We are at my mom's place for a pre Christmas Christmas celebration. It's great, because everyone from my family of origin is here! My brother Chad and his fiancee Morgan, my sister Megan and her new husband Casey, Brent and myself and our crew, and my parents. Also my grandma, who goes by Gigi (short for Great Grandma). Last night was our big turkey dinner, and my dad's brother and sister were here with their spouses (my aunts and uncles) and one cousin, so we had a VERY full house and awesome food. The kids opened gifts and then the adults did a book gift exchange where you open a gift and anyone after you gets to either steal your gift or open a new one from under the tree. It was quite funny because this year for once nearly everyone got a book they like, that suits them! As you can appreciate, families are assembled largely by chance and hence do not always share the same tastes. :) This makes for hilarious book exchange parties. Last night, however, was a major success. The variety of books was impressive, also, because there was a backroad mapbook of BC, which was stolen numerous times despite the fact that a book like that feels like a waste of printing ink to me (I was born into hicksville, I shouldn't be surprised), an atlas, several novels, a cookbook, and a thick guidebook to training mules and donkeys.
Turkey dinner was awesome, so good, some new variatins of old dishes and an amazing 26 lb turkey with crispy brown skin and nice moist meat. YUMMY. Dessert was a bit torturous; how many christmas goodies do YOU usually eat at dinner? I couldn't have wine (obviously), juice, pop, or punch. Only water and tea. I couldn't have mashed potatoes. No bread. No candied yams or any other dish with brown sugar or maple syrup in it. And worst of all, no dessert. At all. There was a cute wedding cake for Meg and Casey with a surfing theme made of fondant. Mincemeat tarts. Butter tarts. Chocolate dipped shortbread. Jam cookies. Nanaimo bars (my favorite). Candy. There was talk of my mom's famous chocolate trifle, but thank goodness none appeared because that dish is just not resistable. NOT.
I was good. I didn't break a single GD diet rule, I made sure I was not too starving when treats were out, and at dessert I managed to scrounge up a caffeine free diet coke for myself, to satisfy my sweet tooth while everyone else ate chocolate and goodies. It worked. My bedtime blood sugar was 5.8 (goal below 7) and my fasting sugar this morning was 6.2. This number is good because the trend has been upwards and yesterday's was 6.8. I just wanted to see a trend of going back down, and am hoping to get back below 6.1 on a regular basis so I can consider refusing insulin treatment and having a hospital birth with my midwife and avoiding OB-land altogether. I'm becoming more accustomed to the idea of a hospital birth at this point: I am disappointed but the hospital midwife attended birth is the better of my two realistic options at this point so I'm shooting for that now.
At any rate, there's tons of snow to keep my kids busy, tons of adults around to help with the kids, good food, good books, good people, good times. =)
On the drive up we had help, too, because Megan and Casey carpooled with us and were in the middle row of our minivan, so they helped mitigate snacks and squabbles going on in the back row of little Vose boys. Megan even helped mop up Riley's copious amounts of puke that he barfed all over himself and his carseat about 5 km before my parents' house. I mean, it could've been worse if he puked earlier and we had to smell it for the rest of the trip, but you'd think it could've been better and he could hold on for another 5 k! Casey was green and some of the rest of us started gagging. It took me an hour with an old toothbrush and a rag and hot soapy water to get the carseat reasonably clean while the upholstry was in the wash, but it still smelled like puke so Brent folded it and there was deep crack infiltration so he gave the whole thing a hot shower. That did the trick. Ah, parenthood.
Megan and Casey took the skytrain to the end of the line so we could pick them up without driving too far, and Meg said Casey was stressed out because they were running 15 minutes behind schedule. I laughed pretty hard at that: we're always late. I think Brent got to the skytrain at the same time as they did, but we left town an hour and a half behind schedule. I don't move very quickly these days and being sick slowed me down even further, but it's pretty normal for us to aim to leave at a certain time and leave an hour later! Then the trip itself. I used to do that trip solo a lot, to visit my parents while I was in university, and I could do it in four hours if I didn't stop at all and I drove 10 km above the speed limit the whole way. Normally the trip takes about 5 hours. We usually now do it in 7. Nobody ever has to pee or poop at the same time as everyone else, everybody needs to stretch their legs, and there's generally errands we need to do like getting gas (it's cheaper several towns east of us so we usually get on the road before filling up) or buying books for a Christmas book exchange, so the trip is pretty long these days.
But I've learned that if I make it about the trip and not the destination, and I calculate about 7 hours from door to door, we can get through it with minimal stress. It's all about low expectations. =)
There were some *words* tossed at my husband who purchased a 40 pack of timbits in Merrit to share with everyone and I'm not allowed to have timbits. Who wants to resist a 40 pack of sugary chocolate donut holes for three hours? It was kind of poetic justice when Riley puked three pounds of timbits 5 km from the end of the trip.
My brother, who as of yet has no kids, and who grew up with only sisters and is definitely a BOY with a capital B, bought my kids Nerf machine guns with styrofoam darts that shoot out rapidly and have hard tips that actually hurt when they hit bare skin at close range. He laughed his ass off when I yelled "CHAD!!!" when I saw what was under the wrapping paper. NICE. We don't buy our kids guns. But I don't want to be the bad guy who returns an amazingly exciting Christmas gift (my mom did that once to me, my aunt bought me a Barbie doll and I wasn't allowed to have Barbies, so she returned it to the store. I'm glad she didn't let me play with Barbies but I distinctly remember my acute disappointment at her brief stay in my hands. I even remember what she was wearing: a red and white princess dress with red hearts on a white train and a tiara). I threatened to store them at Chad's house but that's an empty threat and he knows it.
Just wait til he has kids. I'll get him.
It took about sixteen seconds for Matthew to figure out how to operate his WEAPON, although since then it's a miracle he hasn't broken it with his various banging and poking and thumping to troubleshoot it when it gets jammed. We should have named him Rambo.
He's also generally pretty loud. He shreiks and screams and yells directives at the top of his lungs, unless you NEED him to talk loudly, and then suddenly a cockroach couldn't hear him in the desert with no background noise for 100 miles. Like when he's talking to Gigi, who has some pretty old ears and needs some volume coupled with lip reading for her to hear, suddenly he doesn't move his lips and he's so quiet I can barely hear him, let alone Gigi. Fortunately she's persistent.
Anyways, he had opened and assembled his machine gun and was shooting people at random in the livingroom, and he aimed at me and hit the inside of my thigh.
"OHHHHHHHHHH!! I GOT MOMMY RIGHT IN THE WEINER!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
I about died laughing. There was about twenty people in the room and they all got to see me get shot in the 'weiner.' It was fortunate I didn't pee my pants, as I was sitting on my mom's good couch.
I go see the nutritionist again on Tuesday. I'll see an endocrinologist sometime after that, to get a specialists' opinion on whether I need insulin or not, and decide from there. But 6.2 is an excellent place to start.
And Christmas goodies aside, the holidays are awesome.