My favorite Snoop Doggy Dog

The project of late around my house has been painting Emma's bedroom (the boss lady has requested purple walls as a background and for me to paint goofy monkeys all around). Before she was born, I had it all decorated with baby Snoopy pictures and designs. I love Snoopy...always have and probably always will. For some reason that goofy little dog cracks me up when he is pretending to be the Red Baron while sitting on top of his dog house. When I was around 2 years old, my Dad bought my Mom a stuffed animal Snoopy, and apparently I decided to claim it for my own. I remember carrying that thing around with me all the time. I slept with him every single night. I brought him to sleepovers at friends houses. He was always there for me to cuddle with when I wasn't feeling well or when I woke up in the middle of the night from having a nightmare. He came to Florida with me on a family vacation. I even recall the parents of a friend of mine driving quite a distance to go to my house and pick up Snoopy when I forgot to bring him along to an overnight camping trip with school. I was panicked and afraid that I wouldn't be able to sleep without him. I vividly remember standing at the edge of a gravel driveway at this camp and seeing my friend Jane Ann's parents drive up to me with Snoopy sitting in the back seat...seat belt on and everything. I still have Snoopy actually. He currently resides on the shelf below my night stand. He is battered and not quite as fluffy and white as he once was. His nose is barely hanging on by a thread. The stitching on the back of his head is coming loose. His poor tail just sort of dangles there nowadays. Snoopy has really been through the ringer. He's been with me for 32 years now.
Sometimes I sit here and think about those past versions of myself. I sit her and wonder if I knew back then how my life would turn out, would I do anything different? Would I still make the same choices? Would I still make the same mistakes? Probably. Since diabetes came into our lives, I find that I am slowly but surely gaining confidence. For the longest time I would second guess my choices and decisions in dealing with Emma's diabetes. I would always feel this overwhelming fear that I was going to be making a mistake, so I would hop on the phone and seek out some confirmation from the nurse or dietician. I sort of felt like I was frozen with the fear of failing and somehow hurting Emma. As we are approaching our 3 year Anniversary of Emma's diagnosis, I honestly feel like I can say that I finally have a tiny shred of confidence in myself and the day to day decisions I make. I don't immediately go into panic mode when something stressful happens. I actually attempt to think it through and figure it out and make a decision and stick with it.
So, when I finally lay my head down on my pillow at night (assuming I actually make it to my bed instead of my "D-Mom induced pseudo-narcolepsy" striking again causing me to fall asleep on the couch and wake up at 4:00am to the TV blaring some Spanish soap opera that my husband turned on before he went to bed as a joke, or to the ear pounding waves crashing on the late late late night movie "Titanic" causing me to suddenly feel the urge to use the restroom...lolol), and I glance over at my scruffy looking old Snoopy doll...I can't help but smile and think of how far I have come and how much I have changed.