Getting ready for work this morning and listening to music as I often do, it was hard not to notice the striking juxtaposition of what was happening in the next room and the gorgeous melody filling the kitchen air. This morning it was "Cold Water," sung by Damien Rice and Lisa Hannigan.

Cold, cold water surrounds me now

"You’re hurting me!"

And all I’ve got is your hand

"Ow! You’re hurting me!"

Lord, can you hear me now?

"I’m not trying to, Charlie. Please try not to move!"

Lord, can you hear me now?

"Wait!"

Lord, can you hear me now?

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There's a Band Aid on my tummy. A small, flexible-fabric Band Aid.

Underneath is neosporin, which is covering up my last pump site. I've never used neosporin -- or a Band Aid -- after pulling a site.

That site had been itchy for about a day. I knew it was (over)due for a change, but I had so little insulin in my pump that I didn't want to do two "site changes" back to back.

I primed my pump this morning and was preparing to quick-sert the set when I glanced at my soon-to-be-old site. It looked like my skin had been sucked up into the set. I usually leave the old set in for several hours, but this one I quickly ripped out.

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If there's anything those of us with diabetes know, it's that we have to be flexible. Blood sugar levels and blood sugar maintenance equipment and medications take a lot of brain power and we are often at their mercy.

Which is why I'm up at 11 p.m. -- one solid hour after my bedtime -- writing this post. The house was actually quiet for once. The Mr. had gone to bed early, the kids were in bed, I had made lunches for tomorrow and done the dishes. I sat down to watch a little of the Olympics, enjoying the semi-silence; before I knew it it was 10:30 p.m.

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I hate site-change days. It's not often that I use that word, but really, I hate days like today.

I was rushed this morning. I had planned to get up earlier than I did anticipating that I'd need to do a complete site and reservoir change. Didn't happen -- the getting up early part. As I sat at the table watching the kids eat breakfast, I felt myself rushing through the site-change ritual, even getting the infusion set tape stuck to the side of the QuickSerter. That's never good.

Take deep breaths, Michelle, I told myself. Slow down, I said. You're going to wind up with a bad site if you don't. So I did. Sort of. Well, enough to get my infusion set inserted.

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Three days, or until the insulin is all used up - that is how long an OmniPod is to be worn for. Before pumping, I was unsure if the scheduled three day replacement interval was going to be a nuisance. I even pondered the idea of trying to sneak in an extra day on the pods- so long as there was enough insulin stowed away in them. Well, that notion, along with a little of my patience, consistently scurries away when I near the end of a pod cycle, and the three day itch sets in. (READ MORE)

"Did it hurt real bad?"

"It burned," Charlie said. "It felt like I was on fire."

"Do you think mommy and daddy want to hurt you?"

Charlie nods in the affirmative.

"That would be really mean; like really evil. Do you think mommy and daddy are evil?"

He nods up and down again, dipping his waffle in a small bowl of sugar-free syrup.

The slight smirk tells me he doesn't truly believe that, but it sucks to hear that from your child nonetheless.

That was this morning. Last night we took Charlie to hell and back with two site changes. The first site change was so absolutely horrendous that we just HAD to do it again, the monsters that we are. (READ MORE)