If nothing else, diabetes has provided me with stories to tell.

Like the time before diagnosis when I peed my pants.  Or the time I told a classmate if they weren't careful, I'd put insulin in their milk and make them diabetic.  Or the time I socked a kid who called a diabetic friend of mine "sugar-freak."  Or the times I've made a donkey of myself during a low.  

In my mind, storytelling is the most important thing we have in life.  It defines family, history, culture.  It draws pictures of the past and shapes our values and ideals.  It is an art-form that I think is (sadly) fading away with the dawn of "information now," twitter and facebook updates, texting, and the like.  I don't know how to explain to my thirteen year old nephew that "I m Sk8in and LOL" is not a story.  

At any rate.  Today I'd like to share a story about goal-setting.  

I was diagnosed with diabetes during the days of urine testing, syringe boiling to get the most of a month's supply, and paper logbooks.  Oh, the logbooks.  My mother, try as she might, could never get me to keep a logbook faithfully.  I was of the brand of diabetic who filled the logbook in the night before appointments, sometimes guessing and sometimes fabricating numbers.  When it came right down to it, I think the doctor knew this, and did his best to ameliorate my stupidity.  

There were a billion tricks mom tried to get me to write those numbers down as we went.  She taped the logbook to the inside of my test kit.  She offered prizes - like records, posters, new clothes to try to gain my compliance.  She   threatened grounding.  None of it worked. 

Then my mother thought of something.  Money.  She posted a logbook on the fridge.  For every day a minimum of five tests and five doses were entered, I got  $3.00. At thirteen this meant $20.00 a week.   A fortune really.  My mom and dad split the cost, and I got whatever I earned in addition to my regular allowance.  This worked for several years.  Until I turned sixteen and someone (I still don't know who, blast them) pointed out to my mother that money was the wrong incentive.  I remember the day my mother told me we were going to discontinue the "pay to play" policy.  She said something about "proper incentive..."  And blah, blah, blah. 

So we went back to a looser (or loser) logging schedule.  And lord knows, nowadays, there ain't no one payin' me to log.  I wish there were.  I'm pretty sure if I got paid to log, I'd actually do it faithfully.  It's kind of sad, in the end, that the health benefits of logging don't do it.... The health benefits, I'm sure, are the  "proper incentive" my mother was referring to all those years ago.  

What do you use to incent yourself to log?  Is the health benefit enough?  Any suggestions for a lax logger like myself?

I'm setting a couple of goals - today. 

First, I'm going to try to better about logging. 

Second - I'm going to get here more often to tell you stories... 

I can promise on the second... 

On the first, well, anyone willing to write me a weekly check per logged bloodsugar?