The One With Captain Novolin

I'm noticing that a lot of my posts from K's visit involve my Super Nintendo in some form or another. I think I'm OK with that. SNES needs some love.

So, you all know I'm a big flaming diabetic, right? How even though I have this giant disease, I usually avoid talking about it?

A month and a half or so ago, my insulin pump went haywire, and it made me do some serious re-evaluating of my life. Since then, I've been Super 'Betes Girl, keeping my blood sugar where it needs to be, and realizing that just because I don't talk about it, that doesn't make it any less real or any less serious. (In case you forget, I'm a Type 1, insulin-dependent diabetic. . .none of this Type 2 control-with-diet-and-exercise stuff.)

The other day, I was standing at the sink, and, unbeknownst to me, the 42-inch tubing I'm using currently got wrapped around the handle of the cabinet in front of me. As I went to walk away, the tube got pulled, pulling the pump out of my pocket, and making it clatter on the floor. I yelled a G-rated word (since I was watching K), and she asked what had happened.

"My pump fell on the floor," I said.

"What's a pump?" she asked.

A teaching moment!

In language a 7-year-old could understand, I told her that in your body, you've got something called a pancreas. The pancreas makes insulin, which is something your body needs to use the food you eat to give you energy. If you don't have insulin, you get very sick. My pancreas doesn't work right, so I have to give myself insulin. The pump I have here acts like a pancreas, giving me insulin throughout the day so I don't get sick.

K nodded. I could tell I'd sort of lost her, but she said, "Oh, OK."

Teaching moment, shmeaching moment.

So about three days ago, she is, again, playing the Super Nintendo. She pulls out a game and says, "What's this?"

"This" was. . .Captain Novolin.

For those of you not in the know (which I'm guessing is. . .most of you), Captain Novolin is a game that I received when I was 8 or 9. The graphics are pretty bad, the evil dudes are disguised as sugary snacks (jumpin' killer jelly donuts, Batman!) and are difficult to kill, but it's still one of the best. games. EVER.

Captain Novolin is a diabetic superhero. Throughout the game, you have to make sure he follows the meal plan his doctor gave him, so his blood sugar doesn't go too high or too low.

It sounds like a drag, I'm aware. But it's actually fairly awesome. My parents gave it to me and I've played it ever since.

Using this as another Teaching Moment, I tried to make the game sound awesome, to entice K into playing.

"That's Captain Novolin!" I said in my best "this is going to be AWESOME!" voice. "He's a superhero who's diabetic, like me!"

She looked dubious.

But then she stuck the game in the console and powered it up.

I walked her through the beginning of the game, showing her how to "give an insulin injection," explaining how to eat the proper balance of foods at meals, and how to "check your blood sugar."

She started to play and, since it's not an especially well-made or easy-to-figure-out game, she got frustrated quickly. I was afraid I'd lose my TM, so I said, "Hey! Do you want me to play through and show you how to do it?" She said yes, so I spent the next few minutes all excited about insulin shots and proper diets.

And believe it or not, she is ALL INTO IT now. I'll be in the kitchen and hear, "Aw, man! I accidentally ate an extra apple! Now my blood sugar's going to be high!" It's a beautiful thing.

Does she understand the minute details of the 'betes? No, probably not. But I feel like we've had a Moment. And that's awesome.

Unfortunately, the game is having some issues I've never had with it before. The screen is randomly messing up, and preventing the continuing of playing. I looked for a new one on both Amazon and eBay, and I can't find it for less than $25. So if any of you out there in blog land see a copy of Captain Novolin anywhere for less than that, I'd appreciate you letting me know.

Maybe whenever I have kids, I can use the good Captain to help me teach them about the 'betes, too.


Edit: Holy crap, you guys. When the game first came out, it cost $59.95. My parents were badass! I'd still like to find it for less than $25, though. . .

