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Posts tagged ‘Birdy’

Birdy the Kid and Jerry the Bear.

“Jerry has diabetes, like you do, mom.  So I give him food and insulin and check his blood sugar and he likes to play archery.”

A brief pause as Birdy rand her hands over Jerry’s soft bear ears.

“Mom, what’s archery?”


A photo posted by Kerri Sparling (@sixuntilme) on

[Disclosure:  Jerry was a gift from Hannah to Birdy.  We did not purchase Jerry.]

Yesterday, Hannah Chung from Sproutel kindly visited Birdzone and I to drop off a new friend for my daughter:  Jerry the Bear.  Jerry is a stuffed animal bear who has type 1 diabetes, and part of snuggling him and playing with him can also include checking his blood sugar by pressing a button on his paw.  Developed to help kids make sense of their own diabetes diagnosis, Jerry helps normalize diabetes by being a kindred spirit who also needs insulin and glucose tabs. 

He’s a stuffed animal who happens to have diabetes.  Similar to how I’m a mom who happens to have diabetes.

And that’s exactly how I want my daughter to learn about life with diabetes, with the constant, comfortable caveat that diabetes provides a to-do list, but it can be done.  And it can be fun.

Birdy knows quite a bit about diabetes, but mostly the brass tacks sort of stuff.  She likes to press the button on my lancing device (though she’s always surprised when a drop of blood comes out – “Does that hurt, Mom?”  “No, kiddo.”  “Are you sure?  Because I see blood.”), she prides herself on selecting the spot for my insulin pump infusion set, and she has a solid grasp on the meaning of the sounds ringing out from my Dexcom.

What she and I have not discussed, however, is what so many of the numbers mean.  She knows that my glucose meter gives me numbers of some kind and that I respond to them with certain sets of actions, but the numbers aren’t in context.  165 means the same at 50 means the same as 433 … nothing.  They are just numbers, or at least they were, until yesterday.  Yesterday, through her interactions with Jerry, Birdy learned what “high” and “low” look like as glucose numbers.

“Jerry is high.  See?  His number is one-seven-six.  He has to pee.  I need to give him some water and some insulin,” she said to me yesterday and she and Jerry were coloring at the kitchen table.

“Oh yeah?  So what will you do, then?”

“Mom, I already said I will give him insulin.  And some water.  I know what I’m doing.”

“Okay then,” and I turned away so she couldn’t see me smirking.

Later in the afternoon, she asked me how many glucose tabs she needed to give to Jerry if his blood sugar was low.

“How many do I usually take?” I asked her.

“You stack them up on the counter.  You take four.  Is four right, mom?”

(And this is where she teaches me something  – I do stack up the glucose tabs on the counter before I eat them.  I take out a set number and make sure I eat precisely what I take out, to help avoid over-treating and to also help protect me from forgetting to eat enough in the flurry of a hypoglycemic episode.)

“Yes, four should do it.”

“Okay.”  She “feeds” Jerry four glucose tabs and checks his blood sugar.  “Oh, I fixed it.  He’s not low anymore.”  She smiles, satisfied.  “Hey, do you know that if I smush his fur down and draw my finger through it, I can make eyebrows for Jerry?”

I want her to continue to draw eyebrows on Jerry.  Just because his little stuffed pancreas doesn’t splutter the way it should doesn’t mean he should have weak eyebrow game, yeah?

As she learns, I want her to feel safe and feel protected, empowered to ask and to help.  Resources like Jerry aren’t just for kids with diabetes, but for kids touched by diabetes on all levels.  I want my daughter to learn about my diabetes absent discussions about complications, fear, and pity.  I want her to see type 1 diabetes in the context of my actual life, which is filled with joy and chaos unrelated to my health.  She should know about this health condition because it’s part of what I do every day, and part of what she does, too, after a fashion.

Because it’s not about diabetes; it’s about life.

Burninating the Peasants.

Her consummate V’s were spot-on, and once she drops that second arm and beefs up the first one, I think she’s got a good grip on the Trogdor. (She spent the car ride to the zoo working on her “What’s that dragon’s name again? Oh yeah – TROGDOR! He does the burninating, right, Mom?”)

