Chuck E. Cheese party for a diabetic six year old

 

There are many times people have said to me, "Don't worry, Shar, that little boy is going to be just fine." I would accept what they were saying, in spite of Rocco’s Type 1 diabetes, but I never really believed it in my heart. Until today...

 

We’ve had birthday parties galore lately. For a child with Type 1 diabetes, birthday parties can be very hard to deal with.

 

The main reason is that birthday parties are full of carbs! Usually, the main dish is pizza. Then there are treats - cake, ice cream, juice boxes, lemonade, chips, M&M’s, etc... The list goes on. All of these carbs spike blood sugar.  Also, with all of these carbs, there is usually a bounce house, or a trampoline, or a germy crawl maze. Carbs and excitement raise blood sugar. Insulin and exercise bring blood sugar down.

 

Blood sugar within a normal range is always the goal.  The problem is that the combination of the excitement, the carbs, the insulin and the exercise can send a kid into a roller coaster of blood sugars. All within the two hour duration of the party and the five hours it takes to even out the child once you get him home.

 

That being said, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE continue to invite our children with diabetes to your parties. The above-mentioned blood sugar issues are temporary and can be managed. The only thing worse than having diabetes at a birthday party is not getting invited to a birthday party because you have diabetes.   We, the parents, can and will work it out. Thank you in advance!

 

So, today, after some prep work with Rocco, I sent Zeke and Rocco off to a Chuck E. Cheese party.

 

Last year, I bought Zeke and Rocco a cell phone. Buying a cell phone for five year olds – Lord help me with this crazy world in which I live!  They were invited to party at a local play place and I just couldn't let Rocco go without some sort of communication. I didn't feel comfortable always calling the mom and asking to speak with my usually sweaty boy on her cell phone. Believe me, I have tried every way around this.

 

One time, I sat in a folding chair as the only adult in someone's basement for two hours while seventeen five-year-old boys ran around me screaming and playing Star Wars. 

It looked a lot like this picture I found but in a basement.

I had to wait for the pizza to get there so I could see how big the piece was and then give Rocco his insulin. The adults were upstairs, but it was a family party and after the first half hour I just felt weird and in the way.  So I snuck downstairs and found myself sitting in the folding chair surrounded by testosterone filled boys! The pizza was late to arrive, so I was held hostage. It was terrible! There HAD to be a better way.  

 

So I thought I would buy them a cell phone so he could call me when it was time for me to check him and give him his insulin. At least then I could sit outside in my car during the party!  Ugh! 

It was so weird teaching a five year old how to work his phone. At least I had the where-with-all to get a simple flip phone that was free at Verizon! I figured I would wait until they were six to buy a smart phone. LOL!

 

But today is a ton better. Now Rocco knows how to check his blood sugar and he also knows how to work his pump. And that little flip phone is our lifeline.

 

So, for this Chuck E. Cheese party, I told Rocco to check his blood sugar before he ate. Then, call me with the number and the approximate size of the slice of pizza. I told him to compare it to a piece of Little Ceasars Hot and Ready pizza.  He knows the size of that one.

 

I then told him he should bring him a can of diet caffeine free Dr Pepper. Hey, it worked for the Valentines party. Why not?

 

Then we talked about cake. I took a piece of note paper and folded it in half.  I said, "Let me know if it is bigger or smaller than this piece of paper."  We also talked about frosting. I drew a cake on the paper and told him the difference in carbs by the type of slice he had. The difference between a middle piece and a corner piece with all the frosting was about 10 carbs. He was surprised but he understood the concept and was proud to have the knowledge.

 

I was proud of myself for coming up with the idea of the folded piece of paper, until my six year old looked at me and said "Ok mom, but why don't I just take a picture of the pizza and cake and text it to you?"

 

I nearly fell on the floor!

 

He said, "I think I remember how. Say cheese."  He snapped a picture, typed in my phone number and pressed send. As fast as a sixteen-year-old girl would have. Wow!  

 

So, two hours later while he is in the germfest party, my little guy called me.

 

"Hi mom" he said in his little six-year-old voice (I will never get used to this). "I'm at 68 and I’d like to have a piece of pizza and my pop."

 

"Ok, you are a little low. So go ahead and have a half a glass of the fruit punch first, then the pizza, then the cake. Is the piece of cake bigger or smaller than the piece of paper?", I asked.

 

"Smaller."

 

"Ok, is the pizza bigger or smaller than a Hot and Ready slice?"

 

"It's about half the size."

 

"Ok honey, tell the pump you are 68 and you will have 50 carbs." I say a small prayer as I always do that I got the number right. I undershot the carbs by about 10 to be conservative and because of the exercise level.

 

He then says, "Ok mom, I am going to set the phone on the table while I press the pump buttons, so you will hear some people talking and some music". 

 

OMG! He is so stinking cute! 

 I wait.

 

He picks the phone up and says, "The pump wants to give me 1.4 units."

 

"Good, press the OK button", I say.

 

We hang up. I smile to myself thinking about how far we have come. From a steel crib in the hospital to cell phone conversations.

 

Twenty minutes later, I get a text. He sent me this picture! 

 

I sent him a text back that says,"Perfect!"

 

Thinking we had accomplished our task at hand, I put my phone back in my purse but it beeped again.

I looked and read, "ok sonds good". 

So yep, you all were right my little boy is going to be juuuussst fine!

