OK- It's been a few days since my last blog, recovering from the whole holiday and catching up with friends and family thing.
OK get this: I went to a High School class reunion After Party at the Borgota Casino in Atlantic City this past weekend. Not my H.S. reunion - that was in October, but the other local high school in my hometown. Let me preface this story with the fact that I'd grown up in a small beach town and that my parents had sent me to a Catholic High School 13 miles from the where I grew up. 90% of the people I had gone to kindergarten through 8th grade with had gone to Atlantic City High, and I hadn't talked with most of them since. I was a crasher for sure, but technically I was invited thanks to my old friend from back in the day, Jami. She and I had recently reconnected, and Jami (as well and a few other old friends) had given me both an invite and the courage to attend. I decided to go and check out memory lane. The last time I 'd seen these people the girls had been taller than almost all the boys and and no one had heard of Madonna - as in the performer, not the heavenly images holding the Christ Child in Italian Renaissance paintings
Thinking back to those days, I was so insecure about absolutely everything. My looks; my hair, my clothes, the craziness that was my family, AND the fact that I had diabetes. Diabetes made me different and I hated it. I wanted to be tall and pretty and be able to eat as many chocolate cookies as I wanted. I mean seriously, what adolesent wants to have a spotlight on them because of a medical issue?? Not me. I used humor to disarm my classmates when it came to my diabetes and myself. If I could make them laugh with me instead of at me when it came to the "Big D", then I wouldn't be such a social outcast. At least, not because of the diabetes. The wardrobe, glasses, and lack of grace, yes, but not my diabetes. ;)
Talking with these folks who I hadn't spoken with in 25 years made realize a few things.
Yes, they all remembered my diabetes, but more importantly they remembered and pointed out what good kid I was. Nice to those who needed it, funny and quick witted, and cuter then I ever thought. Personally, I thought I resembled Alfalfa (with long hair) from "The Little Rascals"during my middle school years. But my old classmate Jason pointed out to me that " I was pretty girl with an 80's hairdo, like the rest of our classmates."
Back then, each and everyone of us was insecure about a variety of different things and each of us brought our self doubt with us to school everyday.
We were all so focused on what our own problems (like parents divorcing or money issues, diabetes, asthma, drug addicted siblings, and not having the right designer jeans to wear,etc) that none of us realized that everybody had issues.
My diabetes was my "issue," my classmates were great with it. I was the one who had a problem with it. Each one of us dealt with things that nobody else even considered.
No longer were we divided into the "cool kids" and the 'freaks and Geeks" We were men and women who had grown into adults with careers and accomplishments, both personal and professional. Some had families, others had medical issues, many had both, and all of us lived to tell our tales.
We came from the same small town and had known each other since childhood.
We'd survived the first day of kindergarten; the fashions of the 70's, the hairdo's from the 80's, friendship breakups and makeups, our first game of spin the bottle and first broken hearts, and everything else in between. I had a blast and I'm glad that I had the opportunity reconnect with my past.
And Now For Something Completely Different!
Photo courtesy of my iPhone and one crazy Bouncy Ride!
Yeah, I actually took this photo in October, at a children's bouncy ride at a farm that had hayrides, a petting zoo and a corn maze - I kid you not!
Let's just say I thought it looked like anything butt a children's ride.
Am I crazy?
Photo courtesy of my iPhone~
Correction, it's actually the exit/tip (And NO, I'm not even going to attempt a Mohel or Proctologist joke) of the Children's Bouncy ride.
And you know what? I'm NOT typing another word~
Happy Thanksgiving - From My Family (and Dot's) to Yours!
Happy Thanksgiving - From my family (and Dot's) to yours!
Be Thankful, enjoy the day, and bolus baby bolus!
Be Thankful, enjoy the day, and bolus baby bolus!
Diabetes Mine Holiday Survival Contest: Back In The Day, Christmas Cookies Were My Contraband of Choice
Want a chance to win some fantastic prizes by simply telling your Diabetes related holiday story? Here's your chance. Over at Diabetesmine, Amy is offering just such a contest called the Diabetes Mine Holiday Survival Contest.
