Sheldon the Chinook

Remember those Nerdy Christmas presents I told you all about?!

I kinda sorta took one to work....

This is work...

....and it kinda sorta sat on the shelf for like 1 day....

...on this here shelf...

....and then, against my better judgement and with a whole lotta peer pressure, it snuck out of it's package....

...said package...

....and made it's way into some capable and some not-so-capable hands (like mine).....

...my not-so-capable hand...and why is it doing the weird star trek thing?!

....and now I must master it. "IT" being Mr. Sheldon Chinook (and yes, contrary to tradition, it's a Mr. because I'm a girl and it is most definitely my little Chinook).....

Thanks Mom and Dad for the RC Chinook! Not sure if you ever dreamed it would end up outside it's package, but you should have known the guys would HAVE to play with it!

And remember that time I was the coolest Type 1 Diabetic Chinook pilot? Yeah, it definitely doesn't fly like a real one.

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MCM - Certified Mom

This morning I woke up early, the baby monitor was chirping just a few minutes before my alarm was set to go off. Chris graciously rolled out of bed and set out to re-insert Otto's paci. Meanwhile, I pressed my clothes, curled my hair and brewed some coffee - my standard pre-console routine. After a quick breakfast Zara peeped her head over the railing and I heard a gentle "mama" echo down the stairs. It was still dark, but this little one was ready for her daily breakfast of oatmeal and milk in preparation for a fun day at swim lessons and school. As she sat, eating her "oatsss" (as she calls them), I whirled around the kitchen prepping bottles, gathering outfits for school, and ensuring all the swim lesson supplies were set out. It's hard leaving Chris to take care of both kids in the morning (#momguilt) so I try my best to complete as many get-ahead tasks as possible, in hopes his morning goes smoothly.
This morning schedule description may seem mundan…

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MCM - On Call

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Critical Space Item: Handle With Extreme Care

Someday I want to open a box. The box will be neatly wrapped up with an excessive amount of packaging. Its contents will have been years in the making, and even though it won't weigh much, this small box will represent a huge step forward.

As most flight hardware begins, the space-rated closed-loop insulin delivery and monitoring device inside the box will be sterile and stark. But as the batteries whir to life and insulin is placed within, it will become an extra appendage, an external pancreas, for this Type 1 astro-hopeful. Bluetooth connections will be made and doctors, hungry for telemetry from my bionic body, will be at the ready. We will rely on each other - he on I for his very existence, and I on him for my continued existence. Together we will make up one whole, completely functioning, Type 1 Diabetic astronaut.

Admittedly, this dream feels further and further from reality. I have lived with this disease just under 20 years now, and the cure has always been "just 5 …

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