insomnia #11, Nick’s birthday

Hit the gym in the afternoon.

Pulled off both a happy birthday for Nick and a successful Surfrider event.

Stayed organized with work details.

Chatted with a dear friend.

The house is clean.

Nick’s blood sugar was in the good range when I checked at 1 a.m.

Took a couple melatonin-valerian capsules.

Why can’t I sleep?

Momentum and me, me, me

Somewhere between October 13 and the end of the month, I lost it. Not so much that an observer would notice or I failed to get my work done or anyone’s needs other than my own went unmet, but somehow I went from planning a burst of self-improvement during my last month before hitting 40 to not surfing, barely writing, accumulating overdraft fees and gaining four pounds.

Really, Jennifer? At this point in the game, you still haven’t learned enough to stop before you make the mistakes instead of after? I’m so annoyed with myself. Just because I’m working eight-to-nine hour days at a job that challenges my mental and diplomatic skills, and chasing Nick’s blood sugar from one extreme to the other, while struggling to escape from debt, and trying to be a good mother by cooking crêpes in the morning and vegetable-laden dinners every night, and keeping a full social schedule, plus planning our big Surfrider anniversary party and movie nights at Arcata Theatre Lounge… well, no excuse exists. This is the kind of life I have always led in one form or another and if I can’t do it all and do it well, then why night chuck all my goals and spend the evenings eating defrosted burritos on the couch?

Mutually exclusive

This combination did not work out so well.

Sometimes I can’t sleep. The inability to quiet my mind persists, more so with the lengthening nights. Sleepytime Tea, Kava Tea, Tension Tamer – none take the edge off quite enough. Pot historically dries my throat and eyes out so much I wake up for water and eyedrops anyway. So, on the recommendation of a few friends, I bought a melatoni-herbal concoctioon and quite looked forward to trying it last night.

Except Nick’s blood sugar, at the midnight check, after a day of near-perfect numbers, was 358. Which meant another check was needed at 2 a.m., possibly a set change if the number was still too high. I reset the alarm from 5 a.m. – clearly I would not hit the gym at 5:30 a.m. as I’d hoped – to 2 a.m.

358. Nick woke up mumbling about being low on insulin, the propensity for air bubbles to sometimes form under the circumstances. “Just get me a new reservoir and the insulin bottle,” he said, shaking off his sleepiness for a few moments. I did. He sat up, disconnected one thing, filled another, went through steps I don’t even fully know myself as he’s been so competent, I haven’t had to learn. “I can’t handle the needle stuff right now, Mom,” he said. “This should work. Please.” Okay, I said. But if his blood sugar hadn’t dropped at 4 a.m., we’d have to switch out the set tubing.

At 4 a.m., his blood sugar had dropped – to 261. Not perfect, but a solid indicator of improvement.

At 6 a.m., the meter gave the good news of 104. Fantastic.

At 7 a.m., I made peanut butter toast and sliced some Fieldbrook Jonagolds for K, told Nick he could sleep in, go to school after he had a chance to rest.

At 8 a.m., the sweet taste of Earl Grey with milk and sugar lingering, I took Kaylee to school, put gas in the car. When I arrived home, Nick was already in the shower, not wanting to miss 2nd period. I made him seitan and toast, made myself some, too. We changed his set, me forcing the needle into his back, just above his hip, him holding on to the table, swearing it didn’t hurt.

At 9 a.m., I left another mug of Earl Grey steeping and took him to school.

I’ve been working for the past three hours, wondering if I chance a nap, hoping tonight results in good numbers for him and some sleep for me.

surf sessions #60, 61: Noll Longboard Classic

My sporadic recording has allowed some sessions to slip by undocumented, I think. Alas. Every single day holds moments I want to remember. I imagine, as I’m on the beach or driving home from an event how grateful I would be if I could capture in writing all the actions, feelings and thoughts life offers up. Or not all rather, just the particularly inspiring ones, with which my life seems to be overflowing. And not out of some sense of self-importance, but out of gratitude for having so many experiences I want to save or make sense of.

#60: The Noll Longboard Classic. K and her friends have surfed in this for six years, most of which have presented surf conditions perfect for staying home. We typically camp at the Orman Ranch right near South Beach. Last year, however, faced with a weather forecast predicting rain, cold, rain, cold, more rain, cold, I convinced Bobby that camping in the rain would not be an adventure, but an exercise in misery. We ended up staying at Anchor Beach Inn – a good call as the weekend did prove frigid and wet. Contestants and crowd members huddled around smoldering attempts at bonfires. My hair reeked of campfire. Adding insult to injury, the swell came in from the west at about 10 feet. Trust me, that’s not what you want at South Beach, especially when your sweet kid is paddling out into the current-riddled ocean, pummeled by walls of foam.

surf session #62, #63

I sure feel like I’m missing some sessions, but better to have surfed and not had time to write about it than record mourning about not surfing… although along that note, I did not get out the past couple days, which I hear was a mistake. Poor me.

