My name's Krystin

"My name's Krystin, and I'm a blood glucose junkie"

My kid's been high all day long.

Not disasterously high or anything. Mind you, I should check for ketones the next time she's up. I digress....  She's been higher than she should be... All. Day. Long. 

I think her last decent number was at breakfast. I've been running after her, chasing her. Like a slowly deflating helium balloon on a mid summer's breeze. Not so heavily inflated that you have to leap to catch it, instead it's heavy, bogging. But JUST out of reach: taunting you.

It feels like type 1 diabetes is lifting it's leg on my family and marking it's territory:  "I LIVE HERE"  Yeah, yeah, yeah, we all know. But you won't hear me holler "UNCLE". Stop being a big bully already: shut up and sit down! If you're going to live here, we've got to agree to some rules:

1) You're welcome (because there's little other choice and I refuse to be resentful) but don't be obnoxious about it. TRY to be a gracious "visitor".

2) You arrived after everybody else was already here. Therefore your priority in the heirarchy is 5th. You come AFTER the cat, yet before the dog. You'll always have seniority on the fish.

3) The playing field of this complex and convoluted game,  is my youngest child. Be forewarned of the grizzly Mama bear. Don't MESS with the cub(s).

4) She WILL have a childhood first and foremost.

5) I reserve the right to make up the rules as I go.  YOU SURE SEEM TO.

Sincerely,

The Mama

PS: I will have the last word. The victory dance WILL be mine.