Something like a Duck

If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it's not a cat

All Growed Up

Difficult to imagine, but i am an adult. I have slipped away from this world into another called full-time employment, and managed to get lost for 10 months. EEK!

But, alas, there may be hope yet that i come back around to pepper

I've got audio checks to run, then a meeting at 10, but let's see if we can squeeze that nap in right after lunch?

I’ve got audio checks to run, then a meeting at 10, but let’s see if we can squeeze that nap in right after lunch?

my thoughts of Insanity across the world….

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Holy Cow


Noah looks udderly handsome today.

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Everything is Better in Two’s


A little bit of soap + jacuzzi jets + the little brother = an even better BEST BATH in the world!!


Splish Splash


A little bit of soap + jacuzzi jets = the BEST bath ever!!


Da plane. Da plane.

When is a Fantasy Island ‘Tattoo’ reference not applicable!? Never. At least, not in this house.

But that steals from the mammoth moment I am about to have…Ladies and testicles, my first born is set to fly far from the nest tomorrow. His very first summer away from home. His very first unchaperoned flight. My very first aneurism. O my.


Not that I am a stranger to venturing far from home in my wee youth. My mother used to load up her daughters and ship them to Colombia, South America during our long-ago summers.It was an amazing adventure into the different and unknown… not solely in regards to the food and music and overall culture, but to the wild world of Independence. I certainly did not do my mother’s hard work of raising a moral child injustice, buuuut I maybe might have left it to question on one or two occasions. Those summers were portals to wonderful worlds of WOW! I could see every single building or mountain or farm again, very and exact in their existence, but without those unchaperoned, novice eyes they would be little more than physical structures staggered in my line of sight. Those moments as a child are imperative in who and how I am now as an adult.

But am I ready for my son to say the same?  I know it will do him good to breath the fresh air of Sanity. I know a little privacy on the pot will do wonders for his esteem (little brothers can be rather intrusive). There is so much great that can come of this…..but it happens at of the cost of me being without him. *WHINE*

I’m a selfish butt of a woman. I grew this tiny little booger in my belly with the intent of a molding a man out of the mess mass. His happiness and well-being is supposed to be priority number one (it’s in the manual they give out at the hospital), but ME FIRST! ME FIRST!! I want to be there to show him everything…point out the obvious and declare myself genius for doing so, fuss over nothing until it’s something, and maybe even stave off the first inclinations of independence a little bit longer.

I have had him so long all to myself I simply do not want to share! He is going to have a killer conversation that I might not hear. What if he sees the best thing in the whole universe without me? O my goodness, he might even meet a girl that he really likes. And she might not be me! AHHHHHHHHHH!

Good parenting promotes healthy growth by encouraging independence.               

A glass of wine numbs you to your ineptitude at good parenting,

and Skype baby-steps you toward your delusion of release.

Mommy’s video-calling, sweetheart. Pick up 😉


Good Point


“Birds of a feather flock in good weather” so said Josh.

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To Hear a Who

Today’s writing prompt for the 2012 Diabetes Blog Week ? Tell what you would like people without diabetes to know about your life with diabetes.

Horton Hears a Who! is a wonderful book by the ever popular Dr. Seuss. In 2008, Hollywood turned it into a magical movie that I relate to our lives. Our diabetic community is this tiny little speck lost onto the world. We often are not seen. We can go unheard. Our existence can be bliss in our bubble of family and friends, but society  jeopardizes our hard work, our laborious strides, and our peace of mind with half-hazard comments and blinding ignorance.  On our little speck of a world, we do not eat rainbows and poop butterflies, Katie. But “We’re a club. We’re a group. We can take a vote on the issues. We can be a secret society, and no one else can join, unless they wear a special hat!”

My Zachary’s perspective is potent. He deserves to be heard first. Last night, we had an ‘interview’ to discuss today’s topic. And I share it here with you…

Type 1 diabetes is worth your time. If you can dedicate yourself to googling ‘porcelain clowns’ or researching Steven Seagel ‘career credits’, then you have time to educate yourself on a disease that is affecting an estimated 3 million people in the United States alone. The incidence of Type 1 diabetes in children under the age of 14 is estimated to increase by 3% globally. Everyone have their listening ears on (because if you don’t use them, they will fall off)?

I know how under-educated our society is about this disease because I was of them.

“Hello. My name is Christina and I was an ignorant ass.”

Show initiative and learn of your own accord. There is far too much I am trying to teach myself in order to keep my son alive, that I cannot ‘learn you’ your part as well. I am not angry that you do not know, I am frustrated when you do not try! Ask me, and when I answer, please hear me for what I am saying. Do not interrupt my genuine efforts with your false conviction. Do not confuse what science dictates with what opinion encourages.

Secondly, I want people who do not struggle with this burden to know that I am sorry. I am sorry that I snap at you. I am sorry that I shoot daggers with my eyes when you point at his pump or his Dexcom;  murmuring when he pricks his little finger in public. I am sorry that I do not return your calls, emails, or texts sometimes.

I am tired. I am protective. Chances are I was busy not only with a family, but with this damn disease as well.

Last, but not least of all, show me a kindness. Not just me, per say. Show THE WORLD kindness. Diabetes is but one of a thousand of a million invisible afflictions (physical, developmental, or mental) that does not need your comments. We jeopardize Humanity when we choose criticism over compassion. Think as you may, speak as  you should.

“A person is a person no matter how small.”

