The Flower

Supermodel and I signed up for a weight loss competition.  It's more of an accountability program at our local gym.  Your name goes on a board and remains there as long as you lose one pound a week.  If you don't lose a pound, your name is removed.  Obviously people with more weight to lose will have their name on the board longer and win the prize. [I don't know what the prize is.]  We each have five holiday pounds to lose, so we thought it might motivate us to be more disciplined for the next month or two.  We were weighed last Friday and our weights recorded - privately.

I was shocked.  I think I'm turning into a man because I'm in denial.  Instead of acknowledging that I'd put on a few pounds, I was certain that the gym scale was inaccurate.  Supermodel and I both double-checked our weight at home and have determined that the gym scale adds two pounds.  Whatever.  It's just a point of reference.

This morning marked week one.  We decided we'd do a treadmill workout and sweat off a few ounces before being weighed.  We started walking at a slow speed to warm-up.

I said, "I'm worried.  I ate well yesterday, but I might have overdone the fiber - lentils and brown rice.  Sometimes it can bind me up.  My bathroom routine wasn't normal this morning.  I might not make my pound.  BUT, I weighed myself yesterday [at the gym] and I was one pound lighter.  The rules say you can weigh-in Thursday or Friday.  I'll use yesterday's weight if I fail today.  Do you think that's cheating?"

"No.  I'm worried too.  I ate chili yesterday - a small portion - but something's not right."

We walked and looked straight ahead at the televisions.  I felt my lower abdomen.

Rubbing my stomach, I said, "Look.  I'm bloated.  Even when I carry extra weight, my stomach's relatively flat.  That's totally a bowel movement.  I can't go here though.  The bathroom's in the middle of the gym.  I feel like I have an audience."

Supermodel bent forward and tried to look at my bloated stomach.  I turned towards her, slightly lifted my t-shirt and pulled the top of my shorts down to reveal my belly button and lower abdomen.  I was careful... for a reason.

"Did you get another tattoo?  Is that a tattoo on your stomach?  When did you do that?"

"What?" [I was playing deaf.]

"When did you do that?"

"Huh?"

"When. Did. You. Do. That?" [She made eye contact, enunciated, spoke loudly and mouthed precisely in case I needed to read her lips.]

I lifted my shirt and let her get a good, but quick look.  "I'm not telling."

She grinned and laughed a bit.  She didn't compliment the flower, but didn't condemn me for having it either.  [Reminder:  I live in a VERY conservative area of Utah.  Tattoos aren't a big deal, but here in Mayberry where the worst graffiti I've seen said "DILDO", very few mother's my age have ink.]

"You know what Toddler Child calls this one?  The Special Mommy Flower.  If I'm sitting down, he requests OPEN YOUR FLOWER, which means he wants me to sit-up so he can see the entire thing.  For a while he thought all mom's had a flower on their stomach, so I told him only the special ones do.  He says he wants a Special Mommy Flower when he grows up."  [Nervous laughter.]

Supermodel listened to me babble, and just grinned.  "So, when did you do that?"

"Not telling."

We finished our workout, I never had a BM at the gym, and we both lost a pound.  I'm glad it's Friday.

[Taken myself in my dusty mirror.]

He Just Wanted to Say "Suck"

Oldest Boy and Middle Boy are in Arizona visiting my parents for a few days.  Their school dismissed them at noon last Friday for a two-week spring break.  We all need it.  We're trying to conserve money and minimize stress, so we chose not to take a family vacation.  Oldest Boy and Middle Boy were happy with the alternative we presented.  The chance to fly solo to see their grandparents, and enjoy valuable and rare one-on-one time.  The boys love it, and so do my parents.  The boys follow our rules better than Mom and Dad though.

Mom particularly enjoys pushing the limit.  She never does anything terrible, but things she knows we'd probably not do.  I don't know why she enjoys this so much.  For example, when Oldest Boy was six he was into marbles.  She said she had the perfect bag for him to store and carry his marbles.  A velvet, Crown Royal bag.  He didn't know what it was, but Mom loved the idea of a little boy carrying around a Crown Royal bag.  He still has it.

Before they were out of diapers, the boys were saying "Salud!" and trying to clink their sippy cups with other kids, thanks to Mom. 

They came home from an Arizona visit last summer with a picture of a dead snake.  Mom saw a coyote walking behind their property with the snake it's mouth.  She and the boys followed the coyote and when it dropped the dead rattlesnake, Mom took a picture of the chewed-on snake corpse for their scrapbook.  Cute.

Toddler Child declares anything gross or unpleasant, "Caca!  Kay-Kay says so!"  [The kids call Mother Kay-Kay after her attempts to have Oldest Boy call her "Nana Kaye Anna" failed.]

