Last night I was reminded of a behavior that my husband and I instilled in our children. When our children were much, much younger, we had taught them that when mom or dad were talking to another adult, and they needed our attention, to simply come hold our hand. If we did not respond with a squeeze, they should squeeze our hand until we squeezed back. That squeeze meant that we knew they needed us, and we would interrupt our conversation shortly to attend their needs. It was a great way for our family to communicate.
My husband and I were out to eat at a popular urban mom and pop restaurant. We agreed to meet our friends, and we would go early to get a table. Across the street is a Krispy Kreme, with the HOT NOW sign glaring. We decided to get a dozen to share in the morning with my in-laws. I find Krispy Kreme totally 21 carbs bolus worthy.
As we waited, small talk erupted with the people around us. It was a nice friendly chat with jokes and puns that made everyone smile. Our friends showed up and we made room in our corner in which we were waiting. After 30 minutes, the original waiting crowd that was huddled in our corner was down to another couple and us. We knew one of us would be next…when the couple’s husband made a comment that made me and those around me extremely uncomfortable.
“If we aren’t seated soon, I think we will go across the street to that Krispy Kreme and get some sweet diabetes.”
Huge hesitation on my part...I could feel our friends eyes shoot at me...and my husband grabbed my hand quickly and squeezed. I quickly looked at him...looking for the strength I needed.
Luckily, time was on their side. The hostess called their name and they wished us good night. I turned to my husband and asked him if my tongue was bleeding because I really bit it hard. Everyone laughed, and he kissed my check. Very quietly he said, “You did good dear…”
I know our friends noticed the water in my eyes that came out of my frustration. I was determine not speak about it, but focus on the fun ahead. But the fact is it really bothered me. The conversation resumed and no mention of the comment was made thankfully.
As we were leaving one of my friends hugged my neck and said she was sorry of what the gentlemen said to me, and she had always admire the way I handled a very misunderstood disease. She then took my hand and squeezed it tightly and smiled. “Besides,” she said quietly so that I could only hear, “I already have the sweetest diabetes ever...you!”