And That's All I Have to Say About That.

Thoughts swirling.
Senseless.
Tears come and go.
Mainly, I can't make sense of it, so I just don't.

Will the date today be significant, or just the event?   The date a mentally ill man went into a school and killed a bunch of innocent children. My Facebook wall is ablaze with prayers, condolences, grieving, sadness, calls for less guns, calls for more guns, calls for better health care, calls for compassion for people with mental illnesses, people trying to make sense of a nonsensical situation...everyone wishing there was SOMETHING else we could be consumed with today...anything but what actually happened, because the horrificness of it is too much for any of us to comprehend.

So then I start to think.  My mind wanders and I contemplate that while today's events were absolutely, without question horrific, tragic, and in all ways unnecessary...I wonder how many other people died today.  How many other children died this week of gang violence, of cancer, of parental neglect, of things unnecessary and unexplainable.  What deaths are explainable?  Old age, I suppose...but pretty much any other time someone dies, it seems that it's pretty tragic and without sense.  This event was monumental in its scope, but does that make individual tragedies less important?  How many children have to die in one place at one time before it becomes a national concern?  I'm pretty sure every mom mourning their baby, whether in Connecticut  or in Children's Hospital, or wherever they may be, they all wail the same question at the universe: "why??"
Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to negate the devastation we are all feeling over this. I've just started thinking so hard about everyone ELSE, everyone NOT in Connecticut, who lost a child today, and wondering what they must be thinking.  No doubt they are as shocked by the news as the rest of us, but is there resentment?  Is there any "Hey, my kid died too!" going on?  I can't imagine that there wouldn't be.  This is where my mind is.  Everyone is sending prayers and love and thoughts of peace and advice on how to make sure this doesn't happen again...but my thoughts are also with the rest of the world population, in which there were undoubtedly other deaths today, other senseless tragedies, like those that happen every single day.  It'd be paralyzing to focus on that on a daily basis, but I think it's important to remember that as awful as today was, and as horribly sick as we all feel knowing what happened...that there are other people who are going through their own version of hell today, and maybe sending some of those prayers and messages of love to everyone affected by tragedies would be appreciated across the board.  Just a thought.

Carpe the freaking Diem

It's been 11 years, 10 months, and 9 days since I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes.  Tomorrow, after years of being able to control my disease with diet, exercise, and sometimes oral medication, I will be put on insulin.  My life, as I know it, will change forever.
I've been on insulin before...as a Diabetic, the moment I became pregnant, I was immediately put on insulin.  Say what you will about Kaiser, but their preventative medicine protocol is amazing.  I was carefully monitored and bore 2 beautiful, healthy children, one at 6lbs 9 oz, one at 7lbs, 5 oz...a fact I'm incredibly proud of.  I took insulin 3 times a day and checked my blood sugar 7 times a day and controlled every morsel that went into my mouth so that my babies would have the best shot at being healthy. 

In November of 2000, I suffered a miscarriage.  We were living in Baltimore at the time, far from friends and family, and it was incredibly hard.  I went to a new obgyn to make sure everything was in order following that experience, and as I sat in his office after the examination, he told me I was "absolutely perfect", something that made superstitious me very uncomfortable.  Sure enough, his office called back the next day to tell me that, as it turned out, there was sugar in my urine and I needed to go see a real doctor to see what was going on.  I made an appointment, and was asked to fast before coming in, which wouldn't have been so bad, except my appointment wasn't until 2pm, and they kept me waiting 90 minutes before seeing me, so I was a bit of a shaky mess by the time I went in.  The doctor came in, stuck my finger, checked my sugar on a little machine, and said "Yep, you're diabetic."  Not understanding completely the way diabetes worked, I didn't understand how a drop of blood could make that determination, and so quickly.  So I asked "Are you sure?  How do you know?" And he said (not nicely) that my blood sugar was 177 (normal fasting should be between 60-90 for a non diabetic) and that they didn't need to do any more tests, it was clear.  Then I asked if it was type 1 or type 2 (I was 27 and had a friend who had been diagnosed with type 1 at 28, so I thought it was a valid question).  He laughed and said "It's type 2.  Look at you."  The horrors of the rest of that day and what followed in the journey to being in control of my Diabetes is in and of itself a saga, but I survived.  I pulled through it, I learned (A LOT) and I did what I needed to do (with a lot of tears and frustration on the way). 

