Love Note

He knows, absolutely, that I love him.

And yet these are the notes I leave him after six and a half years of marriage and a decade together.

Today as I was rushing to get Frank's lunch ready and packed for pre-school I realised I wasn't going to be the one injecting his insulin at lunchtime and that I was actually going to be an hour's drive away.
I quickly wrote down the carbs for his lunch and what I considered to be the corresponding units of insulin.
I left it by the kettle. My man likes a good cup of tea so it's the place he will go to most.

These are the new routines. More to remember. More to do. Layers of responsibility.

And he thanked me when I called him after lunch and asked how it had all gone and how Frank's numbers had been.

He understands that his note was a Love Letter of the New Era. Post D-Day.

And from the heart.

Thank you too, my love.

We are in this together.

Always.

A Smooth Start to the Day

We have decided that Sunday is smoothie day.

So I whizzed up a raspberry and yoghurt smoothie for our breakfast (frozen raspberries are great).
As I was then working out the carbs I realised that it made for a pretty healthy and low carb breakfast for Frank.

We all followed it up with toast and almond butter, which is the spread of choice for all of us at the moment.

It was a little taste of all the berries to come in the Summer and we lapped it up.

As you can see, Frank made his feelings very clear!

We used 350g frozen raspberries, slightly thawed, and 300g natural yoghurt. Ice cubes can be added for more crunchy coldness.

Using my trusty hand blender I whizzed it all up amid "Mummy, be quiet!" and then "Ooh, smoovie!" and then the festivities began.

It was yummy and healthy and around 43g carbs for the whole jug.

It certainly floated our boat this Sunday and is a great way to eat berries that taste great but maybe aren't as pretty as the fresh ones flown in from Jupiter in your local supermarket.

(Confession: When Frank was younger I used to tell him this was "ice cream". He doesn't fall for that anymore. I also used to give him cornflakes and tell him they were crisps. I wouldn't get away with it anymore. The boy is snack-wise!)

30 Days of Beauty : 11

On Friday it was so warm and sunny that we were finally able to get out into the garden and even had our afternoon snack out there.

Nothing beats the beauty of being outside with a pot of green tea for the three of us and our little plate of snacks. Weeks and weeks of this ahead, we hope.

Hope Spring is peeking out where you are.

A woolly saga

About a month ago I bought some lovely chunky wool with the idea of finally knitting a hat that fits and suits Andrew. I had tried a couple before but they looked so bad that I didn't even get a photo.

This one came out enormous and we called it Hagrid's Hat before I frogged it and started again.

Enter this nifty little number.

It fits him.

It suits him.

And I made it in an evening.

The little Frankster is also sporting a new hat this week with this stash-busting little number.

He wore it proudly to watch the Jock Wadley Race on Sunday. He loved seeing the big group of cyclists pouring around the corners.

Poetry in motion.

We love cycle racing in this house and are glued to the Tour de France coverage every Summer. Can you imagine the dodgy deals we tried to strike with each other about who put Frank to bed each evening in July?! Coverage here begins at 7pm. Prime baby bed time.

Maybe this year Frank will want to stay up late and watch it himself?

30 Days of Beauty : Ten : A Magical Mystery Tour

One of my birthday presents from Andrew and Frank was today.

A Magical Mystery Tour in the camper van.

We woke to bright Spring sunshine. About 45 minutes from home is the Deben estuary and Ramsholt.

We parked up, played about on the beach, running around, throwing stones into the water and making animals in the sand.

I defy anyone to say East Anglia isn't beautiful.

We have such gentle scenes and big skies.

Then it was a pub lunch before heading into Woodbridge for a coffee in the afternoon.

A blissful and uncomplicated day with my two boys.

And to top it all Frank was at or under 10 each time we tested his blood sugars.

Now that's what I call a birthday present!

Earl's Colne, Jackson Pollock and a green boy

Cryptic title, bet you're all wondering what pearls will be falling from my keyboard today?

OK, so you're not but I'll tell you anyway.

Frank woke me at 5:30 this morning. Much earlier than normal but he seemed fine.

We had breakfast and packed the camper van for our trip to see my parents.

En route to my home town of Haverhill in Suffolk to visit the ageing paroids (like parents but also not quite human as we know it , hence the android tag-on) I glanced in the mirror to see Frank's normally rosy and healthy face turn a rather alarming shade of green.

"Are you OK, Franky?"

Frank stares at me blankly, looking rather spaced out.

"Are you wobbly?"

He shakes his head.

"Are you hungry?"

He shakes it again.

We drive through Chappel and under the beautiful viaduct and I am glancing back in the mirror a lot rather than watching the road.

He turns greener.

"Shall I stop the van, Frank?"

He nods.

Suddenly a Jack Russell terrier runs out into the road and I very narrowly miss ironing it with the front wheels of the van.

Into Earl's Colne and I pull over at the Primary School that I know quite well.

Quiet road not much traffic.

I climb into the back of the van.

Frank looks very pale and green, green, green.

We decide to head home as my Mum only came out of hospital yesterday and we don't want to give her anything to make her turn green as well.

Almost home, just a mile to go, and Frank coughs and follows this up with (rather spectacular, I must say) throwing up all over himself, his colouring books, his new Spud the Scarecrow toy (it's a Bob the Builder thang) and a great part of the van.

Jackson Pollock could not have done a better job.

Oh, joy ...

I clean him up and we get home to put him on the sofa , where his colour returns and he sleeps.

In an hour he moves from 14.9 to 3.1.

Juice and a biscuit.

Cuddle and more sleep.

He smiles at me sleepily.

I am his Mama and feel like a bear with her cub.

This is where I belong.

***********************

This time last year on my birthday weekend I was in hospital with Frank as he had gastroenteritis. Vomiting and Type 1 don't make happy bed fellows (I love that phrase, so 1950s and camp!).

Today as I contemplate another trip to the Children's Ward I realise I am much less fazed by the idea. I have come a long way in my understanding of this condition and what is needed to keep Frank from harm.

I am more confident in dealing with it at home without rushing him to hospital.

As we were released from hospital almost 18 months ago now after his diagnosis one of the fantastic, humane and humorous nurses told me that in one year I would be more of an expert than she was. Especially in relation to Frank's diabetes and his body.

I realise the wisdom and truth of her comment today.

Andrew and I are the experts in our son's care.

And so I end today's post tired but content and send all my best wishes to parents of children with Type 1 Diabetes, that uninvited guest that just won't go home, but especially those newly diagnosed.

You will find strength in yourselves that you never knew you had.

What you are dealing with is non-negotiable.

You have to be there and deal with it BUT you are not alone.

Take care of yourselves and take it a day at a time.

Find joy wherever you can.

My love to you all.

Jules

xxxxx

43

I turned 43 today.

I feel it and look it!

A year and a half of dealing with T1D has aged me.

Being a year and a half older has also aged me.

These are the pearls of wisdom I offer you today.

The day I became a year older.

The day Sev took me out for breakfast to The Food Company for eggs Benedict and coffee.

The day I took flapjacks to my Knit and Natter group.

The day Frank cried at lunchtime because I wasn't there to give him his injection and sometimes only Mummy will do.

The day my Mum went into hospital for a wrist operation.

And the day my love took me out to see the English/Argentinian (with Tango music) Romeo and Juliet at the Mercury Theatre.

A good day.