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

I feel like such a mean dad.

 

I am the father of two very awesome kids. My son is 14 and my daughter is 10. They are both very smart and well mannered kids. My wife and I are extremely blessed in that they are both good kids. We thank God all the time for them.

 

I am usually considered the "cool dad" with my kid and their friends and as much as I am "cool" I am also pretty strict. I have definite rules with my kids and as long as they do not break them then they have lots of freedoms. Break a rule and freedoms are gone.

 

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Christmas means joy. Christmas means tales of sugar plums dancing in children's heads. Christmas means Christmas dresses.

This past holiday was my first pumping Christmas, which meant learning how to "graze" and square bolus at all the parties, how to watch for trends from "holiday stress" and how to buy a Christmas dress fit for a pump.

Typically, finding a dress is hard enough. I'll try on one hundred to find one. Some are too fancy, some are the wrong color, some are just ugh! But never has one been unfit for a pump. Until this Christmas.
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Tomorrow is the JDRF Promise Ball. I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to wear. Since it’s black tie, I wanted to wear one of the many evening gowns I have laying around (from prom and other balls). So last week, I tried on the main one I wanted, but I didn’t feel comfortable.

 

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The other day, I took Olivia shopping for clothes. She'd received some money for Christmas and was eager to spend it, as 13 year-old girls are wont to do.

We schlepped down to the mall and started looking and I was appalled. Not by skimpy or slutty clothing, but by the sizes. I don't know who they are making these clothes for, but some of the size smalls would have fit my three year-old.

Olivia isn't skinny. She's built like me - busty and hippy. It's a pain in the butt to shop when you're built like that. But she only weighs 130 lbs - she's not overweight. She's normal. She's curvy. She looks like a young woman, not like a scare crow.

As I helped her pick out clothes and watched her try stuff on, I could see the discouragement and pain on her face. Nothing fit. Even larges were too snug. She was almost in tears by the end of the day. I felt so bad for her because I know exactly what she's going thru.
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The fun never ends around here. Olivia woke up at three o'clock this morning. She puked on the floor in her room. She puked down the hall way. She puked all over the bathroom. And herself. Poor kid - she was miserable.

Of course, this woke up both little girls - I'm running up and down the stairs, fetching towels and the mop and trying to keep the two babies from yelling the house down. Boo calmed down quickly and went back to sleep. The Bug, who is The World's Lousiest Sleeper (TM), was up, but quiet. And here I am, in my t-shirt, freezing, mopping the floors. Fun.

Olivia showered as I schlepped the puked-upon clothing and towels down to the cellar. Back upstairs again to get her into bed, with the puke bowl. A quick blood sugar check - she was 199, which I didn't correct, given the amount she threw up - and we both went back to bed.
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I was going to write a post about glucose tabs today to represent the letter G. But I'm not going to deliver as promised. Because, another G has been on my mind of late and I wanted to write about it.
What, pray-tell, could deter me from the path of a post about chalky-lemony glucose tabs? Nothing terribly exciting - just the gym. (READ MORE)

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It was mid-afternoon as I strolled into the local pharmacy. I needed more Novolog insulin pens and today's trip would prove itself as unsmooth as usual. The diabetic smack in the face did not come for me, however, but for the slightly unsorted diabetic fellow ahead of me.
This day's pharmaceutical quest was not stunted by the feared insurance decline, or the "too early" for a refill drama. Not even the "out of stock" song from the pharmacy tech, or wrong sized needles being slid over the counter. It was simply an, "I'm sorry, I can't help you" interaction.
Unsorted Diabetic: What do you mean I can't refill my syringes here?
Pharmacy Tech: I'm sorry. I have no record of you as an approved customer.
Unsorted Diabetic: I don't usually get my refills here. I was just in the area.
Pharmacy Tech: Some muffled explanation and seemingly helpful recourse. (READ MORE)

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As I sat in the lower level of the on-campus trolley stop I thought about the injection I just took and the maze of shots I take every day. How many more shots will I take in my life? How many more times will I have to stutter-step, looking for a good place to shoot-up some insulin? How drastically might an insulin pump change my routine? (READ MORE)

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The other day, Michelle posted about censoring her blog to not upset her mother sometimes. I realize I do this too, but not for the same reason. I tend to censor my writing out of superstition. I'm like one of those people who mouth the word cancer. When things are going good for me, I know if I blog about it, things will quickly turn around.

 

Last week, I chose to not look over my shoulder (or toss salt over it) and jump up and down with glee over my new pump. I was so excited about it, and how much easier it made my diabetes control.

 

I should know better than to speak up when things are going good. I should have whispered instead. I even knocked wood to fend off the fates, but I guess they heard me over all that banging.   

 

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When I woke up this morning I didn't notice anything different. I heard my kids running around getting their stuff together for school. I sat up and walked directly to the bathroom to shave and shower as I do every day. I turned on the water and sat my pump on the counter just like yesterday and a lot like tomorrow.
Before I wet my face I caught of glimpse of myself in the mirror and stared at the infusion site on my stomach. I saw this medical device stuck to me like an IV or something. I noticed the curliness of the 43" tubing running from the site to my pump. I looked at my face and saw a tired guy. A guy that has a lot of choices and plans foiled because of this disease. (READ MORE)

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