I'm taking the girls to the park (if the rain holds off, she said, eyeing the sky warily) tonight, for a picnic. Not out of some desire to be The World's Best Mum (I lost that title long, long ago), but because our landlady is showing our apartment tonight.

So I've packed up a couple of ham sandwiched for me and Olivia and the ubiquitous PB&Js for the little girls and we're about to head out the door. I'm fairly confident I can remember that her sandwich has 25g of carbs in it, but I'm also bringing some fruit and some Cheez-its.

Things like apples and bananas are fairly easy to guess at, but a handful of Cheez-its or 12 strawberries? Not so much. So we SWAG it - Scientific Wild-Ass Guess. Most of the time, it works, too.

Tonight I'll go a little more conservatively with the insulin, since she'll be running around with the little girls at the park. If it rains, we'll readjust.

Diabetes just seems to be this constant stream of second- and third-guessing everything I do. If I've calculated the carbs properly, if I've counted on how much/how little exercise she's going to be getting, if she's remembered to bolus for that bowl of ice cream she just had. I don't like feeling like I'm never quite sure what's going on, like I'm constantly checking and rechecking to make sure that everything's OK. Or as OK as it can be, given the unpredictability of this disease.

But hopefully tonight will be a low-key, run-of-the-mill evening at the park. And not a reappearance of Larry Bird.