If I wrote a screenplay with the above title, I wonder if I would have copyright issues...
Last night our family attended my oldest son’s music concert at the high school. Our entire family came out in force. Not only did my husband and I go with all of our boys, but so did both sets of grandparents.
Ryan and I were the last in the auditorium, and as I went to meet my family, I found my mother in law sitting next to my favorite D Mom in town, (who is also my favorite coffee/hot chocolate date.)
As we chatted about the kids, my three diabetics wrangled some dollar bills from my husband, and went to the bake sale to get some goodies. (Something that would hopefully keep them happy for part of the long concert that was ahead of us.)
L came back with a little cupcake.
J came back with a medium size cupcake.
B came back with a blueberry muffin. A sensible choice one would think…except it wasn’t…this muffin was as big as his head.
My d friend and I laughed. A comfortable, knowing laugh. Then we traded guesses on the carb amounts of this mondo-sized muffin.
We decided on 80g, but I only gave B the go ahead to eat half of it. Which he did. Meticulously nibbling and trying to get it to exactly half.
He ended up going low less than an hour later…maybe due to the fact that this muffin was actually 71 carbs…but probably more due to the fact that I over bloused him for the pot roast I made that night.
So he ate it all.
And to watch this boy eat it was like watching a cat catch a mouse. The joy was undeniable.
Also undeniable was the overwhelming feeling I had sitting next to my friend last night. I felt warm….I felt good…
I felt NORMAL.
Generally sitting in a group like that, I don’t feel like I fit in. I’m not the same as these people. My life is complicated. But last night it was different. I wasn’t conscious of the blood sugar monitor I had clipped to my belt loop…I fit in. Isn’t that why we cry when we get Christmas cards from other D moms? Because for a moment, we fit in. These D moms live similar lives…they more than anyone know what our days are like, and although we are not misfits by any means…there is always an underlying emotion that those in our communities don’t 100% know us, or anything of the constant worry that sits with us.
We can blend in…but fitting in is another story.
We are the Sisterhood of the traveling pancreas…or pancreata, (or pancreases…They both show to be correct in the online dictionaries. :)
We are a special breed.
We are mobile pancreata…now, how many people can say that?