Food Fights

You are the proud recipient of some major complaints.  Sorry-you are in the wrong place at the wrong time! Ha.

Complaint #1: Arguing over food is NO fun.
This morning Mary Claire was 291 (high!), and I gave her a bolus (insulin), and told her she could eat the donut we got last night at Krispy Kreme.  She ate it, then she asked for her leftover half-donut she didn't finish from last night.  I changed her site and gave her the bolus, and told her she could eat it when she finished emptying the dishwasher (she was not happy about unloading, and was showing me attitude and slow-ness and she was high!)  When I got Ethan's donut out for him, it was missing half it's chocolate frosting and sprinkles!  I asked around to find out who swiped half his sugar.  No one would admit it.  I asked Mary Claire again-and told her to tell me the truth.  She admitted eating most of his frosting, so I told her she couldn't have the other half donut (seemed appropriate since she'd already had some of another donut!).  I told her she could have juice or chocolate Silk milk, or some cereal or food.  She got all attitude, and told me she wasn't hungry or thirsty.  I told her to come get me when she was on the floor and couldn't walk because she was low.  I was so mad!  She was going to drop at some point, and it wouldn't be pretty!  
She did fine till it was time to walk into church.  Ches checked her, and she was 57.  She had a sugar tablet, and a chocolate mint from Mimi's on her way into church.  I wasn't happy since we are supposed to fast an hour before communion (and church is an hour).  She had done it to herself.  I HATE arguing about food, or forcing her to eat.  It SUCKS.  I want to say it fifteen million times.  She's growing up, and it's getting harder.  I can't make her do things, and that's hard too!

After a while, we were fine, but Oh, what a struggle it can be.

Complaint #2: I get tired of hearing about his illnesses.
Oh my gosh-I've had my cervix dilated and played around in twice this week, and am I complaining?  (ok, minus thursday)  He's always got something or other wrong with him, and now it's not just the cold/illness, now it's the side effects from the antibiotic he got Friday he's just sure are plaguing him!  Don't we all know not to read the stupid papers that come with our meds?  If we did, we'd never take anything!  He's concerned now about his sense of smell, and the chance of tendonitis.  (??)  I finally told him just to quit taking it, call the doctor on Tuesday morning, and get something new.  He always has flare-ups on my birthday, Christmas, anniversaries, etc.  What is that?  The need for attention?  I cleaned the garage on my birthday. (yes, by choice, but still!)  Alone.  Hell-o.  Wake up, and get better!  I'm getting bored of that story!

Complaint #3: You mean you hung around this long?  Wow!  I can't think of another one, so thanks for listening. : )  I feel so much better!

I had a better day-church (minus food episode), lunch at Tim's Pizza-saw some old friends!, then to Wal-Mart for new tubs for my garage garbage (say it rhyme-y!), then home to organize the garbage (and throw out those old, nasty baskets!).
Then Mom (thank you, sweet mom!) watched the kids so Ches and I could go see a movie.  We saw Going the Distance, and it had so much that shocked me!  There were drugs and lots of language, but I have to say it was a good movie.  Very real, and funny.  I did laugh-is that wrong? : )
And I've listened to health problems.  I'll try to go get over my neuroses.  Just know I'm far from perfect.  I'm sure he could tell you stories about me-he told the nurse in LR that I snore (so that's #1), I like to reorganize the dirty dishes in the dishwasher (to maximize space and group like-shaped items--that's #2), and (I'm thinking...) I forget to water my outside plants, and they end up looking strangely brownish (that's #3), and I'm done dishing dirt on myself-it was just supposed to be an example!


Goodnight.  Sleep well, and don't let the bed bugs bite! (that'll scare your kids!)
ps-I found a (kinda) new candy bar!  It's the Thingamajig-and it's eerily like the Whatchamacallit (crispy things covered in peanut butter covered in chocolate).  Did they just change the name? I took a picture, but I'm too lazy to go upload it.  It was darn tasty though!  Ok, here are some I found (and discovered that, yes, they are the same!):

and the insides: pretty darn similar!

I bet I wouldn't have to talk Mary Claire into eating those!

No Gold Medal

Sweet memories are flooding back. I have all these memories of my childhood, my family, and just being little-when all you worried about was finding your shoes, and not slamming the door on the way out (or leaving it open too long, or you hear, "Shut the door!"). I have found some cousins I haven't seen in absolute ages (amounts to about 20 years, give or take?). They were beautiful things I adored getting together with-just to play at Grandma's house. It just takes me back to visits, eating with extended family, my grandma's pork chops, her letting me make the mashed potatoes, playing out back on her stained concrete (before it was in style), spending the night in her room with the windows open listening to the train or the cicadas, sitting in her old crabapple tree out front, pretending it was a fort, or collecting a coffee can (remember those?) full of crabapples to do nothing with. Oh, happy times. Now the tree is gone, the house is sold, my grandma is in Heaven, but I have my pocket full of memories. Memories no one can take away. Things turn golden over time, don't they? I'm so glad.

There was a time when I spent the night with my grandma and I was in sixth grade. I was supposed to go to the Little Olympics the next day. My grandma drove me dutifully to the field where the games were, and I'd practiced so hard for two weeks, and (as I remember) I had the fastest time (or one of the fastest times?) of the other kids who were practicing for the obstacle course. My grandma pulled up and parked, and I couldn't get out. I don't know what happened. I don't know if I knew she was going to drive away alone (and geez, she didn't even drive across Hwy 71Business, and she was on the other side of it! and how would she get home alone?), she couldn't stay (for fear?), or if I was scared to get out and go up there alone. I don't know. All these things flashed through my head: my team not winning without me, me not finding my school/team/friends, me alone, my grandma alone, the afternoon I'd miss with her if I stayed. It was all too much. I just sat frozen in the car (back when you could sit in the front seat. And maybe not even wear a seat belt?). She just said, "Let's go home." And we did. I felt awful: for my team, for my fear, for my grandma, for how things would go in life. I just had this feeling. I had a good afternoon, and we went to the library (our usual), and she shared her love of books with me, and we probably had frozen pizza and refrigerated Reese's. Two things I don't eat now without remembering her. Anyway, I wouldn't trade the afternoon for anything now. Gold medal, or no.

So, this brings me back to my cousins. I love them, and I love that we share history. And the blood of family. It seems I have less family every year, so I cherish what I have while I have it. I hope my kids carry some history on to their kids. Don't you wonder what little things will stick in their minds?

What memories do you still carry around?

A few more of mine: Eagles blaring in the car-me in the back seat, getting Nerds at the gas station, washing dishes with an apron, fingerpainting on the sidewalk (yes, on paper), playing dolls, playing Star Wars, more music: Johnny Lee, Oliva Newton John, Princess Diana's wedding, roast beef, carrots, and potatoes, chocolate pies, old cars, no air conditioning, the Dukes of Hazzard, Love Boat and Fantasy Island, Wile E. Coyote, Fruity Pebbles, Kangaroos, lots of rainbows, purple Nikes, sleepovers, I think I could go on all night. : )