The One With the Yearbooks

K brought her Nintendo Wii along with her for her two-week visit, and I am quite pleased and satisfied to say that it's still tucked away in the bag she brought it in. She's been playing, basically non-stop, my old circa 1993 Super Nintendo. It makes me proud.

One of the games she especially loves is Mario Paint. You can't play it with the controllers -- you have to use the mouse that came with the game. It also has a mousepad that goes with it, but I've misplaced that somewhere back at my dad's house. I still have it, but I haven't made the effort to track it down. As such, when you play the game, you have to have some kind of flat surface to put the mouse on. A couple of nights ago, I noticed that K had pulled one of my old yearbooks off the shelf to use as the mousepad.

When she'd finished playing, I picked up the yearbook and told her that it was my 2nd grade yearbook. She's going into 2nd grade this year, so that piqued her interest. She looked up my picture and told me how cute I was.

Then she proceeded to through all my yearbooks, looking for my picture, and making commentary on and asking things about stuff I'd written in the books.

"Why does this girl have her face colored in?"
"Because she was mean to me."
"I have a friend that's mean to me."
"If she's mean to you, why is she your friend?"
"Well, she used to do this every time I looked at her." (Rolls her eyes and puts on bitchface.)
"Does she still do it?"
"No. We're friends now."

The politics of 1st graders.

"Why did you put checkmarks beside these people?"
"Those were my friends."
"I have lots of friends."

Then I showed her my elementary school boyfriend (my longest-term relationship to date, lasting from kindergarten until 4th grade, when I left to go to a different school). He just got married, incidentally.

"Cute," K said.

She shuffled through the yearbooks for a while longer until she got to high school.

"Why do three of these say 'high school' on them?"
"Because I was at that high school for three years. I was at a different school for 9th grade."
"Four years?"
"Yeah. High school lasts four years."
"No it doesn't."
"Yeah it does."
"I won't be in high school for four years."
"I bet you will."

She told me I was pretty in all of my high school pictures. (Why can't EVERYONE look at people like kids do?)

Then I said, "Hey, I'll show you my boyfriend from 11th grade." I paged through the Junior class until I came to his picture. I pointed it out to her.

She didn't say anything. She just laughed. I'm not sure why, but she just laughed.

And that's why we get along.

The One With the Picky Eater and the Cake

K is a picky eater.

She doesn't like to try new things, and if you ask her if she wants to experience something new, usually, she'll say no. Generally, if you cajole her into trying something new, whether she likes it or not, she'll make this face, to prove a point:

She also doesn't like frosting. This actually isn't so unbelievable, because most frostings on store-bought cakes and cupcakes are teeth-vibratingly sweet. She's very adamant about the fact that she doesn't like frosting.

I was watching K last night while D was out working, and I told her I had to make a Big Gay Cake for my Big Gay Book club. (Well, actually, I just told her it was for my book club.), and she was watching me make the cake, sad that she couldn't have any of it until after the meeting.

I finished the cake part, and said, "OK, now I have to make the frosting." (Side Note: Boxed cake mixes and canned frostings are not allowed in my kitchen unless they're being used in a recipe for something else entirely.) She made the face like she'd eaten something terrible and said, "I don't like frosting!" and I said, "Good thing the cake's not for you." She blinked at me and ran off, singing/chanting with her face all colors of the rainbow, having literally stuck her face in the bowls to lick the remnants of cake batter.

She'd been licking the bowls, spatulas, and beaters and was already pretty hopped up on sugar, so she was literally bouncing around the apartment, making up songs about whatever was going on. ("Sarah's making a cake! La la la la la!! It's got lots of colors!!! La la la la la!!!! I'm going to play Super Nintendo now!!!!! La la la la la!!!!!!)

I mixed the buttercream frosting and she bounced back in, and just watched, eyeing the frosting suspiciously.

