The Buffet Table

Personally, I love a good appetizer and snack focused buffet table.  Interesting dips, meatballs, crackers with good cheese and foods encased in puff pastry are a few of my favorite things.  Top it off with a good cookie table and it's perfect.  If I'm there alone.

With my daughter around, a couple of hours of happy grazing turns into a couple of hours of math and negotiating.

When there is a buffet table, one is expected to graze.  You have a mini hot dog, meet the relative in from out of town, try a couple of dips, chat about the school play, make your way to the meatballs where you spend time with the party host; and on it goes.

The first problem with this scenario is that each snack requires a math problem and a bolus.  When every conversation is interrupted with 'I took 4 meatballs, mom,' or 'I just ate 7 corn chips,' it's hard to carry on a conversation. When I'm interrupted to nix the plea for a 4th cookie, my already limited cocktail party-related social skills take a big hit.

The second, but related problem is an extension of the standard regular-people buffet party challenge.  If I have a drink in one hand and a little plate in another, I already must find a third hand to eat.  Add the meter remote to that third hand and I'm out.  Even with the understanding that every mother develops a third hand (a.k.a. the ability to juggle well), this scenario becomes impossible and I remain hungry or thirsty so that my kid doesn't end up high.

So a buffet party turns into me with a drink OR food in one hand, following my kid with the meter remote while trying to make small talk and perform carbohydrate equations in my head at the same time.

Ironically, I suppose, we throw one of these parties every year.  The difference is that I painstakingly create a list of every food with its carbohydrate content and post it on the fridge.  My daughter takes the meter remote and is able to do her own juggling act while I play hostess and eat my fair share of mini quiches.

In a perfect world, we'd be handed a cheat sheet at the start of every party, and one of these cool plates .

Enough Already

Here's an abbreviated list of things I wish I never had to do again:

-Hear my alarm clock at 2 a.m.

-Receive a text that has only a blood sugar number in it.

-Answer a call from the nurse's office.

-Hear "I feel low."

-Do math before my first cup of coffee or in the midst of a party.

-Lug pounds of diabetes supplies through a museum or up a mountain.

-Worry whether my child is passed out somewhere.

-Explain type 1 diabetes.

-Argue with a pharmacist, insurance company representative or medical provider.

-Support my child through a disappointment or frustration diabetes has caused her. 

This parenting a child with diabetes job is intense and unrelenting. Being responsible for keeping another person alive,safe and healthy is a stressful job. It involves countless physical, mental and emotional tasks every day. I must also help with the math homework, do some laundry, make dinner and provide sufficient regular-people parenting support to a 13 year old.  In my spare time I should surely contribute to society in some productive way.  Then I need to get out to see the latest movies, read the big novels, exercise, and make time for the rest of my loved ones.

I've heard diabetes described as a juggling act among carbs, insulin, activity and multiple other factors, and it's a good  metaphor.  There are occasional days when this juggling act seems possible.

But then diabetes throws in a knife or a flaming torch and all those other balls must instantly lose my attention.