The Bottomless Pit (or Pit Happens!)




Today was one of those days where my daughters simply could not get enough food. 

It started with this morning's breakfast:  1/2 cup of raw oats, microwaved with a healthy dose of milk, brown sugar and cinnamon.  The bowl of oatmeal was washed down with not the normal one, but two glasses of milk.

Less than a half hour later, youngest daughter walks back into the kitchen and grabs her meter.  This is my cue that she is either feeling low or hungry.  As she checks her blood sugar, I see her looking over to our pantry. 

The meter rings out a bg of 212.

Not surprising as they just ate.

"Mom, I am hunnnngrrrry.  Can I eat this?", youngest daughter whines while already opening a granola bar.

"Um, sure.  If you are hungry.  Just count carbs and dose."

"I know.  I know." Youngest daughter rolls her eyes which is comical because she doesn't quite grasp the way to do it.  Instead, she looks up and down. 

But I get the picture.  She knows.

One of our rules is that the girls can eat anytime they want, as long as they check their blood sugars, count carbs and dose the correct amount of insulin.

I think I must sound annoying because I tend to say it.  A lot. 

I can't help it.  I am mama.

In a second of the pump beeping that first unit of insulin, oldest daughter comes racing into the kitchen. 

The beep sound cuts through any noise, any time, any where.  If my children were lost, I think I would whip out the meter to cue them on the way to get back.

"I am hungry too!", says oldest daughter grabbing her tester and a granola bar simultaneously. 

An hour or so later, the girls are back.  They are giggling and talking about making something.  I am two rooms away but I hear the words, "lunch", "starving" and "hot cocoa". 

I shout through the walls to see what they are up to.  Silence and then more giggles.

As I walk into the kitchen, the girls are busy making cocoa.  The blood sugar meters are on the countertop and lancet caps and strips are mixed in with chocolate and mini marshmallows. 

"16 carbs and I already dosed Mom!", says my oldest daughter proudly beaming up at me.  She has a chocolate smudge across her nose and a big grin to go with it.   

My youngest daughter is tucked into the refrigerator.  She is still so small that she nearly has to climb shelves to reach up.  Before I can get over to help her, she is holding up a spray can of whipped topping.

"Free!", she says. 

But a lunch is not just hot cocoa, so I serve up some cheese, lunch meat and Ritz crackers to add a little extra protein.  I foolishly think that this should contain their hunger for at least a few more hours.

The day continues on with more eating and more testing and more dosing.

Two more snacks and at last dinner.  I make pulled bbq chicken which usually brings out a "yuck" or two, but tonight, they eat it all. 

At this point, I am eyeballing their stomachs.  How is it all fitting in there?  Where is the food going?"

Blood sugar numbers stay stable and nothing goes too high or too low.  Which is a nice surprise in the middle of this eating party.

By bed time and with a last minute bedtime snack of a bowl of cereal, I am exhausted.

The constant monitoring of everything that has been going into their mouths is exhausting. 

But instead of focusing on the diabetes, I think of my neighbor who has three large growing boys.

And I wonder if it is like this at their house?

And should I measure the girls to see if they really do grow in their sleep?