Its been a busy couple of months in the cave, with adventures in New York over Christmas and New Year (in the company of an absolute hero of mine. Seriously. She’s awesome. Go read her blog), a start to the year which has seen Big take mock examinations in preparation ahead of the real thing next term, Pumplette, Small + Mr Understudy rehearsing madly for a pantomime production, and the Understudy securing paid, gainful employment, (at long last says Mr Understudy!). All of which has left precious little time for being present here and focusing on doing what i really love, which is writing and sharing some of our family’s triumphs and challenges.
Last Wednesday was Pumplette’s diaversary. This diaversary date was initially my prompt to start this blog. T1D is now a teenager in this house. I have, all too often at times in the past 13 years, felt that Pumplette’s T1 is somehow sentient. The ability of T1 to throw a curve ball in at the most inopportune moments seems to be nothing short of a deliberate act of defiance by a condition that can be more irritating than a man with tiny orange hands & access to multiple Twitter accounts.
Want to go out for an evening with your friends to THAT party that EVERYONE will be at? No problem. Except wait. Back up this fabulously made up show. T1 is about to present you with raging high bgs. Which is going to impact on your dancing. Because now you’ll look like you just need to pee whilst you’re dancing, because, quite frankly, you will really need to pee. All the pee! So your helpful mother supports your impatient, rage correction solution to this irritating pee-dance-situation, and then, wouldn’t you know it? Just at the point where the need to pee passes (and not into a puddle on the floor), you’re looking on point, with make up on fleek, there is an infinitesimally teeny, tiny, nano second, where ALL the dancing may occur, before the plummet. Which, of course, you style out by eating ALL the crisps and sweets laid out on the buffet. Yay. Except then come the high blood sugars again. And so we repeat. All the above. What fun!
And yet, I have spent well over a decade watching Pumplette navigate her way through all these curve balls T1D periodically decides to lob in her direction. A side step here, a glaring look there, the ability to intuitively respond to situations, often resulting in the outcomes that she wants and sometimes ending up in a steeper learning curve than we would like her to have to endure. All of this shows me just how unrelenting Pumplette will always be when it comes to shabby behaviour by T1. I applaud her fabulous resolve and energy. The way she keeps moving, never letting T1 get in an ‘easy’ hit.
So as I have yet another teenage resident in the cave, I reflect with pride, the amazing skill and style Pumplette has developed and displays when it comes to managing her T1. If only I felt that T1 would actually grow up one day and give her a bit of break. One can only hope……
Our sons were not T1 so I do not have a valid comparison, but my general rule of thumb is that it is best to wave goodbye at 13 and hope they are still talking to you at 18. Actually, I do suggest keeping the baby pictures close. It will remind you of how adorable they were. I am pretty certain it saved my sons at least twice from their parents.