"Your mission, if you choose to accept it," is to write and submit your “Best Of” or “Worst Of” stories about surviving the holidays with diabetes by Friday, December 11th.
You'll have the chance to be one of four winners chosen to receive a prize package of 5 different boku items!
The winners stories (and some honorable mentions) will be featured in an ebook- which will also feature holiday photos of people with diabetes. You can email Amy your photo submissions as well.
To read all about the contest, click here. You can also email Amy your submission (s) at info@diabetesmine.com
What have you got to lose, except of course the opportunity to win some great prizes?
Here's my submission- which I'm emailing Amy today! GOOD LUCK!
Back In the Day, Cookies Were My Contraband Of Choice!
Holidays were tough in our house for many reasons. We had a large family and money was tight, plus we had lots of people with diabetes, which made holiday treats a challenge.
Half the people at the table could eat whatever they wanted, and half couldn’t- it was rough on everyone!
At the beginning of December my mother would start baking and freezing Tollhouse cookies for my brother Johnny who lived in California.
She’d bake late at night, when I was in bed, but I could smell the chocolate and it kept me up at night. I’d wait until everyone was in bed and the house was quiet.
Then, I’d sneak downstairs (skipping the creaky 5th step) and make my way past the dinning room & through the kitchen, and finally arrive in the heater room. We kept our second refrigerator in the heater room, and that’s where all the good stuff was stored.
Before I actually opened the fridge, I went to the cabinet to the left of the utility sink, where the tinfoil was kept, and I'd tare off a sheet.
Then, I’d open up the top freezer portion of the fridge and see the tin of cookies that my mother had just made. I’d take the tin,place it on the washing machine and remove the lid gingerly.
I'd pull back the top layer of wax paper and plastic wrap, revealing the treasure trove of Tollhouse cookies underneath.
It was as if the chocolate chips were looking into my very soul, beckoning me to break all the diabetes rules and give them a try!
My 9 year old self could not resist such a delicious and forbidden temptation.
Ever so carefully, I’d take 3 or 4 cookies and wrapped them tight in the tinfoil, (which was a great way to get rid of the evidence,) and I’d rearrange the cookies that were left so that the remaining contraband didn’t looked disturbed.
I’d grab a carton of milk from the fridge and go outside on the back porch, unwrap and eat my contraband cookies in the dark. Pathetic I know. But also brave when you consider a 9 year old was eating contraband cookies well past midnight on the back porch in the dark of night.
I’d sit on the porch steps, look up at the stars and enjoy my cookies. I'd wash them down with swigs of milk and I'd relish in the fact that I was enjoying something that most people took for granted.
When I was finished, I’d crumble up the foil and toss it in the alley between the garage and the house. Hiding the evidence from any who would look for it.
I’d go back in the house, lock the back door, put the carton of milk back in the heater room fridge, and then go to the downstairs bathroom where I’d wash my face and hands and rinse out my mouth with Listerine.
I’d tiptoe up the steps, avoiding that creaky 5th step and jump back into bed.
The next morning when I tested my urine (back in the diabetes dark ages we didn’t test our blood, we tested urine) was almost always 3% or more, and getting up for school was difficult.
Soon enough, my mom would discover the fact that cookies were missing. You see it wasn’t just me that was pilfering the Christmas Cookie Stash, my sister and dad (both type 1's) were doing the exact same thing I was.
My mom started sending out the cookies to my brother on a weekly basis instead of sending one big batch.
Am I proud of my "Holiday Fail" as a child? No, I’m not. But, I absolutely understand it.
Back then there was no such thing as carb counting or bolusing for extra food.
The Diabetes diet was strict and didn't allow for any holiday treats.
I’ve come along way since then, and I’m proud of the fact that I test my blood sugar between 10 and 15 times a day, and have figured out how to reach “Blood Sugar Nirvana” for most of my favorite bolus worthy foods.
Today, whenever this woman eats a Christmas Cookie, I think of that little girl and enjoy my cookie extra special in her memory.
