Okay, I knew I was going to regret it. I never should have praised Daughter’s coping skills.
There were two phone calls from her today. She was crying in the first one—one of her friends was teasing her. She asked him to stop, but he didn’t. I reminded her that if she had used her voice and he wouldn’t stop, she should talk to a supervisor. In the second one, she wasn’t crying, but she still didn’t think she wanted to stay at the workshop. She did.
I bought some chocolate covered pretzels Tuesday. She asked for some Tuesday night as we were driving home, so she read me the nutrition information, and I figured out how much insulin she’d need to have some. Tonight I asked her where the pretzels were. She started in on a long story. She got into them and ate them last night. Her blood sugar wasn’t high this morning because I’m trying to correct my mistake and get all her long acting insulin back to evening.
I may have sighed, but I didn’t say anything about what she’d done. She, however, went ballistic. She walked out. She swore at me. She told me her health was none of my business. She told me she didn’t need my help with anything.
She eventually apologized, of course. When she finally calmed down, I pointed out that when she asked me for pretzels, she was able to have some. I suggested that if she had tried the same thing last night, she could have avoided all the drama.
Do I expect her to remember that next time? No, but I hope. I have to keep hoping. It’s an occupational hazard.