I suck at being needy. I really do. I much prefer to be competent, confident, and independent, without having to be vulnerable or ever ask for help.

My dietitian once asked me “if you were given a gift, and inside it was your diabetes, what would you say your diabetes has given you?”

My diabetes has definitely taught me how to ask for help, and how to accept help when it is offered.

I’m usually much more comfortable being strong, independent and resentful than I am comfortable with receiving love and nurturing.

So I try to remind myself how good it makes me feel to help others. How could I deny someone that feeling when they want to help me?

I’m sure you’re getting tired of listening to me rant about my blood sugar woes, but believe me I am getting tired of having blood sugar woes. My latest round of “new meds” has not been working for me - except to plunge me low and then send me soaring into the double digits for no apparent reason. My soon-to-be-on-maternity leave GP is understandably pre-occupied and we’ve been fumbling around in the dark trying to “fix” my sugars for months now.

My most recent solution to my sugar problems has been to go off of the offensive new meds until I can see another doctor. I am supposed to see my specialist soon, and this is even more crucial since my GP has no replacement and may not ever return to her practice.

So, to take matters into my own hands and try to get my sugars closer to a state of normalcy, I am returning to my low carb diet. Ugh.

It’s not the food I mind so much, it’s more the prep. Our world is not set up for low carb convenience. Other than protein bars (which are $2 each and according to my daughter, taste like play-doh), low carb snacks are pretty much non-existent. When I think about everything I put in my kids’ lunches, very little qualifies as something I could eat myself.

So it’s back to the kitchen I go to make myself a stockpile of flax and whey protein muffins, hard-boiled eggs, veggie platters and dip, chicken wings, soups, roasted nuts and delectable soy-bean concoctions.

Just to forewarn you, I may be grumpy for the next few days.

Okay BJ, you know this one’s for you.

While trying to think of ways to “roast” you on your big day, I came to the conclusion that it is a virtually impossible feat. You sail through life with such grace and charm. You make it all look so effortless.

How can you “roast” someone who is generous, gorgeous, passionate about life and food(!), an incredible mom and wife, and a cherished friend?

So I give up. No “Dogbert”-ian speechifying today. Happy Birthday to you BJ - the undisputed winner of “the best 80’s hair!”

I don’t know about you, but I sometimes get overwhelmed by the little things. It’s like there’s a magic number of minutiae I can deal with and any more than that sends me into overload.

Right now my to-do list includes: figuring out what happened to the e-tickets I was supposed to receive for an upcoming Diabetes Expo; following up with my doctor (who is going on maternity leave and has no replacement!) regarding a specialist appointment she is supposed to make me; signing up for a Diabetes Group followup at my local hospital; registering my kids for their summer activities - camp, art, swimming and sewing (for my fashion-designer-wannabe daughter); sending an excuse note to school for my daughter who was sick before spring break; etc., etc.

I know it’s just the reality of everyday living, but really, it gets to be too much sometimes.

So, how will I deal with it all? I think my usual mistake is that I look at my to-do list as something that needs to be accomplished all at once. I am very completion-oriented and like to go “check - there that’s done.”

I have come to realize that life is not like that. So instead, I try to slowly whittle away at my chores and take pleasure in each one I check off my list. I squeeze them in here and there in places where I think I don’t have enough time. Often, 5 to 10 minutes is all I need and the feeling of satisfaction is so worth it when I’m done.

Why is it that when anyone says “no offense but …” you know you have to brace yourself?

Not only is life a bitch, it has puppies.

- Adrienne Gusoff

When you finally get it right, tai chi is supposed to be a kind of moving meditation. You get into the zone and your body takes over and leads you through the form.

I’m not there yet. Even though I’ve taken the “beginner” class several times (I think I’m on number 4), most of the time I’m using every brain cell to concentrate on what I’m doing.

As soon as my mind wanders, my body does too. I lose the movement, my balance, or my focus and I forget what I’m doing. But for me, this turns out to be the beauty of tai chi. I am required to focus and concentrate solely on the movement. No thinking about the kids, supper, money, or any other of life’s details.

I must be in the moment. Tai chi. It’s good for me.

Mommy, how do we rewind the DVD?

A day of transition, or, as its more affectionately known, the “descent into hell.” Yes, it’s the first day of spring break and the umpteenth day of rebellious tantrum-ing by my youngest (do I have to admit she’s mine?).

At least when school’s in session, I get that glorious morning to mid-afternoon stretch of time to remind me of my human-ness, beyond the confines of my family. The children go off to school and I gleefully skip off the schoolyard, looking ahead to the potential of the day. No whining, yelling, arguing, needling, teasing, poking, or “stop copying me!” for hours at a stretch.

I can think, and better yet I can hear myself think.

Lots of new parents lament that we (those of us who already have kids) never told them what hard work it is to have a family. But the truth is, it’s indescribable. How can you explain the unexplainable? How can you convey something so deeply ingrained into every fiber of your being? How can you express something that envelopes you totally - body, mind and soul - so completely?

So I guess I just have to “suck it up” - there’s lots more Mondays where this one came from.

It sneaks up on me sometimes. Like today. I wasn’t expecting it at all. We were on our way to watch a friend perform. We headed towards the escalator and she suddenly stopped short. I can’t do down there. Can’t we go down the elevator?

What are you talking about? Of course you can go down there.

I can’t go down the escalator. I’m scared. Let’s go down the elevator instead.

Oh no, let’s try the escalator. Come on. I’ll hold your hand. You hold the railing with one hand and hold my hand with the other. We approach the escalator. She stops.

I can’t do it.

Yes you can. Come on, I’ll help you. Let’s try again. We approach the escalator again.

No I can’t. I’m too scared. I’m going down the elevator.

The fear wins once more.