The "S" Word

As adults, we find ourselves saying words that aren't really a big deal, when coming out of the mouths of adults.

"This outfit looks like crap on me" or "Shut up! That is TOO funny!" or "Trust me, I felt SO stupid!" or "Eww--I HATE anchovies!"

But as you have children, and you continue to say these "bad" words, you realize that out of all the thousands of words your child hears everyday, they will only repeat the things that you DON'T want them to repeat, and words that sound rather inappropriate coming out of a child's mouth.

I'll never forget when Maddie was in her "Terrible Two's" (before she was diagnosed) she picked up on our (incidentally, I place equal blame on my husband) use of these "bad" words, which were only ever used in a casual, non-threatening way.

"I hate my hair! Please tell me if it looks stupid!"

"Can you believe I put on 2 different socks?!? I just realized how stupid it looks. The lighting in this closet is so crappy!"

"I can't get this stupid can opener to work!!!" (Can I get an Amen on that one ladies? Does anyone REALLY have a can opener that actually works??)

Anyhoo, we learned very quickly that stupid, crap, hate, and shut up, although mostly used in jest, and not EVER used to hurt anyone's feelings, or to be mean, were words that we could not say in front of Maddie.

Fast forward 7 years and 2 more children, and still, I feel a sense of sudden regret when I slice my finger open, and let a "crap" slip, or see an advertisement for a pole dancing exercise DVD on TV, and say that it's "stupid" under my breath, only to be reminded by my 5 year old that "Ooooh--mama said a bad word!" knowing good and well that those will be the first 6 words out of his mouth when my husband gets home, or as soon as he walks into my parents' house for a visit.

Embarrassed, I always explain that while it IS a "bad" word, sometimes grown-ups use it, but not in a mean way, and when he is 35, he can use those words as much as he'd like. But not before then.

One morning recently, after we had been up all night checking blood and ketones, and eventually changing her site, Maddie and I, both VERY tired from the night before, were working on her schoolwork. The house was quiet, she was almost through, and she stopped and put her pencil down.

As we both happened to yawn at the same time, she said, "Mama, can I say a bad word?"

"Um....". What is the correct answer to that question?!?

"Just this one time while Reilly and Brendan aren't around."

Stunned, and before I could answer, she screamed, "Diabetes is STUPID, and I HATE it! It's nothing but CRAP!" And then she just looked at me, waiting fir my reaction.

After blurting out all of those obscenities, she still looked tired, but she had a slight sense of relief on her sweet little face. I have to admit, those words do sound far worse coming out of a sweet little 9 year-old, innocent mouth.

She sheepishly waited for me to scowl, or to reprimand her.

After all, she was simply stating the truth about something that we have to fight every day. Something that rules her life and interrupts everything she does. Something that NOT ONE of her friends has to deal with. Something that makes her different. Something that is unfair and tries to defeat her every minute of the day.

So obviously, I smiled wide, and proudly said, "Maddie, I couldn't agree with you more!"


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Reply

I just wanted to write a quick post to reply to a comment that someone made on one of my older posts.  I don't know the commentor, but I am very glad that she found my blog and read it.  That really means a lot to me.  The more we know about the stuggles people have with diabetes, the closer we'll be to finding a cure.

I think she misunderstood the title of my blog, which is "A Beautiful Diabetic".  She wrote:   

"It is sad that you identify your daughter as diabetic.
It should be....My Beautiful daughter is Maddie. She is 9 and she's smart, talented, full of life, and hilarious, all rolled up into one precious little body. o yeah she is diabetic.
Diabetic is not who she is."

You're right--a diabetic is not who she is.  And just so you know, I don't really 'identify' her as diabetic.  The reason I called my blog "A Beautiful Diabetic" is because I want people to know about this disease, and how it affects children and families on a realistic daily basis.

I could have called it ":My Beautiful Maddie" and that would have been a wonderful title, but for me, I want to reach out to that one mother, who sits in despair at her computer, googling diabetes because her child was just diagnosed.  I want her to know that my diabetic child lives a normal, fun-filled, yet sometimes treacherous life.  This disease is a fight that we are going to win, and that is the point of my blog.

Another reason for writing my blog, mostly about diabetes, is because there is a huge community out there of families with children who have the disease.  Personally, I value those other moms who have that in common with me, and who also have blogs about their diabetic kids.  I look to them for support, and questions when necessary.

But, thank you, friend, for caring enough to leave a comment on my blog.  I sincerely appreciate your input.  But don't be sad~  I don't identify Maddie as a diabetic.  It's just a creative title that is intended to catch the eye of someone who is struggling with the same thing. 

Daddy's Girl

I had always dreamed of having a little blond, curly headed girl. She and I were going to play together, laugh together, and we would always be best friends. We would hang out together all the time, and at any waking moment, I would want to spend it with her. I would have a shopping buddy, and we would be so happy together.

Then I had my baby girl.

She didn’t have blond curly hair, and the only person she wanted to be around was Daddy. I spent all day with her, every day. She would cry, fuss, throw up on me, and all of that “mom” stuff. But no. She didn’t want me. She wanted her Daddy.

She wanted Daddy first thing in the morning, she wanted Daddy all throughout the day, she wanted Daddy in the evenings, and she wanted Daddy during the night. I was chopped liver. She couldn’t have cared any less about my existence.

There was excitement in her voice and love on her face at the mere mention of his name. She was totally different when he got home. She was calm, loving, quiet, and sweet. You would have thought it was Christmas morning when she heard the door open. To see Daddy, or hear his voice was sheer excitement and pure joy.

She had him wrapped around her finger, too. She still does. And his heart melts for his beautiful girl.