Teenage Moths

My friends with teenage kids say "wait until your girls are teenagers".  A lot.  Apparently there is a metamorphosis that takes place when a child becomes a teenager. The cute little caterpillar child turns into a gigantic ugly moth that knocks you down and chews holes in your sweaters.  How very frightening.

I have a  hard time believing these parents.  I have one very special teenager in my life, and I know for a fact, she would not chew a hole in my sweater.  At least on purpose.  My niece, Amanda.

Amanda is smart, funny and very sociable (except for the pizza guy that one time).  She is also very adventurous.  She water skis, wake boards, rides dirt bikes, ATVs and snowmobiles.  If there is an activity that could possibly break a limb, she wants in.  She's tough.  She's 13.

She is my teenage babysitter.

When Madeline was diagnosed with diabetes, I wasn't sure how Amanda would feel about babysitting.  She would need to be able to test blood sugars and follow the strict rules that applied to Madeline's care.  Most teenage babysitters are not equipped, nor want, that kind of responsibility.

She did not hesitate to help.  She learned blood sugar testing immediately and listened to my speech about diabetes and the care that had to be given.  She understood this was not just a parent being overly protective.  This was serious business.

She approached diabetic babysitting like a new adventure.  This would be something she could do, and was determined to be good at it.  It worked.  When she babysits, I get to have a few hours of me time, and know my girls will be safe and having tons of fun. That does not come easily these days. 

I can only hope my children follow in the footsteps of  Amanda. That is, as long as she doesn't morph into a gigantic moth and attack us.

I'm not worried.

Diabetes Dance

We have officially made it past the 6 month mark with Madeline's diabetes.  No confetti, no balloons or horns, just a sigh of relief.

6 months ago if someone had told me "after 6 months you'll be pretty good at managing diabetes", I may have just laughed in their face (you know, that crazy, psychotic scary kind).  But here we are chugging right along.  We have the good days (yahooo, look at those great blood sugar numbers!) and the not so good days (WTF did I do wrong to give you that number?!).

Diabetes keeps me on my toes so much I should invest in ballet shoes.  Seriously.  I believe I now qualify for the lead role in The Nutcracker or Swan Lake.  Ok, so maybe I do not posses the grace needed for that, but I could show Fred Flintstone a thing or two at the bowling alley!  My toes are superior.

I hope to pass this great toe talent on to Madeline when she is older.  She will have to put on that tutu and pirouette to the diabetes dance day in, and day out, for the rest of her life.  But for now, I just want her to sit back, relax and let me put on the show.

Madeline has learned the very first, and most important, step to this new dance. 

She can now say: "I have diabetes".

Well done my little ballerina.