Skip to main content

A new year, a new us

Sorry I've been away for a while -- just trying to get in the groove of our new diabetes-and-hyperlipidemia lifestyle, focusing on training Chris in the ways of the healthy eater, spending as much time as a family as we can. Everything's going well, one week in. I'm proud of Chris, truly. He's taking this seriously, writing down every morsel he eats, going for walks outside (we went out at 7pm one night this week, all three of us bundled up, and played a game of Eye Spy with our maglight -- really fun) or inside on the treadmill when it's mega-cold out.

He seems like a new man, and I can't believe we didn't recognize all the signs and indications that he was sick. I mean, it's possible he's been full-blown diabetic since about last spring -- which would explain many of the things about his attitude and lifestyle that have been really frustrating to me this past year. Hindsight is 20-20, I know, but I'm hoping that now, as he finally discovers what it feels like to be healthy, he will pay attention, be more vigilant, and be more diligent in the years to come.

I know the really hard work lies ahead, when he gets his true appetite back or goes back to work full-time and his buddies order the 5-lb cheesesteaks from the joint up the road. But I'm confident that he's committed to this, that he will work hard so he can be part of our lives for a long, long time. He has to be -- both committed and in our lives for a long, long time -- because I don't want to imagine my world without him in it.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A boy and his cat

Our backyard is a decent size and backs to woods. Every time a visitor steps onto our back deck, friend, family, and neighbor alike, we hear "What a yard! You need to get that kid a dog!" Apparently this is the natural progression here in Suburbia: house + yard + boy child + dog = happiness. Now, it's one thing to hear about our need of dog from friends or family who know us, but coming from neighbors and relative strangers it gets a bit old. My first response is always, Why do you think so? Which makes people hem and haw because they don't want to insult me by saying what's really on their minds: Because you're depriving that child of a human sibling , and he needs a friend . One problem: We're not dog people. I mean, we like other people's dogs, and I often think having a dog would be a major motivation to walk long distances regularly and get myself into shape. But a dog is like a toddler who will never grow up. They are needy, and they bark and poo...

Ottomania!

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about ottomans. A ridiculous amount of time, actually, given the number of other things I truly should focus my thoughts on. I find, though, that when the world outside gets scary (and scary is a truly relative term these days) I turn to online shopping for things I don't really need. Actually, it's more like online browsing; I rarely purchase. I spend hours searching for, oh, erasable colored gel pens or standing desks or all-natural curly-hair gel or the perfect black sweater. (Yes, these are things I've fixated on over this winter; I still haven't clicked "buy" nor settled on any of them.) This week, it's ottomans. By the way, my girl  BrenĂ©  Brown would call this behavior numbing . I'm okay with that. Because online browsing is way less detrimental (so far) than chain smoking, which is what I'd really like to do when the world is scary. It's a way to escape, to daydream, to focus on things tha...

Grown-up words and what to do about them

We know our children are little sponges who soak up all our words, actions, mannerisms. They are often parrots, but even more often they are fun house mirrors, amplifying and exaggerating our own idiosyncratic behaviors until we cringe, laugh, or hang our heads in shame. Yesterday while cleaning up his toys, Sweet Boy got frustrated trying to put one of his train pieces together. Instead of crying or raging like he would have a few weeks ago, he threw the toy down and yelled, "Oh, fuck it!" Oh. My. Lord. The air was sucked out of the room. We were suspended in time and space, frozen as our eyes met. I took a split second to consider my options: (1) Freak out and yell at him---scare him into never saying it again; (2) Ask him to repeat what he said, because maybe I heard it wrong and I don't want to overreact; (3) Ask where he heard that word, stuff his mouth full of soap, then call the offending child's parent immediately (a la The Christmas Story ); (4) Ignore it so ...