I took the boys to my mom’s house yesterday afternoon so they could swim in the pool and I could sit at the edge of the water and chat with my mom. I invited friends to join us because it was a beautiful September afternoon, but still warm here in the lowcountry, and I knew they would enjoy getting out of the heat and into the water. And when we got there, it was one of those days when I don’t ever want to live anywhere else. A breeze blew across the river, keeping the bugs away, and my boys jumped and swam and splashed with sheer happiness. Even Reid, thick in the midst of the terrible twos, was having a good time.

When my husband finished work he joined us by the pool and had the brilliant idea of going out to dinner (I hadn’t been to the grocery store all weekend) on our way home. Even better, my mom and step-dad offered to take the kids to the marina restaurant in the boat. Dale and I got there ahead of the boaters, and sat at a picnic table with a view of the intracoastal and a glass of wine as the sun lit up the sky. It really was picture perfect.

By the time everyone arrived, they were windblown and hungry. We quickly placed our orders and leaned back in our chairs to admire the view, and as I reached for my ‘shot bag’ to test my blood sugar before dinner, I realized I didn’t have any insulin. It was one of those stomach punches of living with diabetes. Shit. There was no one to blame but myself. I hadn’t brought insulin to the pool because I figured we’d go home for dinner. And here we were with this perfect view on this perfect night, and I couldn’t eat. I asked for a to-go box and ordered another glass of wine. Thankfully I wasn’t very hungry, and the food didn’t look mouthwatering, otherwise it would have been worse.

It felt ridiculous though to sit there at the table with friends and family as the sun dipped out of sight on one side, and the full moon rose on the other, and not be able to eat. I was determined not to let it bother me, but today, as I sit here at the computer, I’m frustrated and weary. I’m inspired by people who say what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, and I want to have that kind of attitude, but sometimes I am just so tired of having to think like  a Type A all the time. But I don’t have a choice. So I’ll do my best to roll with the punches, have a glass of wine, enjoy the view and wait to get home to eat.