The sun bloody well better come out tomorrow

Kids have it easy. When they don't want to do something, they can lay down on the floor, kicking and screaming until they get it out of their system.

Or they can stomp around, grumbling under their breath.

Or even just sit in their bed and pout. All of these sound like a fantastic way to get rid of the pent up rage I've got brewing.

Remember my craptastic day I posted about a few days ago? Well, today would have put that one to shame. I will spare you the blow-by-blow, but my evening culminated in the fire department coming to break into my car outside the ice rink after Elise's skating lesson because I had locked my keys in the car. Actually, I'd left them in the ignition. At least it wasn't running.

My spare set were in my husband's pocket. Unfortunately, he was 25,000 feet in the air somewhere between Atlanta and Dallas. So I called Laura who gave me my city's non-emergency number and the calvary was on their way. Thanks Laura, for being the ray of sunshine beaming into my porta-potty day.

But the worst? D decided to not play nice this time around. So on top of dealing with crappy situation after crappy situation, I was chasing numbers all over the place. I just wanted to lock myself in the closet and scream the "F" word as loud and as long as I could.

Today I was done. As in, I don't want to do this anymore. Like an angry child, I wanted to kick diabetes in the shin, take all my toys and go home.

I am so tired of carb-counting, weighing food, the smell of insulin, numbers that don't make sense, interrupted sleep, finding test strips strewn about my house, all the crap I have to haul around, shots, finger pokes, ketones, stuffing food into a sleeping child's mouth. Everything. All of it. Done.

But there is no done with diabetes. We can't just walk away. In fact, just having the desire to do it makes me feel as guilty as hell. And one day this will be Elise's life. She too will feel done, and utterly trapped by the fact that she never can be.

Today, diabetes can suck it. I am giving it the proverbial middle finger... sit on it and rotate, D.