A Love/Hate Relationship with Resposibility

Seven is a magical age. Thirty years ago, I remember the thought of turning eight literally brought me to tears (now it's the thought of turning 40). I cried and cried because 7 was so much fun and there was no possible way that eight could be any better.


Because of that memory, it's been fun to watch Chase at seven. It's an age full of Legos, games, play dates, monkey bars, swimming, sledding & playing with our puppy. I think my childhood was much the same if you throw in some Barbies here and there and add a couple heaping cups of carefree irresponsibility.


I recently watched my carefree seven year old take five snacks from the pantry for his daily school snack break. He went to the drawer, grabbed the Sharpie and proceeded to write the carb count on each snack. I thought proudly to myself, "Wow, he's seven and he's so responsible!" Then, a couple seconds later, I thought sadly to myself, "He's seven and he has to be so responsible."


Last night I asked Chase to come up for supper (he's moved all of his Legos into our basement in case there is a tornado...he has his priorities). I watched him go straight to his glucometer and test his blood. I thought proudly to myself, "He did it on his own. I didn't have to ask him to do it." And again, I felt that jab of pain. Seven is not suppose to be ruled by carbs, blood sugar numbers and insulin. It is suppose to be carefree.


Everyday I remind myself that, to Chase, this is all normal. He hasn't known life any other way. I need to be happy that he wants to responsible for managing his diabetes, because one day I will have to hand over the reigns. For me, that day will be harder than turing 8, or even 40, but I will need to be responsible and let him take over.