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Someone is a little obsessed with Trogdor. #consummatevs

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For your reference and because it’s so timelessly awesome:

That’s it. :)

Recreating the Pee Alarm.

Birdy has this “learn about how electrical circuits work!” toy, and she plays with it endlessly.  I thought we had built every plan in the book that came with the game until she busted out this page yesterday:

And once we built it, I realized we had recreated the “pee alarm” that my parents used when I was very young, when the first symptoms of diabetes started to present themselves.

“Can we take this apart now and build a different one?” I asked her, the noise of the pee alarm making me feel like I was in first grade all over again.

“Sure, Mom.  But why?”

I started to explain, and then realized some things are better left unsaid.  (But clearly not unblogged.)

Bike Ride.

In one, frantic breath as we prepared to go for a bike ride, Birdy proclaims:

“We need to put a bottle of water in the bike basket and a snack in case I get hungry and a snack in case you get hungry or if you have a low blood sugar and your glucose meter and the glucose tabs in case you have a low blood sugar for real and in case I want to have one – that’s a joke, Mom, but really I can have a teeny, teeny bite if I want one, right? – and I will wear my helmet and you can walk while I ride on my bike and I’ll keep my eyes forward so I don’t fall off.”

Our version of “going for a bike ride” might sound complicated, but we do our thing and we do it well.

Gluten-Free Pizza Crust for the Epically Lazy.

[Insert whole paragraph about how I hate to cook/am bad at cooking/have no interest in cooking/would rather paint the deck.]

I don’t normally do anything resembling a “food review” because that’s not my bag (baby).  But I’m lazy when it comes to preparing food, so if I stumble across something that makes being a lazy chef even easier, well then hot diggity damn I am going to post about it.

BEHOLD!!  It’s a generic, “Acme Pizza” looking box, but the contents are wonderful.  This is gluten-free pizza crust and it’s legitimately delicious.  Kinnikinnick, your tagline is accurate.

I can’t say the name of it out loud without feeling like I’m casting a spell, but this pizza crust is worth writing about because it crisps up nicely, is thick enough to hold a pile of toppings, and when you bite into it, you don’t wish it was something else.  Birdy and I have experimented with several gluten-free dough options (not because of celiac, but due to preference) and this Kinnikinnick pre-made pizza crust has been the best one we’ve found so far.

“This pizza is good, Mom!”

I agreed.

[This is not an advertisement, or a sponsored post.  This post is the result of going to Whole Foods, spending eight billion dollars, and for once not regretting it.  Again, friends share.  So I'm sharing.  :) ]

Put On Your Listening Ears.

Our backyard is big and lovely and fenced in on all sides so that when Birdy and I are playing outside, we’re both safe from cars and giant woodland creatures (except the ones that can shimmy underneath the fence … I’m looking at you, groundhog).  I don’t keep my eyes glued to her while she plays, and we can enjoy the sunshine and the garden without feeling paranoid about passing cars, wandering off, etc.

Which is exactly what sucks about the front yard, because that’s the part of the house that the road is closest to.  So while I still need to do things in the front yard (getting the mail, tending the front garden, drawing hopscotch in the driveway), I don’t do anything of those things without having Birdzone front and center in both my mind and my actual line of sight.

Yesterday evening, Birdy and I were working in the front yard garden (I was clearing out some weeds and she was making “houses” for worms we discovered underneath a rock), when my Dexcom started wailing from my pocket.  In retrospect, I felt a little “off,” but it wasn’t until I heard the low alarm blaring from the Dexcom receiver that the symptoms kicked in fully.

“Hey, your blood sugar is whoa, Mom,” Birdy said absently, placing another worm onto a pile of dirt.

“Yeah, we need to go inside and get some snacks, okay?  It’s important,” I replied, looking at the “UNDER 65 MG/DL” warning on the Dexcom screen.

Normally, she listens.  Especially when it’s about blood sugars, because Chris and I have talked with her a few times about how listening is important, particularly when I tell her my blood sugar is low.  But she wanted to stay outside.  She liked playing with the worms.  She liked being in the dirt and gardening.  She didn’t want to have to cut playtime short because Mommy needed a few glucose tabs that she should have brought outside with her in the first place.  [Insert Mom Guilt here.]

