Help for School

I have had several questions about how we work with Hugh’s school and nurses concerning his Type 1 Diabetes. I would like to share where I got many of my ideas.

One of the main sources that I went to for school information was the D-Mom Blog. This mom has wonderful ideas about how to work with school staff in a cooperative and respectful way. Her book, KIDS FIRST Diabetes Second, was also a great resource for me when Hugh was first diagnosed.

Another mom that I follow closely has a blog entitled The Princess and the Pump. This mom is also a teacher, so she has lots of great ideas to help with diabetes at school. The Diabetes Fact page that I pass out to all of Hugh’s teachers comes directly from her, and I have found it extremely useful.

Of course, JDRF has many resources for parents sending their children to school for the first time with Type 1. This organization will send a free school kit to anyone who requests it, and I have used it many times when connecting with teachers and school nurses.

The most important thing that I try to do, however, is to make a personal connection with Hugh’s teachers, nurses, and the support staff at his school. I realize that being a teacher is a hard, emotionally and physically taxing job (thanks to the fact that I am also a teacher and come from a long line of teachers). I am aware that Hugh is not the only child with special needs in the school and I am never demanding, rude, or threatening when dealing with anyone at his school.

No one deserves to be treated with disrespect, especially the people who are taking care of my child. Ever.

They have a difficult job in general, and taking care of Hugh does not make it easier. I support his teachers in any way I can, and I always make it clear that if something is not working for his class or his teachers, we are flexible.

The bottom line is, we WORK TOGETHER to do what is best for Hugh!

To the Mothers Taking Care of Other Mothers

This year, as my sweet little family celebrates Mother’s Day and all the wonderful mothers we have in our life, I started thinking about the Mothers who take care of other Mothers. As we all know, motherhood is one of the most beautiful and most difficult things we do in life, and we would not survive it if it weren’t for other mothers. And in the South, especially, we regard our Mothers as near heavenly creatures who have direct phone lines to God Himself. (Scott says we ended up with a dog because my mother prayed for the kids to get one and the next day a stray showed up in our yard.)

So . . . to all the Mothers who are taking care of other Mothers, here’s to you.

Here’s to the Mothers whose daughters have babies and who show up at their daughters’ homes to cook a meal, wash a load of clothes, cradle a sleeping newborn just to let the new mom sleep for a few hours. These Mothers understand the exhaustion and emotions of a new Mother, and comfort and encourage her as only a Mother can.

Here’s to the Mother-in-laws, who generously love and nurture their son’s wife, knowing that her support and encouragement make all the difference to a young Mother.

Here’s to the Mothers whose friends are Mothers and they know just how it feels to be going through life with toddlers. They show up with coffee and donuts as the kids run wild through the house and laugh or cry over this crazy life.

Here’s to the Mothers who are teachers and understand how hard it is for Mothers to send their littles off to school every morning with homework done, teeth brushed, and backpacks packed, and who give those Mothers lots of grace when it doesn’t quite get all done.

Here’s to the Mothers who have experienced the teenage years and tell other Mothers who are just at the beginning that everything will be ok. That they will survive it and may even end up liking their kids a little bit more on the other side.

Here’s to the Mothers who smile at other Mothers with kids running in circles in the grocery store and then help them unload their cart onto the check-out counter.

Here’s to the Mothers who are nurses and who give an encouraging hug and kind words to a Mother when her child is sick or hurting.

Here’s to the Mothers who laugh with other Mothers when they share a story about potty-training or puberty or dating.

Here’s to the Mothers who cry with other Mothers when there are no words to describe the pain.

Here’s to the Mothers who had no children of their own, but care for other Mothers’ children as if they were their own.

Here’s to the Mothers who extend a hand of help and grace to other Mothers in desperate times – passing out emergency food, collecting supplies, offering shelter regardless of where the other Mother is from or what has happened in her life.

Here’s to the Mothers who are raising little Mothers-to-be, who show their daughters that women can be strong and kind and beautiful.

Here’s to the Mothers who are taking care of the Mothers who are wrinkled and worn – who have lived their lives and are nearing the end of their days here on Earth.

Here’s to the Mothers all over this world who take the time to care for other Mothers.

May we know you and may we be you.

Happy Mother’s Day

Sally

We’ve Done This Before

We have a new weather girl in town. She’s young, cute, and perky, and obviously not from Louisiana.

