Olivia and I trekked in to Boston today, to visit her endo at Joslin. How I loathe that drive. It's two hours and the last 20 miles take at least 45 minutes. Today it took an hour. Holy god, the potholes on Route 9 could swallow a Mack truck.

Anyway. We navigated the Parking Garage Of Doom (otherwise known as Pilgrim St.) and were only (only!) 25 minutes late. I hate being late. It makes me itch.

The endo saw us right away - and Kerri, I told her you said hello. She was very happy to hear how well you're doing. The visit went well, although her A1C went from a 7.7% to an 8.1%. I hate that number. I know it's not supposed to, but it always feels like a failing grade when it gets high like that. Her doctor said it was fine, to be expected in a hormonal (and how!) teenager, but still. I don't like it. It makes my brain go down paths I'd rather they not travel, y'know?

We discussed the missed blood sugar entries. The doctor said that Olivia should keep a calendar and for every day that she doesn't miss putting a blood sugar into her pump, she should give herself a star. At the end of the week, if she has 6 days out of 7, she should get a reward - like extra computer or TV time. Olivia eagerly agreed to this.

Me? I was biting my tongue so hard I'm surprised it didn't bleed. When I suggested this last night, I got a huge, heaving sigh, a rolling of the eyes and a "Mooooooom, that's so juvenile! I'm 13, not a baby."

The authorities still frown on selling children for science experiments, don't they?