My blood sugars have been erratic over the past week despite cutting out processed sugars and adhering to a meal schedule. I get one normal value per day, plus three abnormal values that range from a few "points" above normal (say, 130 mg/dL, just over the 2-hr postprandial cutoff of 120 mg/dL) to occasionally way out of range (over 200 mg/dL). And the variance can occur from eating the same food at the same mealtime. Huh. So basically, pregnancy hormones have fucked my pancreas hard and my beta islet cells are just curled up in a ball whimpering, but definitely not cranking out enough insulin. My follow-up appointment is tomorrow and I will just walk in with my hand outstretched for an oral antidiabetic med script and ask a bunch of questions about where we go from here. I don't really want to know the answers, but I need data, people. Knowledge is power or whatever.
In much better news, Jackson's birthday is this coming Sunday and I have next to no (paid consulting) work to do this week so I am spending my time making decorations and treats for our family and friends. It will be a super small party, just immediate family and a couple of Jackson's friends and their parents. I wish we do could something a little bigger, maybe invite more kids, since he's about to take a backseat to a newborn who will rock all of our worlds, but we're just physically wiped and need to keep this low-key. I don't think a 2-year-old will care too much. Wait. Is he going to be a TWO-YEAR-OLD? Shit. When did that happen?
I completely stole another blogger's idea from her munchkin's first birthday theme (thanks, R) and went with "woodland creatures." Doesn't that sound enchanted? Nicer than "baby wild feral animals." I ordered a cake from the same bakery that made his sock monkey cake last year and can't wait to see what they've made for us this time. (I gave them some basics, like flavors -- one layer each of green tea/vanilla and salted caramel -- and told them go nuts with the artsy stuffs and surprise me). And I made a little pennant and door hanger with woodsy fabric. And I just got home from buying ingredients to make acorn cookies and bear paw cookies. (I feel like I have to put in some kind of effort to make something, since we're leaning toward ordering pizzas for the party). If I had known when I picked this theme how obsessed Jackson would be right now with Elmo and Cookie Monster, I would have gone that route -- I just found an awesome youtube tutorial for making Cookie Monster or Elmo cupcakes -- but there's always next year. Unless he's moved on to something else by then. Likely.
I'm super annoyed that my sister, who is not working nor actively looking for work at present, isn't coming. And I had to ask her; she didn't bother volunteering this info to RSVP even out of basic respect and manners. If she had an interview lined up Monday morning or something, or was concerned about the cost of driving from Chicago, I would understand. But no. She has random plans with friends and that's more important than her only nephew's birthday. On the one hand, it's a relief because she is a pain in the ass. Especially about food. She asked me a few questions when she was here last week about what we would have for dinner and cake flavors and such and wrinkled her nose at it (she claims to be allergic to tomatoes, vinegar [but not wine, mind you], soy, citrus, wheat, and other random things, and makes a huge stink out of it in public. Exhibit A: at Qdoba, when ordering nachos, she began her order with, "This is going to be a VERY complicated order due to my food allergies..." and her order was nachos, meat, and cheese.) I also tire of biting my tongue as she talks about, most recently, how she's planning to live on unemployment for a while and potentially cash in her 401K to avoid taking anything but the "perfect" job. I doubt she realizes that the unemployment offices in Illinois are not going to be impressed nor moved by her soul-searching plan and will kick her off the rolls if she doesn't take some sort of job within a reasonable amount of time. She also thinks COBRA insurance will only cost her around $200/month. (BWAHAHAHAHA.) I don't know where she got this info, but when I left my full-time job last year, my COBRA packet indicated that continuing my same policy would be around $1000/month. There goes the unemployment check. (And keep in mind, she's a hypochondriac who ends up in the ER at least once a month and spends hundreds of dollars per month on various prescription and OTC meds and even more on alternative therapies since, as she sees it, traditional medicine has "turned its back on her" for failing to recognize her totally legitimate and not at all made up ailments that no test can seem to diagnose and no proven therapy can seem to mend). My disappointment and concern is more of a big picture issue, since dealing with this brand of Crazy™ is exhausting and that's precisely why I don't do it anymore with other family members. If they can't make an effort to pull their act together when they're around me and my family (KB and my kids [HOLY SHIT, PLURAL!]) then why should I keep bending over backwards to validate, even if only passively (by not calling them out on their bullshit), this unhealthy behavior? It's a fine question I am asking myself more seriously these days, since my attention and energy is going to be fully devoted to the raising of 2 (TWO!) small children soon. I don't have the time or inclination to try and raise batshit crazy adults who should know better. She says she wants to visit in November, after her vacation (a super wise idea when you're out of work!) and presumably after the baby is born, but I find myself not caring if she does or not. And if so, I hope it's a brief visit. I pretty much have no family left at this point. They are all so royally fucked up I can barely stand to joke about it anymore. My sister seemed to be aimed toward Normal® for a while, but is now doubling down on Crazy™. Oh well.
And back to happy news again, my paid work is slowly trailing off into nearly nothing as clients keep pushing back their project timelines, meaning that I will have little to do in the coming 4-6 weeks and instead will just hand it over to someone else at the end of October. Sweet. Of course, I don't get paid for what I don't end up doing, but I don't care at this point. I'm happy to have the time to wash baby clothes and help assemble the crib and re-sterilize all my pump parts and find a part-time nanny and all that. (I have this plan that I'll write about another time to keep the baby home with me until around 6 months or so, since I'm only working part-time and from home, so I don't have to pump much and to soak up my last ever dose of newbornness. Just need to find a nanny. Zoiks.) I am finally hitting a tipping point at which, despite my physical misery, I am feeling excited for the baby to come. I wonder if he'll look like his brother or if he'll take after the more swarthy Italians in KB's family. I wonder if he'll be gigantic (thank you, gestational diabetes) or small. I wonder how Jackson will react to meeting him. (I'm trying to teach Jackson how to hold a baby by making a game of it, and asking him questions like, "Would you like to help cover the baby with a blanket? Will you help change the baby's diaper?" which are all met with a curious, "Okay?!?"). It's starting to sink in that I will soon be the mother of TWO children. Well. Who'd have thunk it.
More Diabetes News You Can Use after tomorrow's appointment (as you wait on the edge of your seat) and then birthday party pictures....because a little dose of happy is in order.