As one who has hit his life’s reset button so frequently the type is worn off, there’s something very familiar about all of this. I recognize how lucky I am to have a cooperative partner in Addie and faithful fellow travelers in what my friend Jessica calls ‘the village.’
Making Addie’s lunch for the first time this morning I found myself absentmindedly falling into the old routines. The slice I had already mindlessly jellied (with low-sugar strawberry of course) became my breakfast, and I toasted another slice before carefully measuring out her pb and her j. What was old is new again. A ground-shift in perspective and my mindfulness horizon is reset as well.
It is as if we have added one to our number. Like an infant it demands attention. Likewise, there is no alternative to success in its care. I told Addie this morning in the hallway outside her classroom “Do you realize this is my first morning as a diabetic dad?” She perked up, cocked her head, squinted, and said “Really?” “Yep. Really.” I don’t know if it all just seemed so ‘normal’ to her or if she’s already becoming an old hand at self-management, but after a morning of old favorites (sleeping in, the venerable Dad Sandwich, listening to NPR, Lego-tinkering) I think perhaps we shared a moment of perspective on her condition: that our lives have not been disrupted, only that we have been asked to live them more mindfully and with greater appreciation.