A Little Somethin’ Somethin for my Mommas and Betics and A Sneak Peek!

Tonight, my best friend is flying in from California with her kiddies to see me for a little less than 2 weeks. I am beyond excited and will most likely be busy visiting (since I’ve seen her once in the past almost 3 years!) I figured, rather than leave you with nothing, I would leave you with a little somethin’ somethin’ to remember me while I’m on blog-vaca.

For my diabetic readers:

(please keep in mind that if you can’t laugh at yourself, then what CAN you laugh at? I don’t find diabetes to be a joke… no need to get all righteous here, but I can laugh at my disease, can you?)







This is my 99th post! If you can math, then you will know that my following post will be the big 1-0-0! Pretty exciting stuff. I want to do something fun for it (like a GIVEAWAY!) I have a little while to think about it but some input would be nice too. IF you have any suggestions, leave them in the comment box below and maybe we’ll go for it!

Remember to stay tuned and check back to see what’s going on for my 100th blog-aversary!


10 Ways Living With a Toddler is Like Being in Prison


As a parent, your schedule is often dictated by the needs of your child, especially when that child is young. With that in mind, many aspects of the parenting experience could be compared with prison – complete with a sadistic little warden who harbors a Napoleon complex. ;)

10 Ways Having a Toddler is Like Being in Prison

  • You can’t do anything without constant supervision
  • Every morning begins with someone screaming at you to wake up
  • You’re always terrified something bad will happen when you’re in the shower
  • You’re always terrified someone is going to crawl into your bed in the middle of the night
  • Meal time is fraught with tension
  • Someone’s always watching you go to the bathroom
  • You never get to choose the movie and then it’s hard to hear it over all the hooting and hollering
  • You’re always terrified someone is going to punch, bite, tackle, stab or attack you with some kind of makeshift weapon
  • Contraband — like booze, chocolate and adult entertainment — must be smuggled in and consumed in secret
  • Conjugal visits are hard to come by, require intense scheduling, and are often interrupted


BONUS: One Way Having a Toddler is NOT Like Being in Prison

  • Being placed in solitary confinement is a reward, not a punishment

(source: huffpostparentsDad and Buried)


Cheapskates. (I Have A Problem)

Recently, there has been some community wide disappointment with the school district here. I’m not really getting into all that, but I am jumping on the bandwagon….. sort of.

I am disappointed, but not because of taxes and blah blah blah, I’m disappointed because I come on here or on facebook and see all these moms sending their little ones off to their first day of Pre-K at the school, and I can’t. Boo.

I called and called around and found that the only way my kids can go to pre-k through the school district is if they have special needs which, thankfully, they don’t.

In a time when so many kids go to pre-k it’s almost become necessary, I find it insane that you still expect parents to have to pay for it. Am I bitching? Yes. Complaining? Well, yeah. But, do I feel justified? Absolutely. 

It bums me out that I can’t afford to send Haley to pre-k, and because of that, I feel like she’s going to be behind, She is a brilliant child, and I do work with her at home, but because kindergarten here is full day, I feel like she’s really going to be in for a shocker when she gets there.

There are a lot of tax dollars flowing into this district, and to not fund a pre-k program is silly, when there are districts with less funding doing so.

That being said, it’s Haley’s last week at camp, so I hope it’s a fun one! To camp we go!



Harper is a screamer.

Not a scream-crier, not a tantrum-screamer (I mean, she is – but that’s not what I’m talking about), but a scream-because-i-can-er. A scream-because-i’m-bored-er, a scream-because-i-want-to-come-out-of-bed-er, a scream-because-i-can’t-do-something-er, a scream-because-i’m-happy-er… you get it. Let me stress again that she doesn’t cry, but screeches at the top of her lungs.

I’m ripping my eardrums out.

I.CAN’T.STAND.IT.ANYMORE. (I’m going crazy..)

I find myself screaming back at her, or shutting down, walking away, laughing, and a whole array of other things. I looked online and there was no help there. Anyone have any ideas? Ignoring it doesn’t work and I just don’t know that I’m going to make it until she learns to use words in place of the screaming.

New Insulin Type: Haterade XL!?

That’s right. Haterade XL. Apparently all diabetics are taking it. It’s injectable, so it’s quick acting, and the “XL” means that it’s extended release; guaranteed to make you an a-hole all day long! I know it’s not just diabetics that are taking it, but that’s what I’m talking about at this time.

All over Facebook, comments in forums, and even on here (*probably) I see this war between type 1 and type 2 diabetics over who has it worse. I’m not here to take sides, and I’m not here to point out the differences.. (you can read up on that here! gotta educate!) My question is: Who cares?

Why does one group have to be sicker, worse off, or anything else than the other? Why be happy about that?! If you want to compete like children, compete to see who can control their numbers best, person for person… not who is more beat than the other. I’m tired of it. Tired of seeing it, tired of feeling guilty reading some of these stories, tired of getting angry when I read a type 1 discredit type 2 diabetes all together, as if it weren’t a real disease because they don’t need insulin, and tired of seeing a type 2 tell a type 1 they are better off because they are “used to it” and “just hook up to a pump”. If you were a decent person, you would put aside your bitterness and cheer on those who don’t have to take the same road you follow; maybe you can help one person be better off.

But we would rather fight each other.

How about, instead, we support each other in our journey and battle, be there when we need someone to listen, and wish each other the best, understand that every fight is different and difficult in its own way?

Just a thought.


My New Diet Plan!

Yesterday was a morning like every other one: Harper woke me up by screaming at the top of her lungs (not crying, just screaming for fun), Haley let herself into the room to wake me up some more (in case the screaming didn’t work, I guess), hubs was at work, and I begrudgingly stomped out of bed, grabbed the baby, changed a diaper and headed straight to the kitchen for feeding time at the zoo. Bleary-eyed, I grabbed two cups, filled them each half way with water, grabbed two breakfast bars, and headed to the fridge for 2 kids yogurts, the juice, and some greek yogurt for myself (I have no idea how I manage to remember all these things while so sleepy…). That’s when my new diet plan hit me in the face like ton of bricks.  I opened the fridge and there it was: A freaking spider. Just chillin’ there. Dangling from a strand of evil, guarding the contents of my fridge with his man-eating fang-face. NOPE.

Now, am I exaggerating? Eh. Maybe a little? Hell no. That was a messed up thing to do to me first thing in the morning, spider.

What did I do? 

Shut that door and walked the hell away. The kids got a juice box from under the kitchen cart, I ate nothing for breakfast, and the kids got 2 breakfast bars a piece. Do I feel badly about that? Not. One. Bit. Nope. It was way too early for that crap.

So, of course I tell hubs all about this horrible thing that happened to me and he laughed, telling me that he was going to put spiders in the fridge all the time as my diet plan! Dammit. He was right! That bug-eyed bastard kept me out of the fridge all day! I did have to check all over and reach in for the coffee creamer (thank God it was right in the front!) because well, let’s face it, a day without coffee is hardly a day at all.

So folks, that does it. Want to curb your eating? Just pop a spider in the fridge. If you’re anything like me, you’ll never open that thing again!