Zoe wants an insulin pump and every time her doctor mentions “pumping”, I think of a breast pump.

In turn, that makes me think of the time she did this and I laugh. And then I remember how much I hated pumping and how glad I was to sell that damn thing on Craigs.

We decided on the the Mini Med pump and she should be hooked up and ready to go in July. Everyone keeps telling us we will love it and I really hope we do. I don’t mind giving her shots, but her arms can get so bruised up from the injections and it’s totally not cool to have your mom say “Give me a butt cheek” when you are in the middle of Red Robin trying to order your bacon burger. Here’s hoping she likes it and doesn’t try to list it on eBay.

She is pretty stoked that it comes in different colors and really that’s what sold her on it, never mind that it is an advanced, high tech insulin delivery device when it comes in PURPLE. She also liked that the practice infusion set was inserted onto a fake whoopee cushion.

During the appointment, they also trotted out Lenny The Insulin Dependent Lion where you can practice set changes or sight changes, I’m not sure of my pump lingo yet.

Zoe was all, “Do I have to wear three or just one?”

I know this is supposed to be kid-friendly but it makes me sad. I feel the same way about Rufus. Stuffed animals and children shouldn’t deal with diabetes, actually no one should. SUCK ASS DIABETES.

Zoe isn’t phased by it too much, as check up/pump decision appointments are a wonderful opportunity to sit on your brother while waiting to turn in your urine sample.

I think summer is here. Maybe. Troy keeps wearing his snow boots outside with shorts because he’s confused by snow in May and likes to be prepared, so Zoe and I convinced him to try on a pair of flip flops yesterday. This is huge because he is very particular about his apparel and he actually liked them. I figured if he ended up hating them at home I was only out 98 cents, so I tossed them in the cart.

Turns out he’s a big fan.

It also turns out he really likes socks.

In December, my sister was here and put the smack down on my mother’s treasures in our garage. They went through everything and my sister made my mother take things to storage and our garage was looking better. By looking better, I mean there weren’t boxes stacked almost to the ceiling.

On Sunday the weather was nice and since the garage wasn’t cleaning itself, we were going to have to actually make an effort.

Which meant pulling everything out onto the driveway like the Clampetts. I don’t have a photo of that because Jeff took my phone so I would focus and not play Candy Crush.

I made a donate pile, a free pile, and a sell on Craigs pile. Here’s the kitchen table that we purchased with our kitchen chairs, bring me $25 and it is all yours.

My mother saves everything. Sometimes this is great:

Great:

Freaking awesome:

It’s a pencil holder, clearly:

Sometimes her hoarding makes you go WUT:

And sometimes her hoarding is scary as hell:

I also ran across some of my belongings, good to have a backup career plan:

Found my Pogs collection, probably can retire now:

After almost six hours of straight up hard work, we can park one car in our garage.

I still would like to knock that stack of shit on the left down, but I need to recover first. Moving junk around is no joke.