Play Time.

Next to exercise, I swear that play time with my littlest friend is better at bringing down my blood sugar than insulin! (Of course, I understand that this isn't really the case, but that the exercise/playing games with Doodle makes my insulin work more efficiently).

Yesterday, messing around with Doodle meant my blood sugar kind of hung out in the trenches. 

3.9mmol

...

Glucose tabs. For both me and Doodle, who is rather fond of "Auntie Vicki's Special Sweeties".

...

3.6mmol

More glucose tabs. Except the kid was in bed for this second low blood sugar, so I didn't have to share.

I know that Doodle somewhat understands diabetes, thanks to E.Hales, my best friend, for weaving it into his life as appropriate. He knows how to check my blood sugar, and he understands that sometimes sweets are sweets, and sometimes they're medicine. And he also knows that I wear an insulin pump, although he just says "it gives Auntie Vicki her medicine so she can play" (he's three years old, so things are kept very simple). 

More often than not, I love how much he knows about my diabetes. But sometimes, it breaks my heart as well. Yesterday, he asked me where my pump was so that he could be careful with it when we were playing. Him remembering made me smile and I was so proud of the fact he did. But I was also saddened by the fact that it is something he is aware of.

Most of the time, I'm okay with my diabetes. It's my "new normal", and has been for the last four and a bit years now. It's become my family's normal, my friends' normal, and now my godson's normal. 

Today, however, I'm just wishing it wasn't the case.