The Week I Thought Josie Had Diabetes

Something was wrong with her. I just KNEW it. Josie'd just had her 2nd birthday and she swung back into life after her Minnie Mouse birthday party extravaganza with as much vim an vigor as she ever had. She received brand new Princess bed sheets and fancy little satin nightgowns with swishy skirts and an awesome easel to paint on and piles and piles and PILES of amazing new toys that we're still learning to share. The decorations came down, the balloons deflated, and the lagniappe cake was *finally* consumed. (In large part by me, while the kids napped every afternoon. Because waste not, want not, y'all.) We finally began to settle back into our nice, comfortable, daily routine after the birthday party madness subsided. There was only one problem: the potty. 

The party messes got cleaned up, but the potty messes were just beginning. Gone were the days of clean pants and rugs and car seats and blankets. After almost three months of successful training, Josie started having accident after accident after ACCIDENT. I would look up from feeding the baby, or reading a story, or rescuing the dog from participating in a dramatic reenaction of 'David and Goliath', or turning a load of laundry over, and BAM! there she'd be: Standing, staring at me in that unmistakable post-potty-accident-position. "Swaaa-wee, Momma." she'd say, as I'd hitch her up onto my hip while trying not to transfer any of her mess onto myself as we'd lumber back into the bathroom for ANOTHER outfit change/half bath/hand washing session. 

But not only was Josie having all these accidents, she was BEGGING for juice. She was straight up Oliver Twist-ing me in the kitchen with her empty cup 24/7. She was drinking All. Day. Long. Cup after cup after cup, she'd guzzle it down and then immediately ask for another. I'd oblige her, she'd drink it like she'd been wandering the Sahara for weeks, and then she'd approach me again 3 minutes later, begging for more. I was beginning to think she was becoming a camel. 

I was starting to panic. This just wasn't like her. I started to think of medical conditions that would combine the symptoms of recurring potty accidents and unquenchable thirst and I came up with: DIABETES. That was it; the obvious answer to my current problem. Josie was diabetic. For sure. I just knew it. 

I swallowed my fear and reached out to my cousin who's daughter is a Type I diabetic, desperate for some guidance. And she was awesome. She told me that I wasn't the first person to reach out to her with a list of ambiguous symptoms and concerns and she knew precisely what I needed to do. She gave me some excellent advice and left me with a master plan to be able to deduce if Josie really was suffering from blood sugar problems. (FYI: Apparently they have test strips you can buy OTC at pharmacies nowadays to test for glucose/ketones at home. So, there's some free information for y'all.) 

So I now have this newly acquired access to an easy answer- I should be relieved, right? WRONG. I am paralyzed. Frozen in fear. I can not physically force myself to get into the van and drive to the store. There's a Walgreens literally two blocks from my driveway but I Just. Couldn't. Do. It. I was petrified. Somehow, knowing that there was the availability of an easy answer made me less inclined to want to actually answer it. 

And I wasn't in denial. I understood that there was a problem. If I had any doubts about that, there was an overflowing wet bucket of Princess panties sitting on top of my washing machine to prove it's existence. I knew that something, somewhere, somehow had changed- but I was terrified to find out what it could be. So, before I diagnosed my daughter with a lifetime's supply of blood sugar battles, I decided to take a deep breath, take several HUGE steps back, and start over. 

The next morning, before Jo woke up, I went all "Teacher-turned-Mom" on her. I cranked out a blank sticker chart, complete with a DumDum taped to the bottom. I put a jar of jelly beans on the bathroom counter next to a sticker page, rolled up my sleeves, and I prepared to do battle. She woke up that morning, stumbled bleary-eyed into the bathroom and beheld the glorious sight that was before her: 

(This is success in sticker form.)

A chorus of angels sang to us that morning. She went to the bathroom right away, stuck a sticker on her chart and happily chewed on a pink jellybean as I washed her hands. And to my surprise...she never had an accident again. ::face palm:: Turns out, she never had a blood sugar problem. She had a motivation problem. She had a post-birthday-party problem. An I'm-too-busy-to-tell-Mom problem. An I-can-but-I-don't-want-to problem. 

And looking back, I've never been so happy to be wrong about something. I feel equal parts of relief, frustration, embarrassment, and anxiety. I'm relieved because there was a simple answer to what could have been a much, much bigger problem. There are thousands and thousands of parents who would love to be able to solve their children's problems with a simple sticker chart and a jar of jelly beans. How truly blessed this makes me. 

I'm frustrated because I didn't pick up on her lack of motivation sooner. I should have realized that she was coming down from the "It's-my-party-and-I'll-cry-if-I-want-to" high.  This potty accident nonsense went on for over a week, y'all. A WEEK! 

I'm embarrassed because I feel like I should have known Josie better. I actually thought that there was something seriously wrong with her. What ever happened to good ol' Mother's Intuition? Why did THAT not work? "Umm, Tara, about that glucose test- yeah, I'm actually NOT going to need to pick that up. Turns out, Josie was just playing me like a fiddle. There's not a thing wrong with her." How many other Moms out there have convinced themselves that their children were suffering from some infirmity when in fact they were perfectly healthy? (Because apparently- I did.)

I'm anxious because I think about what this could mean about her future. She's certainly a feisty one, and I worry about what could happen if I don't raise her correctly. If I don't do my job properly now, what will I face when she's 5? or 9? or 13? or 18? God has given me the gift of a strong-minded girl. And I'm thankful for her determined spirit. (But what Josie needs to realize, though, is that her stubborn streak comes to her honestly. Hard headedness is genetic and those roots run DEEP. If there's going to be a battle of wills between us- I'm going to win. Decidedly.) 

I'm glad she's tenacious because tenacity like her's means that by pointing her in the right direction, she will be unwavering in her faith. And with a drive like this, there won't be much that Josie can't accomplish for Jesus. What an inspiring thought! 

My prayer is that God will continue to give me the strength and wisdom to lead my kids to Christ. To successfully shape their souls and mold their wills for Him. To aim them to Jesus because that's how I'm pointing, too. I want to learn lessons from situations like this one with Josie, and use those lessons to strengthen my resolve to be a Godly parent. Because parenting is a job that has eternal consequences. And there is no higher responsibility than that.