When it came time to prepare for the latest Hurricane to come our way, I have to admit y’all, she seemed a little excited. In all her excitement, she kept remembering things to tell us.

Don’t forget to get extra water.

And stock up on your medications.

Buy non-perishable food items for your pantry.

And don’t forget your pets.

Awe, sweet girl. It’s ok. We’ve done this before.

In Louisiana, we collect Hurricanes like Boy Scouts collect badges. We wear them proudly on our sleeves – Rita, Gustav, Betsy, Audrey, Katrina – and now Harvey. We have stories upon stories of how we survived. We listen to our parents talk of Betsy and Audrey like they are old friends.

So like I said, we’ve done this before.

As a child, I remember Hurricanes as days off from school, my mom lighting tall tapered candles that were only burned when the lights went out, picking up limbs from the yard after the towering pine tress lost their branches in the latest storm.

When I went to LSU as a young freshman with wings ready to take off, I was introduced to two new glorious words when a bad storm made its way up from the Gulf. Hurricane Party. This was a wonderful concept that consisted of throwing huge parties before, during, and after a Hurricane. You have to understand two things to grasp the full complexities of a Hurricane Party: 1) We were young. 2) LSU had just been voted the top party school in the nation and we had a reputation to uphold. I specifically remember my mom calling my dorm room during my first Hurricane in Baton Rouge and asking if I should come home. Not on your life, Mom. Not on your life.

As a newly married couple, Scott and I survived a few Hurricanes hunkered down in our tiny little cottage home with no electricity for several days. One of our first fights was over my Hurricane preparedness strategy that consisted of one thing:

No haters, please. Peanut butter and jelly mixed together just screams Hurricane ready. I mean, what else do you need? It has protein, fruit, and carbohydrates all combined into one.

Scott: Did you get water at the store?

Me: No

Scott: What about bread?

Me: No

Scott: Did you get anything we can survive on for the next few days?

Me: Of course! Peanut Butter and Jelly in a Jar!

Scott: (words I cannot publish)

Scott says we are not survivors, instead we are Die-Firsters. But I don’t care. We’ll see who is on top when he’s craving something a little nutty, yet a little sweet, and there is no peanut butter and jelly in a jar to be found anywhere in town.

Besides the fights we had over my obviously superior skills at preparing for Hurricanes, some of my fondest memories come from Hurricane days. I remember sitting on the front steps of our little cottage, my belly swollen and growing with a baby boy inside, and having friends pull into our driveway. Just checking on you. Ya’ll need anything?

I remember sitting at the kitchen table at friends’ homes, the windows up, the slight breeze blowing the sticky hair off my neck, talking, just talking. Because when there is no electricity and nothing to distract us, words flow more freely.

I remember the food. Y’all, this is something that every native Louisianan knows, but we eat the best during a Hurricane. When freezers start to thaw out and food is at risk of spoiling, we start cooking. Gumbo, fish, chicken on the grill. I remember tables full of food that friends and family had brought over one afternoon. We ate and laughed and ate some more. We knew that there was clean-up to do and hard work would soon start, but good food and good friends always come first here.

Of course, now that I have children of my own and one with medical needs, I take Hurricanes a little more seriously. I rehearse an evacuation drill in my mind like I’m preparing for a Broadway play. I repeat over and over in my head, Glucose meter, test strips, lancets, sugar, insulin. Then I whisper – Insulin, Insulin, Insulin. Remember Sally, he can’t live without insulin.

I admit, I have brief moments of panic when I think about where we would go if our home flooded, what we would do if we got separated, who would take care of my children. But then I remember, we’ve done this before.

We have a history with Hurricanes, but we also have a history of helping our neighbors. We take that as seriously as we take our Hurricanes. We get in our boats to rescue those who may be stranded, we show up ready to work at a shelter, we clean a neighbor’s yard, we tear sheetrock from flooded homes. We bring food to those who can’t cook for themselves, we fill sandbags for the neighborhood school, we read books to frightened children, and we take care of those who cannot take care of themselves.

And listen to me very closely here, because this is the most important part of it all – we never say no to someone who is not the same skin color as us. We don’t turn away those who voted for the other party. We don’t refuse to help someone living a different lifestyle from our own. We never have and we never will. We here in Louisiana know this, but I feel like the rest of the country needs to know this too.

