It’s time, guys! Thanks for hanging out with me. I don’t mean to be trite- five years ago when Ben was first diagnosed I couldn’t imagine the next day. There was nothing. Nobody. Me and a sick baby and not so much information on how to take care of him. And now here we are. Devices galore, every now and then a night of uninterrupted sleep, full days of school for Ben…. And more than doctors, friends, or family, it has been other parents of these kids (some are friends too, thank you, thank you, thank you), and the blogging parents (thank you), who have shepherded me through this so far. Also- thank you blogging adults with T1D for helping me see the future. And making me sort of want to cry and reminding me why Ben needs to be a lady-killer.
I still devour their blogs, but mine is not really relevant anymore, at least not for its initial purpose. I have a big kid now. I am in the long process of handing over the reins. And now I’m in graduate school (nutrition), so time is tight. Tighter. But I have so much to saaaaayyyy still. Maybe will resurrect this old thing in a year or two. A more professional version. Perhaps with less swearing (though the complaints about my language stopped when I told my mother she was no longer allowed to read my blog). Maybe we can dig deeper into how gluten really is the root of all evil. Or discuss the Autoimmune Protocol (this last year I lost the ability to eat most food groups without ill effect. Thanks, life!) Or take a moment to talk about PTSD. How is unconscious fear shaping how you live? We CAN make new neural pathways. Just need some orgasms (grab a partner- or not)– or some magic mushrooms, they’ll do the job too.
Mainly, the time has come for me to be more of a guide for Ben. Outside of diabetes. Yeah, I spend every day making diabetes my bitch, but apparently there’s more to this parenting thing. Like all the rest. When he was first born I had a simplified idea of how to raise him- teach him to be nice to animals and to read a lot of good books. Those two umbrella rules should take care of a lot more….
And spiritually, what to say? His early manifestations of my own ambivalence, e.g., “When someone cuts down a tree, the tooth fairy cries,” were cute and funny, but it’s getting more serious. As he wrestles with my mortality (ease up kid, please tell me this is just a normal kid stage, and you’re not some kind of cancer-sniffing dog) and his own, explanations are getting really complicated. I vacillate between stories of a potential heaven and scientific explanations of how we never just disappear; we decompose, and the atoms that make us up get to be parts of other living things. But then came the tears. “What if I’m stuck being a tree for a thousand years and have to wait to be something else? What if you’re not my mom in my next life?” Obviously I’ve made a mess of things.
So, a refocusing of efforts is in order. So long, friends. You’ve meant the world to me.
I love you, baby.