 

church

 

Dare I broach the topic of religion?  Why not. I have a story that will make you cringe and hopefully make you laugh.

 

I like going to church. That being said, I hardly ever go. I have been going on and off my whole life, but I tend to go on a "when I feel like it" schedule. I sit in the very last row because, even in traffic, I have a thing about people behind me. So, I sit in the last row. I am comfortable there.

 

The boys tried Sunday school last year but said it was boring.  So, when I brought them this year they sat with me in the "big area" (as they call the part of the church where the adults sit)they loved the main part of the church. The high wooden ceilings and organ intrigue them!  So there was no groaning when we left today. I was surprised. 

 

We got there a little early and Rocco led us straight to the back pew. He was excited that we got the same seats as we had last time. We started to sit, but he said he couldn't see anything, so I said he could pick where we sit today. I should have known better that to ask my more aggressive twin. He always wants the biggest and best thing he can get. So, he leads us up a few pews. Then a few more. Then finally we reach... You guessed it... THE FRONT ROW!!

 

Grinning from ear to ear, the boys are thrilled. I am panic-stricken! I hate people behind me and now I have the whole congregation behind me. Not to mention, I usually just follow the people in front of me when it's time to sit, stand or kneel! I have no idea when I am supposed to do any of that. So, here I sit, terrified, next to my two little guys who can't stop chattering on about the candles, the stained glass and a whole bunch of other stuff that sounded like the "Peanuts" teacher. Waa waaa waaa! At this point, I can only hear my own heartbeat in my ears.

 

I act like everything's normal. The music starts to play. The pastor walks in with the other guy (not sure of his title).  He looks at me as he starts to speak. I can tell he is thinking, "Who the heck are you three?" and "Why are you in the front row?” I look behind me and there is no one else for 10 pews!  God, might as well have shined a light right on our heads because we were so obvious. Only the old ladies who know what they are doing sit in the front row! Why am I sitting here? Do you go to hell if you kill your child in church? Just asking!

 

Holy crap! (no pun intended). The pressure was on. I not only have a pastor staring me down but now an entire congregation is watching what me and my two six-year-olds are doing looking to us for the next que. I thought of that saying that we should "do something every day that scares you." Done! Terrified here!

 

So I managed to gather myself up and read through the prayer cheat sheet to know when to sit, stand or pray. It was all going rather well until Rocco got obsessed by the Communion. He wanted to go up. Then he didn't. Then he did. I finally told him he couldn't because they didn't let kids. I needed to shut him up before the pastor saw us whispering. Six-year-olds either whisper too quietly or way to loud, don't they? 

 

Now, I have taken the Communion before at other churches, but not at this church. When you are in the back row no one notices you, so there’s no pressure to go up. But, when you are in the front row, you start the whole church going up to the altar. I now have to watch the boys to make sure they are not hitting each other or slinking in the pew, but I also have to look the other way toward the usher who is going to start the whole thing with me. I wished I had two heads for the first time in my life. Actually, I lie. Two heads would also have come in handy when the twins were entering their “terrible two’s” phase!

 

I get up (at the right time I think!) and I get to the pastor. He puts the wafer in my hand. I take it, say “Thank you”, remembering only later in the day that the proper response is “Amen”.  Then I immediately start to step to the right. Isn’t that the way they usually do it? Not today. As I start to step away, the pastor begins to say a three-sentence blessing over me. He raises his eyebrows while he is saying the first sentence as if to say, "Step back here, little girl, I am not done yet."  I turn beat red, give a little embarrassed smile.  When he is finished, I walk right past the wine guy. Heck with the wine! I can't handle that right now! I sit back down, wanting to melt into the floor and Rocco says, "See mom! The kids can go up". I look over and the pastor is now making a cross on a five-year-old's forehead. I tell Rocco that he can go up and get blessed but they don't give kids the wafers. He rolls his eyes. I giggle a little at him and he says "What? I'm hungry!"

Then he whispers way too loudly, "Mom, can you see in heaven?" At least he is paying attention. 

 

We settle back in while the pastor reads "the big loooong part" as the kids called it. Now it's time for the offering. Zeke is especially excited about this part. He loves money! He remembers the big pile of money from last time. When you sit in the back row, the money pile is huge. When you are in the front row, the bowl is empty. I think he was disappointed. I pull out the small wad of dollar bills that I had separated out for this purpose. But, as I start to pass it to the usher, I feel something trapped inside the dollar bills. I am not sure if it is a wadded up Target receipt or a bloodied-up test strip from one of Rocco’s blood glucose tests.  So I start to drop it in but first feel a little deeper at the bills. But it appeared as if I changed my mind and didn't want to give that much! The whole church was watching! I was mortified and just let it go. Hopefully it wasn't a used test strip! Ugh! Is this over yet?

 

The rest of the service went fine, except toward the end Zeke was "starrrrrvvviingg" and started to kind of lay down in the pew. I grabbed him toward me and put my arm around him, hoping my attention would pacify him. But his head hit my boob and he looked at me, gave me a devilish grin and to be silly, patted my boob!! Boys! Omg! Please start the "go home" song!

 

Next time, we will sit in our assigned seats in the back.

 

As we were leaving, I was able to sneakily snap this picture. I got caught by the money usher who asked me if I wanted him to take it of all three of us. Oh God (no pun intended!)