I called Mom and Dad's house yesterday to see how things were going.  Oldest Boy told me they were watching the movie Gremlins on television.  They'd never seen it and he was enjoying it.  Middle Boy shared the same information, but could hardly contain himself when he said, "Guess what channel the movie's on, Mom?  It's called Movies That Don't Suck."

"Hey.  You just wanted to say 'suck'."

"No, Mom.  That's what it's called.  Really."

The boys and I said our goodbyes, then Mother got back on the phone.  "Middle Boy could hardly wait to tell me about the channel Movies That Don't Suck."

"Well... that is what it's called, Honey.  There's one of those little logos on the bottom of the screen."

"Just so you know... we prefer the kids not say 'suck'."

I heard her sigh heavily, and I'm certain her eyeballs rolled back as she said, "All right.

Blindside vs. Knowing... Both Hurt

Oldest Boy has type 1 diabetes.  He was diagnosed 03.03.03 in the ER of Primary Children's Hospital in Salt Lake City, Utah, at the age of five.  It was devastating, but we're thankful he's healthy and managing the disease responsibly.

Because of Oldest Boy's diagnosis it's not uncommon for me to check the blood sugar of Middle Boy, Toddler Child, Chris, me, and any other friend or family member.  Usually... all is well.

Middle Boy gave us a scare almost three years ago with a blood sugar near 200.  Normal is 80 to 120, roughly.  I assumed type 1 had hit him, but it had not.  Per a recommendation from Oldest Boy's  endocrinologist, we discussed with Middle Boy participating in a clinical trial for relatives of people with type 1 diabetes.  Middle Boy agreed to participate in a TrialNet Study [with our guidance, support, and input] after discovering his body is producing two of three autoantibodies that predict the onset of type 1 diabetes.  We know the freight train is heading his way.  It blindsided us with Oldest Boy.  This time we see it coming.  We can't change it's course, but we can brace emotionally for the impact.

Through the TrialNet Study, we've been monitoring Middle Boy's pancreas for two and a half years.  He consents to biannual tests requiring an IV, fasting, and a few hours of mild discomfort to see how his pancreas is performing.  We typically leave the hospital reminded that his pancreas is sputtering, but he remains diabetes free.  Stressful?  Yes.  Does it provide valuable information to researchers, ultimately helping the diabetic community?  Yes.  Does Middle Boy choose to do this?  Yes.  He receives $50 each time he participates - from the Study.  He also loves his brother and believes what he's doing will help people with diabetes and their future children and grandchildren.  Not written as a prideful mother - it's the truth.

Wednesday was a test day.  The preliminary results were bad.  We've known for some time now that Middle Boy was standing in the path of the freight train.  It's always seemed abstract - far away.  It's getting closer.  Faster.  It's painful and sad.

He does not have type 1 diabetes... today, but his blood sugars indicate it's very close.  Doctors have been wrong in the past.  We hope and pray that Middle Boy will be the exception... the miracle.  He has an appointment - as does his brother - with an endocrinologist in a couple of weeks.  One of the benefits of watching the disease approach is Middle Boy might be able to get by on a small, daily, dose of insulin to give his healthy cells a break.  It's possible he can avoid taking insulin with food for a longer period of time.  We'll see.

 

The doctor who oversees the study reviewed Wednesday's results and explained the implications.  We shared everything with Middle Boy, and called Chris who was home with Toddler Child.  Middle Boy cried.  His father and I cried.  BUT, we all reminded ourselves that he does NOT have type 1 diabetes on THIS day.

Let's go out for lunch, buy some clothes at Old Navy, gawk at the Apple Store, hit Toys-R-Us so you can spend your $50, and let's get a milkshake at Ben and Jerry's.  TODAY we don't have needles or insulin.  This is good!

While eating lunch at his favorite Asian restaurant, Middle Boy broke several moments of silence saying, "Mom, I thought about some of the things you've said.  I think you're right.  [About simply enjoying today.]  It's like what Helen Keller says about appreciating your senses.  She says, *'Smell a flower today, like you might not smell it tomorrow'.  That's what I'm going to do."

I said, "You're a bright boy... "

*NOTE:  He remembered the gist of what Helen Keller wrote at the end of her essay Three Days to See.

I who am blind can give one hint to those who see - one
admonition to those who would make full use of the gift of
sight: Use your eyes as if tomorrow you would be stricken
blind. And the same method can be applied to other senses.
Hear the music of voices, the song of a bird, the mighty
strains of an orchestra, as if you would be stricken deaf
to-morrow. Touch each object you want to touch as if tomorrow
your tactile sense would fail. Smell the perfume of flowers,
taste with relish each morsel, as if tomorrow you could never
smell and taste again. Make the most of every sense; glory in
all the facets of pleasure and beauty which the world reveals
to you through the several means of contact which Nature
provides. But of all the senses, I am sure that sight must be
the most delightful.

Published in the Atlantic Monthly, January 1933.