As time passed, it's been a lot of ups and downs.  Lately, it's been a lot of downs.  Diabetes isn't fun.  A friend of mine who suffered through terrible cancer once said she preferred having cancer, cause at least she could fight it and be done with it.  People don't judge you for having cancer (unless maybe you're a smoker)...but OH the judgement that comes along with being a diabetic.  Especially type 2.  I don't like to tell people I have it, because I have enough issues with people judging what I eat (and I'm not just talking my grandma) that I don't need to give anyone more ammunition.  And I am sure that most people mean well, but until you've gone through it, you don't know how it feels, and it's not an easy thing.  But all of that changes tomorrow...because tomorrow I go on insulin. 

Over the last few months, the effectiveness of my oral meds has decreased.  I've lost over 30 pounds in the last year, in an effort to "help" and it's actually gotten worse.  My doctor, my cousin (a doctor), and I have all reached the same conclusion...the next step is insulin...and while I'm ok with it on a technical level, needles don't scare me, the process is a PITA, but it's not the end of the world...the concept of it has been really hard.  The hardest part is that I can't keep it a secret anymore.  People have to know now.  I hate this the very most.  I haven't even told my parents yet.  (It's a good thing they don't read my blog). 

I know I will be fine, and I will rise to the challenge and fight back this stupid treason my body is inacting on me...and I be successful.  But it's another hill to climb, one that people will try to tell me how to climb, one that I will occasionally stumble upon, one that I don't even want to climb...but I know I have to because the alternative would suck.

Apples and Trees and Somesuch

Magnolia is going through a rough spell.  She's 10, she's tall, she's smart, she's bigger than a lot of her friends (in kind of a tall and solid sort of way), she's not super graceful, and she's perceptive enough to notice these things and be sensitive about them.  She's also smart enough where her brain starts going and going and often rushes to judgement in a very negative way (usually, bearing the brunt of the negativity, as self induced psychological trauma) (ie- Those kids decided to play tag, but no one specifically invited me to play tag so they don't want me to play tag with them, and actually, come to think of it, I don't think they like me at all...no, I think they hate me and they are mocking me with their tag playing!!).  It's exhausting, heart breaking, and sometimes, really freaking annoying. 

So, when this kid comes home with a story where she actually faces down issues straight on, I praise, I cheer, I exhalt her into the stratosphere, because I'm SO excited she didn't go to the timid negative place, I can't even help myself.  

A few weeks ago, Magnolia heard me finish the Pledge of Allegiance with "...with liberty and justice for some", which is how I always finish it.  She asked me why I had said that, and I told her that until there is marriage equality, among other issues, I just plain don't agree with saying "for all".  Evidently, she copied me in class today, and in her words, "I was maybe a little loud about it".  I asked her what happened and she said her teacher "whipped her head around and said "why did you say THAT?  That isn't how we finish the pledge!"  So I asked "and then what happened?" And she said, "well, I said that my family is in favor of gay marriage being legalized and it's not fair to say "for all" until that happens", which evidently resulted in significant classroom snickering.  I am pretty sure my chest swelled up even more than usual.  I told her she was awesome.  I asked her how she felt about it, and she said that she felt pretty amazing.  I told her that this issue is the civil rights issue of our time, and that just like the civil rights leaders who fought for women's rights, and African American rights, she was encountering resistance by her peers...but that she was making the decision to do so because it was the right thing to do, despite it not being the popular thing to do.  I told her repeatedly that I was proud of her and had her repeat the story for Michael, who echoed my sentiments. 

So, you know, I'll take the kid who takes things too personally and who assumes the worst sometimes...cause I also have the kid who stands up for the things that she knows are right, and who does it despite being ACTUALLY mocked.  I'm often proud of my kids, but tonight, I was ready to buy her a pony.  Please, don't tell her that.  I don't want to have to take care of a pony.