Anyway, #62: The slow, slopy waves called for the longboard, which my South Beach session had inspired a fondness for – although watching CM ride waves with unerring grace reminded me that just because I’m catching more waves doesn’t mean I’m actually looking any better on them! He’s an amazingly good longboarder. I wrote a story for the Eye about him and three of his friends – together, team Wabi Sabi – when they were just teens winning surf contests up and down the Pacific Northwest. My favorite part was hearing his dad explain that they were down in Santa Cruz when C was 15 and saw an advertisement for surf classes. Dad wanted to do it, but C was reluctant to be seen as a dork – teenagers! – so Mike had to practically force him. And then the kid took to it like breathing, finished high school early and started traveling the world. Now the Wabi Sabi kids are all grown up. Or as grown up as surfers ever get.

#63: Speaking of Wabi Sabi, there’s PM walking on water…. Oh, this was a fun day! Slightly overhead on the sets, a little mushy but in the way that makes me feel okay about taking off late, not that makes the waves hard to catch. Long lefts, fast rights – and the air had to be close to 70 degrees! Sunshine! I’m grinning just remembering it.

Seven-O-Heaven

This comic makes me smile.

Tsunami Tsurfers

In the Journal weekly. (Where I am an official columnist, yay!)

Fragility

He’s not fragile, really. Thin, for sure, but tough in the way young men are, scars and scrapes earned from surfing, rowing, physical play. He surfed two sessions at South Beach, the second under a full moon. The night capped a long overdue sunshiney day at the Noll Longboard Classic. He’d mentioned his set, the tiny tube adhesived to his back and connected to his insulin pump, felt loose. I plastered waterproof bandaids around it to hold it in place. The next morning though, his blood sugar has escalated to over 400. Then over 500. (Over 300 is considered Serious.) The insulin doses weren’t bringing his glucose level down. We decided to replace the set – the tube had maybe slipped out, the bandages failing to hold it in place. So there we stood as the waves peeled and heats progressed, me maneuvering the needle into the soft flesh above and behind his hip, him holding steady against the truck. We couldn’t surf until his blood sugar dropped – by the time the number landed in a suitable place, the time had come to leave. The not surfing disappointed him. The speed at which the equipment failure turned dangerous sent my heart spinning. Everything feels so normal most of the time. But we can’t forget that it’s not.

“We did it, and we turned out fine!”

I meet with Arcata High’s nurse this morning to talk about Nick’s diabetes and drop off extra supplies. The pump has made him so much more self-sufficient; I confess, I do not think of his carb-to-insulin or correction ratios nearly as much as I did when I was responsible for them. His blood sugar level remains a constant concern, but the rest, I leave up to Nick and the pump now. This works out especially well as he’s become a teenager, giving me other aspects of his life to worry about.

surf sessions #56, #57, #58

One more time, Arcata Photo Studios

Courtesy Arcata Photo Studios

Thanks, Arcata Photo Studios!

#56: Moonstone. Spent three-and-a-half hours flying the coast. Perfect white triangles rippled from ocean to beach. Crystal clear sky, no wind. By the time we landed, I was foaming. I rang the kids. “Load up the truck! I’ll be there soon! Everyone surfs!”

Preventing sexual assault: Best advice EVER

From Fem!n*Ally via Salon.com:

Sexual Assault Prevention Tips Guaranteed to Work!

1. Don’t put drugs in people’s drinks in order to control their behavior.

2. When you see someone walking by themselves, leave them alone!

3. If you pull over to help someone with car problems, remember not to assault them!

4. NEVER open an unlocked door or window uninvited.

5. If you are in an elevator and someone else gets in, DON’T ASSAULT THEM!

6. Remember, people go to laundry to do their laundry, do not attempt to molest someone who is alone in a laundry room.

7. USE THE BUDDY SYSTEM! If you are not able to stop yourself from assaulting people, ask a friend to stay with you while you are in public.

8. Always be honest with people! Don’t pretend to be a caring friend in order to gain the trust of someone you want to assault. Consider telling them you plan to assault them. If you don’t communicate your intentions, the other person may take that as a sign that you do not plan to rape them.

9. Don’t forget: you can’t have sex with someone unless they are awake!

10. Carry a whistle! If you are worried you might assault someone “on accident” you can hand it to the person you are with, so they can blow it if you do.

And, ALWAYS REMEMBER: if you didn’t ask permission and then respect the answer the first time, you are committing a crime – no matter how “into it” others appear to be.