When the waters recede and the media leaves town, when schools re-open and shelters close, when the sun shines again and the rains stop, we will still be here – Helping our neighbors.

We’ve done this before.

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So . . . to all the Mothers who are taking care of other Mothers, here’s to you.

Here’s to the Mother-in-laws, who generously love and nurture their son’s wife, knowing that her support and encouragement make all the difference to a young Mother.

Here’s to the Mothers whose friends are Mothers and they know just how it feels to be going through life with toddlers. They show up with coffee and donuts as the kids run wild through the house and laugh or cry over this crazy life.

Here’s to the Mothers who are teachers and understand how hard it is for Mothers to send their littles off to school every morning with homework done, teeth brushed, and backpacks packed, and who give those Mothers lots of grace when it doesn’t quite get all done.

Here’s to the Mothers who have experienced the teenage years and tell other Mothers who are just at the beginning that everything will be ok. That they will survive it and may even end up liking their kids a little bit more on the other side.

Here’s to the Mothers who smile at other Mothers with kids running in circles in the grocery store and then help them unload their cart onto the check-out counter.

Here’s to the Mothers who are nurses and who give an encouraging hug and kind words to a Mother when her child is sick or hurting.

Here’s to the Mothers who laugh with other Mothers when they share a story about potty-training or puberty or dating.

Here’s to the Mothers who cry with other Mothers when there are no words to describe the pain.

Here’s to the Mothers who had no children of their own, but care for other Mothers’ children as if they were their own.

Here’s to the Mothers who extend a hand of help and grace to other Mothers in desperate times – passing out emergency food, collecting supplies, offering shelter regardless of where the other Mother is from or what has happened in her life.

Here’s to the Mothers who are raising little Mothers-to-be, who show their daughters that women can be strong and kind and beautiful.

Here’s to the Mothers who are taking care of the Mothers who are wrinkled and worn – who have lived their lives and are nearing the end of their days here on Earth.

Here’s to the Mothers all over this world who take the time to care for other Mothers.

May we know you and may we be you.

Happy Mother’s Day

Sally

Share This:

We have a new weather girl in town. She’s young, cute, and perky, and obviously not from Louisiana.

When it came time to prepare for the latest Hurricane to come our way, I have to admit y’all, she seemed a little excited. In all her excitement, she kept remembering things to tell us.

Don’t forget to get extra water.

And stock up on your medications.

Buy non-perishable food items for your pantry.

And don’t forget your pets.

Awe, sweet girl. It’s ok. We’ve done this before.

In Louisiana, we collect Hurricanes like Boy Scouts collect badges. We wear them proudly on our sleeves – Rita, Gustav, Betsy, Audrey, Katrina – and now Harvey. We have stories upon stories of how we survived. We listen to our parents talk of Betsy and Audrey like they are old friends.

So like I said, we’ve done this before.

As a child, I remember Hurricanes as days off from school, my mom lighting tall tapered candles that were only burned when the lights went out, picking up limbs from the yard after the towering pine tress lost their branches in the latest storm.

As a newly married couple, Scott and I survived a few Hurricanes hunkered down in our tiny little cottage home with no electricity for several days. One of our first fights was over my Hurricane preparedness strategy that consisted of one thing:

No haters, please. Peanut butter and jelly mixed together just screams Hurricane ready. I mean, what else do you need? It has protein, fruit, and carbohydrates all combined into one.

Scott: Did you get water at the store?

Me: No

Scott: What about bread?

Me: No

Scott: Did you get anything we can survive on for the next few days?

Me: Of course! Peanut Butter and Jelly in a Jar!

Scott: (words I cannot publish)

Scott says we are not survivors, instead we are Die-Firsters. But I don’t care. We’ll see who is on top when he’s craving something a little nutty, yet a little sweet, and there is no peanut butter and jelly in a jar to be found anywhere in town.

I remember sitting at the kitchen table at friends’ homes, the windows up, the slight breeze blowing the sticky hair off my neck, talking, just talking. Because when there is no electricity and nothing to distract us, words flow more freely.

I admit, I have brief moments of panic when I think about where we would go if our home flooded, what we would do if we got separated, who would take care of my children. But then I remember, we’ve done this before.

When the waters recede and the media leaves town, when schools re-open and shelters close, when the sun shines again and the rains stop, we will still be here – Helping our neighbors.

We’ve done this before.

Share This: