his cute cheesy smile.

It's not often we get to see the fruits of our labors.

Yesterday however, we ate the fruit of our labor toasted, and topped with some homemade strawberry jam.

Now that's quality time!

P.S. I dream of a day where we live in a world that when I type the word glucagon, spell check doesn't yell at me with that red squiggly line telling me I'm wrong. Curse you spell check for making me second guess my tired almost non-functioning brain!