Yes he is a 2.9 year old. My baby can't be 3, and technically he won't be for two more weeks... so I am holding off as long as possible.
Okay... maybe I am wrong and I should call him a 3 year old now. But the other half of this title is 100% true.
Johnny is stronger than me.
I still cry at night... or in the car... or any time I am alone and think about how different his life is going to be than what I planned. Most kids turn out different than how parents plan, I know this... but sometimes I wish it was because of his choice to be different than because his body screwed up. Like maybe he makes the choice to move away or drop out of college senior year and never finish that Applied Mathematics degree... (that is what I did that was probably not in the vision for my parents when I was 3). But this, daily injections, constant monitoring of blood, the numbers, the counting, the planning... every single day of his life is a matter of life and death now. I also cry for the opposite reason too! He is ALIVE! We caught it before any brain damage occurred, he is happy, there is a treatment, he can be socially normal (I say "can", because between my family and my husband's family... ya just never know), he is capable of playing sports, he is capable of being the head of his class, he can be just like every other kid... except for the constant blood monitoring and injections. Did you see how quickly my moods shift?. I am sad and grateful all at once, at all times of the day. Johnny doesn't cry anymore about it.
Johnny is stronger than me.
He doesn't wish things were like 2 weeks ago. He accepts it and is moving on. There are lots of things that occupy his mind instead: dinosaurs; throwing Bernadette's ball; finding things to flush down the toilet; playing with horses; when will we go to the zoo next; birthday parties; and today's was the best... he wanted to go to the beach. I didn't have the heart to tell him we live about 7 hours from the closest beach. He has already accepted this new life. He uses it to his advantage... sneaky little man! He uses it as a bargaining tool. For example:
Johnny: "Hey, I have an idea!" (so cute, his favorite phrase!) "Let's eat pancakes!"
Me: "Honey, its time to go take a bath and go to bed. I will make you pancakes in the morning after you go night night."
Johnny: "No, no night night," in a super sweet voice. Then "Hey, I have an idea! Pokey and THEN pancakes," with a super huge grin.
Yes, my 3 year old offered to trade a "pokey" aka checking his blood sugar for pancakes at bed time. The old mom would have made him pancakes, after all... what kind of mom lets her kid go to bed hungry? The kind that has to keep him alive with insulin is your answer. We are on an eating schedule to keep blood sugars stable... bedtime pancakes are not on the schedule. Which sucks for him, because as soon as that sweet little boy went to bed, Mommy ate 3-5 (who's counting) oreos and milk. Which brings me to my next point.
Johnny is stronger than me.
Food is addictive. My brother and I were talking about how eating can stimulates the same parts of the brain that crack will. I am addicted to food, you can look at me and see my addiction. My husband is addicted to food, you just can't see it (yet). We have two different addictions, but addictions none the less. 2 weeks ago Johnny was addicted to food. Not to the level that myself or my husband is, but he HAD to have a sippy of juice or chocolate milk at all times (diluted but still). If we put nothing but water in it he wouldn't drink it, he would whine about it, be fussy and miserable to be around. A few days before we went to the hospital I took a stand and said only water sippies from now on. If he wanted juice or milk he had to sit at the table and drink from a cup. Even with Diabetes (increased thirst) he didn't drink the water ever. I think that is one of the reasons he got as sick as he did when he did. He wasn't flushing the Ketones out anymore. Well, obviously we don't have juice or chocolate milk sippies anymore. Johnny gets water sippies, or diluted sugar free drinks occasionally. He has had to stop his food addiction and is over it in a week. I have been struggling with my food addiction for something like 12 years now... with every excuse in the book. I may have written the book actually. My current excuse is "Jocelyn wants it." Of course I know it isn't true! Of course I know it is an excuse. I also know that socially people will tend to leave me alone to eat my 3-5 oreos if that is my excuse instead of "I'm fat, what is another 3-5 oreos going to do?"
Yes, Johnny is stronger than me. If that is all he ever does in life, I will always admire him and be proud of him. He is at 3 years old the kind of person I strive to be. I will always tell him so, and one day he might actually believe me.
Now, I am off to make this brave little man the pancakes I promised him last night.
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