She inched closer to it, eyed it, and said, "Me try?" (Yes, she's 7. I'm not sure where the baby talk she occasionally lapses into comes from.) I said she could, and she stuck her finger into the bowl. After she tried it, it was like she had discovered a whole new world.

A whole new sugar-laden world.



Seems she didn't like frosting because she'd never had the good stuff.


Now she's all excited for me to get home from book club, because she wants a full piece (not just bits and pieces) of cake.

Also, this is what I found on our grocery list this morning:



Also, here is the cake, before and after frosting (I'll have a picture of it sliced after book club tonight):

The One Where I Don't Have to Compromise

Yes, it's been months. Yes, I'm sorry. No, I don't have a long, substantial entry. Just an observation.

K has been here for the last 8 days, and will be here for the next 6. She has been. . .7 a lot of the time. That is to say, wholly disagreeable.

"Do you want to go to the store with me?"
"No, I don't want to."

"Do you want to have pizza for dinner?"
"No, I don't want to."

"Do you want to check out some library books?"
"No, I don't want to."

Besides that, it's been fine.

The thing that I discovered last night, though, is the little-known secret of parenting, step- or otherwise. With kids, you don't have to compromise, and it's glorious.

Say you're riding along in a car with an adult, whether your partner or otherwise, and they say, "I don't like this song." You would most likely feel compelled to compromise, to find something different that you can both agree on.

With kids, though, you're in charge. Unless you're doing something patently offensive, you can pretty much do whatever you feel like.

I worked the night shift at the library last night, and didn't get off until 9. D decided to go out and work, and so I had to bring K home with me from work. I'd been looking forward to getting back to my audio book on the way home (since it's about a half hour drive, I have plenty of time to listen to audio books) and didn't think I needed to deviate from that plan just because I suddenly had K in the car.

We're riding along for about 10 minutes, and she pipes up from the back, "I don't like this."

"Well," I said, "it's the book I'm listening to right now."

I didn't need to explain. I didn't need to compromise. That was the book I was listening to. Period.

There were no further complaints.

It was awesome.

The One Where I'm Getting Old

You all know that my sister, Katie, graduated. She's heading to ECU at the end of the month. This has caused me a great deal of anxiety for two reasons. . .first of all, Katie isn't supposed to be in college. She's supposed to be, like, 12.

(She was actually 12 here)

Secondly, it's making me go, "Oh my GOD! I'm SO OLD!"

(Note: OK, people over 25. I'm AWARE that 25 is Not That Old. I'm really tired of people telling me that. I KNOW. But you know what? You've been 25 before. I have not. To ME, it feels old. Just because you're 30, 40, 55, whatever doesn't mean that you have a right to roll your eyes at me when I say I feel old. Because I do. So shut your whore mouth.)

D's kid, Kelly, is here visiting until the beginning of next week. Last night, we had to take two cars to this guy's house to give back the car D had borrowed while his was in the shop. Kelly rode with me, since my car has air conditioning, and the car D was driving did not.

We'd just shopped for school supplies, so we were discussing 1st grade. Kelly asked me what 1st grade was like, and I told her what I remembered: we did reading, and math, and spelling, and music, and art. . .stuff like that. Then I said, "Yeah, I was in first grade. . .20. . .years ago."

. . . . . . .

I was in 1st grade 20 years ago. Oh my GOD.

When Kelly is my age, I will be almost 45. OH MY GOD.

My 10-year high school reunion will be in 2 1/2 years. That's not AS horrifying, because it's not happening NOW, but man.

I feel like I literally just left high school. And I'm more than halfway to my 10-year reunion.

I was trying to think of some stuff to get Katie for her college move-in. I tried remembering things that I didn't have when I started college that I needed. I couldn't remember much about my freshman year. It wasn't THAT long ago, but I've already forgotten everything except how miserable I was the first semester and the 20 pounds I gained.

Time's slipping on by, and I kind of feel like I'm getting lose in the shuffle. Because I'm not DOING anything.

I need to DO something.