The preteen rite of passage

Walker attended her first slumber-ish party this weekend. I say “ish”, because she never actually full on slumbered. She can’t, right now, because of her life threatening medical condition that requires constant adult supervision. And she wasn’t too happy about that.

Her friend (or shall I say her mom) is the sweetest though, because she set up the party to be as inclusive as possible. There were a couple other kids who weren’t planning to spend the night either for various reasons. So the invite stated to come dressed in your favorite pajamas and with stuffed animals in hand. I’m not sure if this little one’s mom truly realized how wonderful this request was, but the fact that she got to hang around like she really was at a slumber party meant the world to Walker. They danced, ate pizza, did facial masks, and watched a movie, all the things slumber party dreams are made of.

And to make my little girl cringe a bit more, I had to stick around for the entirety of the party. Food, dancing and playing, and adrenaline: all of these things are a Molotov cocktail for blood sugar. She’s not quite at the point where she can monitor herself, nor does she know the intricacies of accounting for all these factors when bolusing. The mom is wonderful and I get along well with her, but I still felt a bit awkward RSVPing “1 plus medical chaperone”. For now, someone trained in her care needs to always be around. For the past 5 years this has never been an issue, but I’m starting to sense that it is becoming one.

I tried to stay quiet and out of the way. I brought knitting and a good book. I visited a bit with the mom, but I also didn’t want to impose on her Saturday night. I snuck downstairs to catch a quick peek of the girls playing “Just Dance”. I went back upstairs, and Walker and her friends later ran up to get something. I checked in with her, to see how she was feeling and monitor her blood sugar, and I asked her if she was doing ok. She quickly dismissed me with a “Yup!” I asked if she wanted me to stay upstairs and out of the way (the birthday girl’s mom and dad were hanging out downstairs) and she quickly said “Oh yes please!” with a huge smile, as if she had been holding those words in the whole time.

I walk a tightrope at most kid parties, extracurricular activities (like ballet and cello lessons), and field trips. On the one hand I want my kids to explore their ever growing independence and goof around and have fun with their friends, but on the other hand I need to be vigilant in watching over their medical needs. Sometimes this involves watching their behavior and knowing how much/how little their physical activity is impacting their diabetes. As if I wasn’t already a damn good wallflower for my own youth, I’m doing a great job as one for my kids’ youth too.

I think Type 1 parents need a title more appropriate than “Helicopter parent”. I would imagine most of us hate this term because it’s not really by choice that we’re ever present, but more out of necessity. I propose “stealth Black Hawk”, the nearly silent rescue mission helicopter, ready to swoop in and swoop back out undetected. But until my kids are ready to fly solo, you can be damn sure we’ll be there.