I had another one of THOSE moments today.
You know the ones...where you are so caught off guard by something that you see, that everything else around you seems miniscule...unimportant...part of the blurred out fuzzed out peripheral vision line of the world. Where it slips your mind for a second that your kid is diabetic and you forget that you are exhausted because of it...the words BG, carbs, and insulin all have been wiped from your mind as easily as a teacher wiping off yesterdays lesson on the chalkboard. That constant pressure weighing on your every thought is lifted for that moment in time. The always present enormous weight of the responsibility of being someone else's pancreas is suddenly taken off of your shoulders. It's gone.
I took Emma to see the Smurfs movie this afternoon. She was beyond excited. She's been counting down the days for the past 2 weeks actually. On the car ride to the theatre, she was chanting in the back seat and making up cheerleader shouts to show me just how excited she was and how quickly she wanted me to get there. She asked if we could stop at the store to get face paint actually so she could paint her face blue and write "I love Smurfs" on her cheek. No such luck in the face paint department...if only it was Halloween time!
Anyway, we sat there munching away on our popcorn waiting for the lights to finally dim and THE movie to start. Emma had brought along 4 smurf toys to hold on her lap because she "wanted them to be able to see themselves up on the big screen!"
Then that moment I am writing about occured.....the lights dimmed and I looked over at Emma. She had her Smurf buddies arranged just so on her lap...making sure everyone of them could see. She had the biggest and most beautiful smile on that I have ever seen in my life. It lit up her entire face...her eyes were shining bright with excitement...it was amazing to me. It was perfect.
In that particular moment in time...nothing else mattered...I didn't look at her and wonder what her BG was. I didn't look at her and wonder if I had guessed right on the number of carbs of popcorn she was eating. I didn't SEE diabetes. The theatre was full...but it might as well have been just Emma and I in that moment. Everyone and everything around us was on pause...blurry...non-existent. It was just her and I. She was the definition of happiness and excitement...and me?...well I was overwhelmed...love for my daughter, happiness, lightness at having diabetes not be a part of this moment, and joy.
I don't think I ever really understood how important it was to me to see another person so happy. I get it now.