WTF, day?

Ok, I know it's been awhile, but eh.  If I spend time explaining what has kept me from writing, I'll be too tired to actually write, so let's sum up with "life happened". 

I just came home to a baggie of dog poop sitting in my driveway, centered right on the line between the sidewalk and the driveway...a little pink baggie -tied neatly at the top...of shit.  Now, rather than take it as a personal attack or a sign of the demise of society at large, as was my initial desire...I decided to decide it was an accident or oversight, picked it up and threw it away.  Frankly, I'd had my fill of insane conspiracy theories at the school Title One meeting I attended this morning, and after over an hour of watching the poor principal and coordinator try to fend off attacks by parents too stupid to know what to do with the tiny bit of information they have, and the tiny fraction of that they understand...I wasn't ready to declare this bag of poo as war on my house.  Even though it was so neatly centered, it seems impossible that it just tumbled accidentally there, I made the decision to let it go. 

Not 1 minute after I entered the house, Jehovah's Witnesses came to the door.  My desk is situated such that generally, when people come to the door, I can freeze and then avoid being seen and thus avoid answering the door completely, but I wasn't REALLY in the mood to ignore people anymore.  Oh, poor JWs. 

I opened the door to the very nice looking African American and Causasian lady, mentally checking "pretend you don't speak Spanish" off my list of how I usually get rid of these folks...and contemplated my options.  I've done the "we're Jewish" route...I've done the "listen until they are done talking, take the watchtower, thank them and tell them I'll think about it" route, I've even done the "No thank you, we worship satan...slam door" route, when I'm feeling particularly feisty.  What would it be today?  (rubs hands together gleefully)

The lovely African American lady is the talker...and she starts off with the "Hi, so sorry to bother you, I know we weren't expected right now, I'm sure you're busy" spiel, and I'm still thinking..."do we worship Satan today?" She starts to pull her watchtower out of her bag, saying that they wanted to talk to me today about some very important things...and I decide I'm too bushed (bushed?  really?  that's a word?  Wait, no...I don't think it is.  Beat?  I'm too beat.  Yes, that sounds better) to let this go any farther, so I interrupt her, with my most pleasant, smiley face and say "Oh, you know what?  Thank you SO MUCH for coming by, but we're just not interested."  Keep it simple, right?  Her face hardens a little and she says "No?  Well, are you interested in a little word called ARMAGEDDON?"  I blink a couple of times, contemplating my options now.  And what I land on is "Actually, we are Pagan.  We practice a nature based, goddess based religion.  We're comfortable with it, and we are, in fact, not worried about Armageddon."  Her turn to blink.  I turn back and forth, ping pong style, to both of them with my very best Stepford Wife face, wondering where it might go from here.  (To be fair, we don't "practice" anything...our families are Jewish and Catholic and new agey bohemian and we're identified spiritual Agnostics with Pagan leanings...HEY!  Maybe I should have said THAT!) 

Caucasian lady says, smiling:  "I saw you walk up the path."  I smile, still Stepford Wife style, wondering where this is going.  I notice the watchtower is being tucked back into the bag of the other one. She continues "And I see you made quilts?  Your van says something about quilting." I continue to smile and say, "yes, I do make quilts."  She asks if I crochet them, and I explain that no, they are sewn.  She asks if it's like "on the tv, with the patches and things" and I say yes.  I'm still completely unsure of where this is going.  African American lady says that her grandma used to be a quilter, and how much do I charge for a queen sized quilt...and all of a sudden I realize that they have DROPPED my salvation!  I am officially off the hook!  I chat with them for a few minutes, answering their questions about whether or not I'm in a Quilt Guild (no), how the business is going (just fine), and if I like my kids' school (yes)...and then they thank me and they leave. 

I headed back into the house, my mind swirling about the events of the last 3 hours, wondering how religious zealots can be so lovely, and neighbors so inconsiderate/absentminded, and fellow parents so horribly WRONG...and I have no real conclusions.  The world is a funny place.  And it's not even noon yet.