“Nooooo waaaaaaay!!!” she said, flouncing away from me and refusing to turn around.

Under normal circumstances, I would have laughed (because “No way!” is a great response), but I was starting to feel shaky and my brain cells connections felt loose, like thoughts weren’t coupling up the right way.  We were in the front yard and I knew I needed to gain control of all potentially dangerous situations in a hurry.

“We need.  To go.  INSIDE right now.  My blood sugar is low.  This is not a joke.” I said.

“No!  I don’t waaaaaaant to!!”

My blood sugar falls fast.  It always has.  I don’t get the long, lingering slides towards hypoglycemia but instead the quick, breathless plummets.  Knowing that I was dropping and watching yet another car drive by our house meant I needed to get control fast and without issue.

Before my body completely caved to the low blood sugar, I scooped up my flailing daughter and walked into the house.  She was freaking out and still forcefully asserting her right to “NOOOO!” but I needed sugar more than I needed her to like me.  A few seconds later, we were both safely contained in the kitchen.  I had a few glucose tabs and waited for my brain to acknowledge them.  Birdy pouted in the corner, staring at her hands and still mumbling, “No way.”

A few minutes later, I felt more human.  “Birdy, I’m sorry we had to come inside.  But my blood sugar was low and it could have become an emergency.  So that’s why you needed to put your listening ears on and come inside.  I wasn’t doing it to be mean; I was doing it to be safe.  Does that make sense?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t stay outside.  But we can go back out now, okay?”

“Okay.  I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”

“It’s okay.”

She turned around and pressed her hand into mine.  Something wriggled.  She smiled.

“I brought a worm inside.”

No way.

 

Ironic Baking.

Earlier this week, Birdzone asked if we could bake some bread.  (We’ve been baking bread for her since she was very small, avoiding gluten for the first 15 months of her life and becoming gluten-free bakers, after a fashion, for a year or two.)  Now, thanks to a bread machine that makes baking bread easier, we whip up random recipes.  Birdy likes measuring the flour and whisking the eggs, and the bread machine makes it easy to dump in the prepared ingredients and watch the magic (slowly) happen.

Examining the basket of almost-overripe fruit on the kitchen table, we decided to make a play for apple-banana bread, per her request.  (“Mom, can we take those gross bananas and make banana bread?  And add an apple that’s not as gross?”)

The recipe we made was a version of this one at All Recipes (a site I frequently look at but infrequently follow through on), only we doctored it up a bit:

ingredients:

2 cups gluten-free all purpose baking flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
3/4 cup applesauce
1/2 cup white sugar
3 eggs
3 mashed bananas
1 apple, diced

directions.

*  Since we baked this in a bread machine, we didn’t need to preheat the oven.  Instead, we just plugged in the bread machine and prepped it for the “gluten-free” setting.

*  In a big bowl, we combined the flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar together and mixed it up.  We didn’t mix it gently because Birdy was doing most of the stirring, so I also can’t guarantee that all of the ingredients stayed in the bowl.  The countertop was a bit dusty when she was done.

*  In a separate bowl, we whisked together the eggs and apple sauce (the original recipe called for butter, but we usually sub in applesauce instead), and then dumped the wet ingredients into the bowl of dry ones.

*  Then we mashed the eff out of those bananas and added in the diced apple bits.  (“Why didn’t we mash the apple, Mom?” she kept asking me, because she wanted to take a Sledge-O-Matic to it a la Gallagher.)

*  Once everything was combined, we shuttled the mix into the bread machine pan and let it stir-then-bake for the assigned time.  When it was done, it was very dense and moist (ew word, but appropriate) and tasted awesome.  The addition of the extra fruit made for about 38 grams of carb per slice (ish), but it was worth it because it tasted awesome.

I’m not much of a cook when it comes to making things that are healthy, but I can bake the hell out of anything, which is sadly ironic for this PWD.  Essentially, I can cook what I would do best not to eat on a regular basis.  And this bread was a winner on that front.

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