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We found 10 result(s) that match your search "birthday party":

A funny thing happened this week. I turned forty.
Okay, perhaps it wasn't so funny.
The morning of my birthday, I took a long moment in front of my bathroom mirror. My apartment complex management was kind enough to replace the subtle lighting over the mirror that we'd had for two years with new, direct lights that look fancy but which might be more appropriate for an interrogation than the gentle transition from being asleep to facing the reality of my new life as a forty-something. Looking in the mirror, I swear I could hear the faint creaking sound of my bones as they calcified. (READ MORE)

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Time to close out your work week with a nice cup of coffee and the Blogabetes Weekly Round Up for November 30th.
Returning from maternity leave and ready to jump back in, Rebecca treats us to a four-part series on the birth of her first son. Great information here for anyone who is pregnant, or thinking of becoming pregnant, with diabetes. (READ MORE)

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I wish a pizza party could be just that. A party with pizza. For a parent of a child with diabetes, it's no party at all. It's a highly strategic military operation.
Charlie went to a birthday party on Sunday where the kids made their own pizza. I would have preferred a make-your-own grilled halibut with asparagus party. But it was not to be. (READ MORE)

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Listen, people! The FDL (Fantasy Diabetes League) is for real! Sure, it had some trouble finding its footing in the early days of this inaugural season, but I assure you, one lucky winner will walk away with a $10 Starbucks gift card and better yet, an original drawing by Charlie of a giant squid urinating on a scuba diver. Throw a frame on it and it's perfect for the guest bathroom or the baby's nursery.
The gist is simple. Receive absurd comments related to diabetes and earn points. For more on the rules of The FDL, click here. (READ MORE)

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"Hold your pump," the tall twenty-something dude with multiple piercings in both ears said prosaically to Charlie as he helped him out of his rock-climbing harness.

 

Lurking nearby, I was amazed by a couple things. First - how did the guy working the rock-climbing birthday party know it was a pump? Second – how is it that he had no reaction to it other than to move it out of the way? Like it was just another appendage getting tangled in rope and buckles.

 

When he walked away, I asked Charlie, "Did you tell him it was a pump?"

 

"No."

 

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While driving to a funeral in the Catskill Mountains yesterday, I called home and Susanne said "don't ask."

 

Charlie has been terribly high lately. I stared ahead at the cars on Route 17 and a valley of farmlands in the distance and responded sarcastically after getting the wretched numbers out of her.

 

"Fantastic."

 

The highs at school have been affecting Charlie emotionally in the last few days. With a blood sugar of 370, he had to skip the munchkins from the first of two in-class birthday parties. He had sugar-free Jell-O instead and was on the edge of losing it.

 

The kids were being rowdy and loud after the teacher had asked for quiet time.

 

"The ones who are still talking should stand up and go get a slip," Mrs. R said firmly.

 

Only one kid stood up.

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I noticed a major change in my habits this weekend. I found that I can actually survive going out to eat without overdoing it. It was huge accomplishment for me since I am a big eater.
My mother was in town for her sister's big 60th birthday party so we decided to go out to dinner on Friday night. My mom picked a great little restaurant not too far from our home that has some of the best barbecue around. You know those places that when you just mention the name, your stomach rumbles in excitement? It is one of those places. (READ MORE)

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Ben lowered his head and was right on my heels in the dark as we took cover behind a neon-outlined wall near the yellow base. He looked terrified.  I peered around the corner and pointed directions to him with two fingers like they do in combat films. "Stay down," I mouthed. "I'm going out there."

 

 A 6-year-old girl was approaching slowly - crouching low and walking sideways with her gun raised steady above her shoulders. She was using "alpha, bravo, Charlie" phonetics and switching from English to French and this frightened me.  She was trouble.

 

In the near pitch-black labyrinth that is laser tag, I had no clue of Charlie's whereabouts. I didn't think of it at the time, but a severe hypoglycemic event would be very bad in this setting; especially it being his birthday party.

 

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"Who likes pizza???"

 

The exuberant 20-something with red wristbands and blotchy red cheeks ignited the group of 2nd-graders into a frenzy.

 

The arms went up like missiles.

 

Well, almost all of the arms.

 

Charlie’s arm soared straight up and then began to dip half-way before crashing back down to his side as the realization set in that he wasn’t having any.

 

The father of the birthday girl, standing next to me, saw this too. We had just talked about how pizza wreaks havoc on Charlie’s blood sugar.

 

"Poor Charlie," he said compassionately.

 

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