Skittles and sand don't mix

Blood sugar doesn’t play by the rules. And it certainly doesn’t care if it interferes with an 8 year old’s plans.

Our house in Maine is idyllic, right next to a lake and nestled in the woods. If we want to spend time at the ocean, however, we have to drive an hour and half south. Not far enough away to be a pain, but far enough that we need to plan a day of it. So we planned. We noted the peak of low-tide, packed up our sun tent, sand toys, buckets for sea shell and hermit crab collecting, magnifying glasses for exploring tidal pools, sunblock, and snacks.

We got to the state park just when they opened to avoid the crowd (I really hate crowds). The kids were so excited, and as soon as we picked our spot they were chomping at the bit to go explore. Then the dreaded alarm that someone was dropping fast. This time it was Walker. Her face dropped, as she knew what it meant: she needed to sit down, eat some carbs, and wait for her blood sugar to come back up.

This particular low took a while to rebound. So we sat, talked, people watched, and ate sugar. Ollie and Marshall headed off for the water, and Walker and I sat a bit longer. After a half hour or so we were able to join the others. Ollie was able to show Walker where the best seaweed collections were accumulating, and we headed off in search of sea urchins and crabs.

It’s not a huge deal, but it’s times like these when my heart breaks for the kids. It’s not a scary low, or a time when ketones are high, or even the pain of a site change. It’s just a couple minutes of having to stop being a carefree kid and focus on getting blood sugar back up. In the grand scheme, not really a big deal. But it’s these times when they’re reminded that not even for a second are they free of their Type 1.