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We found 10 result(s) that match your search "alarm clock":

You all know how I don't like to skip more than one day when it comes to my daily walk. (I always skip Wednesdays because I go to mass with No. 1.) Well, (*sigh*) I think I'm going to have to fire my alarm clock. My nearly brand-new alarm clock that I was actually really excited about. (READ MORE)

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I'll admit that I was quite intrigued with some of the alarm clocks I saw when I went to replace my fledgling standby. A clock that sets itself as soon as you plug it in?! Bonus! And resets to the right time if the power goes out?! Sweet! Knows the time zone? And date? What more could a person ask for in an alarm clock?
Well, an alarm that actually wakes me up would be nice. I know, I know, that's a lot to ask of modern technology, but getting out of bed in the morning is a small price to pay for actually having a job.
As you'll recall, I blamed that first new alarm clock for my the demise of my walking routine. The soothing beeps just didn't rouse me enough to actually wake up. I would find that I had unconsciously hit snooze for 45 minutes before actually waking up enough to realize that I was late. Can't wake up in time=no exercise for Michelle. I gave that clock probably more chances than it deserved. (READ MORE)

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If there's one thing I've learned about prayer it's that sometimes you have to be pretty specific. As you know, I've been having trouble getting up in the morning with enough time for my walk.
So last night as I was doing my bedtime routine, I chanted over and over, "God, please help me get up in time to walk tomorrow." I really wanted to cover all my bases: I set my alarm 10 minutes earlier and decided to take advantage of the dual alarm and set "alarm 1" for 5:30 a.m. and "alarm 2" for 5:35 a.m. so that I'd really be bombarded with noise--and often! (READ MORE)

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·On walking: For the first time in five days, I took my daily morning walk. Saturday and Sunday. And man did it feel good. However, I'm going to have to fire Sarge. Despite the new "anti-pull leash" my walking partner still just doesn't seem to respond to it nor my constant pulling on him. He was doing OK on Saturday, but on Sunday I got so angry that I made the final decision. The Mr. keeps telling me to try certain things, different tricks. And all I can say is "Tried it." "Tried it." "Tried it." I want to be able to take Sarge with me. In fact, I feel like I'll be naked without him on my walk. Not to mention scared without my 90-lb. bodyguard. (Maybe I'll take his leash for moral support!) But like I told The Mr., the more I have to stop to teach Sarge, the less my walk becomes about me. (READ MORE)

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I have a confession: I haven't exercised since before Thanksgiving. E-gads! Ugh, and I'm so feeling it. My pants are feeling tighter, I'm more tired, I'm more cranky, it's harder to bend over and tie my shoes, blah, blah, blah.
There are so many excuses I could hand out for this (stress being a big one), all of which would come back to me staying up later (right now it's almost my bedtime and I should be getting ready for bed and not writing, for example) and, therefore, having trouble forcing myself out of bed in the morning. I tried blaming it on my alarm clock, too, but I think even that is a cop out.
I absolutely hate making New Year's resolutions. I can never stick to them and I never have really taken them seriously. I don't really know how to get myself to stick to that kind of goal. (READ MORE)

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1. Charlie was sitting on the toilet crying the other day because his dry, chapped knuckle was bleeding slightly. "Charlie, you see blood all the time when we test your sugar," I reminded him. "Yeah, but not from my hand," his sobs growing larger. "Blood is supposed to come from my fingers not my hand!" Damn this disease for making my 5-year-old say that blood is supposed to come from his fingers.
2. Speaking of testing, baby Ben copies everything his big brother Charlie does. These days it's not uncommon to see Ben standing in "the spot" - the area of the kitchen where we usually test Charlie. Ben stands there reaching his little hand up on the counter, sticking his finger out, saying, "pweeeeze." (READ MORE)

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I have never been a morning person. It's always been difficult for me to wake up in the mornings. In fact, I remember in elementary school my mom putting my alarm clock across the room so I'd have to actually get out of bed to turn it off; the theory being that if I was out of bed to turn off the alarm I'd be more likely to actually stay up. Can anyone guess how well that worked?
 

Remember my struggle to push myself to get out of bed at 5:30 to get my exercise and how I had a string of bad luck with alarm clocks? In that life, I lived just four blocks from work. So getting up at 5:30, exercising, showering, eating breakfast, getting the kids to daycare and getting to work around 8:45 a.m. or so was completely possible without rushing.
 

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This morning I woke up to my pump alarm yelling at me. I turned over and looked at the clock. Having over an hour before I needed to wake up I grabbed my pump and pressed the ESC and ACT buttons to kill the alarm and fell quickly back to sleep. I knew this morning was going to be an infusion set change day so I was not surprised, just annoyed.
No sooner did I go back to sleep that I heard the alarm again. Not normally when you clear the low reservoir alarm you have another 10 units of insulin worth before the alarm goes off again. I reached under the blankets and cleared the alarm again. I don't think I even achieved REM state before my alarm went off and I was up for good. Bummer. (READ MORE)

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Yesterday I posted on Facebook that I felt guilty for having not exercised two days in a row. I was feeling kind of down (TAXES!) and knew that a good morning walk would likely help me feel better. But something funky was going on with me last night. I did not expect my sugar to be so wild after dinner and I worked hard to get it in an acceptable range for bed so that it could chill overnight and I would be at a nice place for my morning walk.
 

Good plan. Foiled.
 

Somewhere in the middle of the night Dex woke me. All I remember seeing was a nice, flat line hovering just over 80 for several hours and then an arrow pointing up and the trend graph looking like the side of a mountain. I was already over 200 mg/dL. I remember thinking that this was weird, but I put Dex back on my nightstand and went back to sleep.
 

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One winter evening, I had a reminder of how good I used to feel after a walk. It was freezing outside, but the walls of the house were closing in. The kids were screaming, there were dishes to be done, dinner to be made, everyone wanted something from me, but Super Mom needed a vacation.
"I'm taking the dog for a walk," I said to my husband.
Off I went, but not on my normal walking route. My intention was just to clear my head and to be alone. To just take a leisurely walk. But I could feel the drive to walk intensify. My sneakers pounded the pavement and that sound of rubber on asphalt and grinding sandy dirt under my shoes was all I could hear on that evening in my sleepy town.
Man, this feels good! I thought to myself.
Man, oh, man, does this ever feel good!
I walked farther and farther and kept going faster and faster. My face was freezing, my nose was running, but by God I wasn't stopping. (READ MORE)

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