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Sounds Souper

Now that I have tooted my horn, prepare to hear the sirens… My assignment for Operation 2012 Diabetes Blog Week was easy cheesy yesterday. My mission? Share our quack-a-lastic diabetes life with the world.  Today’s mission? Show the ‘uh-oh’ poopie side of it. Sometimes I can suck the air out of a black hole. I can drain the last bit of patience by proving impossibly impatient. Hard to believe, but I have reeeeediculous expectations. Everyone – from the patient-registry nurse to the hospital valet, the innocent pharmacist behind the counter (standing a paranoid’s length from me…well played), to my husband and children –  they must keep pace! There is an exorbitant amount of pressure straddled on these poor folks. My visions of sugar (free)plum fairies and choreographed unicorns must be executed to perfection. It’s a damn hard thing to contend with…on my part to delegate so much scrutiny; on the world’s part to not maim me with it. Try to apply that special “talent” to a disease who bothers little with the rules. I am so hyper-vigilant about the blood sugars charting across that Dexcom screen that I stalk them like a lioness hunting ravioli on the Serengeti . It is a wee-bit of a joke around these parts (because if humor can’t fix it, neither will therapy), but if you happen to say my son’s name aloud he will scream a number back at you. Doesn’t matter if you were actually just hollering his name, this kid will squeal a reading it t-minus 5 seconds flat. It has become like diabetic tourettes.

“Hey, Zach…”  “149!

“Pick up your toys, Zach” “121

“Who wants to go to the z-” “59

It hasn’t even been a year that he has been diagnosed, but I have brain-washed my boy. Sure, it could be a good thing if it wasn’t a bad one. Neither he nor the world should be so constantly harassed. My most serious fault with this disease? Breaking myself (and others) with impossible goals. I am trying to accept that even if I cannot control diabetes, that does not mean it controls my son. I think that is the snag in the fabric…the fear of losing my child (physically or emotionally) to such a beast.

When my oldest, Josh, was in preschool he was assigned the task of drawing a picture of someone truly super in his life. He brought home a picture of the loveliest stick-figure girl I’d ever seen. In her two hands she held a bowl and a spoon. My son had drawn his mother because “she is the best person in the whole world. and she loves to eat soup. She is really SOUPER!!”

I have to remember that our best efforts are what matter, even if they cannot guarantee the best results. Being right is only a matter of perspective. Josh was right…I love soup. I am souper. I need to stop and recognize the right kind of wrongs I have been misunderstanding.

I can’t say I won’t fight, because I can never imagine making peace with this disease. I do, however, promise to try and play nice with others while I kick the crap out of the glucose goblins.

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A Mused

Today’s topic could not have come at a better time! As part of the 2012 Diabetes Blog Week (created and hosted by blogger Karen Graffeo @Bittersweet), participating bloggers are challenged to write about predetermined topics for selected days. Tuesday is all about the GREAT that we do for the diabetes in our life! Well, let me let you know this morning was a hell-of-a-holy-hiccup mess!!  My little  ‘sugar hero’ has yet another addition to his long growing list of health complications. So, truth be told, I have had my angry eyes on all day. I was set to impale the world with terrible, horrible, time-out-corner kind of words. Buuut I clicked on the computer and saw this shining light of Hope. Type 1 diabetes sucks. There is little more that can be said to truly capture the ‘spirit’ of this disease. Having to contend with the in’s and out’s of it at such a young age is the suckiest part of this turd. Zachary David is sensational! He is funny and wild and creative. If my boy is going to have diabetes, then gosh darn it! Diabetes is going to have some of my boy! His diagnosis has come with the absolute vow that I would never let this disease be bigger than his childhood, and it will never be any less AWESOME than he is. He WILL BE 9 years old! He WILL BE inspired!

My Zach’s broken pancreas has become my muse. What have I done for the cause!? I have made diabetes:

Customized & Cute!!

When Zach got pumped, Rufus did too. I ‘upgraded’ a simple pedometer to a pump, sewed an infusion site in, and I decorated his shirt to show Team Slap Shot spirit!! Then when the 5 year old daughter of a friend was diagnosed and given a ‘boy’ bear, I fixed that as well. Say hello to our one and only Rufulina Ballerina~ the diabetic she-bear!!

A Jive Vibe!! 

I made a request to my son’s  teacher (who is a music genius) to create our very own diabetes rap song! AND I had my oldest son perform it live at their school to show his brother support!!

Impossibly Cool!!

I contacted a friend from high school (who just happens to be an amazing artist) and encouraged him to create a one-of -a- kind HALO 4 helmet for the JDRF. It will be put on display for charity events, travel to hospitals and diabetic clinics, and ultimately be auctioned at our local chapter’s gala dinner! Once our helmet is complete (with JDRF logo and all), it will be the first and only of it’s kind. !!!!

Neurotic & Precise!!

Any and all diabetics entering my home have super special sugar spots delegated to all things diabetes. This place is pretty much the “Graceland” for Sugar Boogers. 🙂

Story Book Special!!

The Great Zach Attack is being sketched as we speak.

A Team Effort!!

I hand drew our ‘Team Slap Shots’ logo, and with the help of friends (and my husband as The Big Boss) we ‘smacked’ out 35 team shirts to support my boy! Even big brother Josh helped out with his stellar modeling skills.

There is hardly a day that doesn’t see me on the verge of pelting a small people-person with a tippy cup or shoe. But there is never EVER a day that doesn’t see me smothering them with my efforts of infinite Love. A deluge of continuous crap could pour from the Heavens onto my head all the days of my life! As long as I knew that my reach would deliver my children bigger and brighter and better days, who cares that this fight leaves me broken or scarred. A Scraped Crusader knows no other way…


Its All About a Clever Slogan…


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