"That's not fair!"

"That's not fair!" We hear it all the time, and every time, it pains us. It is the "trickle down" or "domino" effect of diabetes.

Whenever we treat Jack's low blood sugar and don't allow Madeline and Max to have some juice or candy too, we hear, "That's not fair!" But Madeline and Max do not need to eat gummy worms before bed. What's not fair is that their brother has type 1 diabetes, but that's tough to see when you're only four or seven years old.

Madeline and Jack have been taking tennis lessons. Each week, after their lesson, they exit the courts as happy as could be. They love tennis, and they love their instructor...who doles out candy to all students as a reward at the end of every lesson. A typical post-tennis talk goes like this, "Mom, look! I got a lollypop!" "Ooh, yummy! Let's save that for later," I respond, wanting to save the sugar for when it's needed, when it won't necessitate another insulin injection and when it won't cause blood sugar issues. "But, mom, that's not fair! How come all of the other kids can eat theirs now?" "You can eat yours too, but just not now." As you can imagine, that never goes over well. Why can't this teacher reward them with a high five or with a sticker? Why does she repeatedly use candy? Why does she feel the need to reward them at all? It's not as if she puts them through something traumatic or challenging.

This past week, as we were leaving the tennis complex with Madeline's friend, who also takes lessons, Madeline asked her friend's mother, "Can we have a play date or a sleep over?" Her mother kindly responded that she'd be happy to make plans, as her daughter would love to have Madeline over to their house one day soon. "Hey, that's not fair!" Jack pointed out with tears about to roll. "How come she gets more play dates and more sleep overs than I do? How come I can't go to my friends' houses as often as Madeline goes to her friends' houses?"

If only going to a friend's house were as simple and as safe for Jack as it is for Madeline... Jack can't go to a friend's house unless that friend's parent has been trained in diabetes management, and the truth is that many parents are too scared and too nervous to take on the responsibility. Plus, there is so much information to remember, even with the cheat sheets we provide and even with the ability to call us, that unless you use the information on a regular basis, it's easily forgotten, which scares us. Now, that is not to say that Jack never enjoys play dates at others' houses. He does. We do have some wonderful friends, who have been trained, who are happy to have Jack as a guest, who don't mind diabetes, and whom we trust. We also often accompany him to others' houses. But sleep overs, they're another story. We're not ready to leave him after dark, because he has so many nighttime lows and highs. Some of the toughest times to manage diabetes come at night.

I should also add that we host play dates and sleep overs, too. But Jack knows the difference and wishes he could venture away from us as often as his sister does.

Last Friday, we attended Harvest Fest, the annual carnival at the kids' school. Like most carnivals, this one featured fun food. Every where we looked, we saw someone munching on kettle korn or devouring cotton candy. "Can we get some kettle korn?...Can we have cotton candy too?" We tried to hold off. "Let's not. We haven't had dinner yet," we replied, intentionally avoiding the mention of diabetes. "But that's not fair! How come our friends can have it and we can't?"

And then we ran into friends, who graciously offered to share their cotton candy. "Want some?" the dad asked. "Please! Please can't we have some?" the kids begged. We allowed them to enjoy some, figuring eating a little from a friend's bag, rather than consuming an entire bag of our own, was a good compromise.

And then came another pal's parent, who suggested we all buy kettle korn to enjoy while passing time, waiting for Madeline and her daughter to perform in a cheerleading routine. We gave in, and then lucky for us, while attempting to open his bag of the sweet stuff, Jack spilled half on the ground. We all grabbed hand fulls, sharing and sparing Jack the carbs.

By the time Madeline's cheer performance had ended, Jack's blood sugar had spiked to 407. One clump of cotton candy and a hand full of kettle korn, and he was high. All Gregg and I could think was, "That's not fair!"

None of this stuff is fair, is it? We don't wish to be the mean parents. We don't wish to forbid our kids treats on special occasions. We don't wish for Jack to miss out on play dates and sleep overs. We don't wish for our kids to feel frequently denied. We don't wish for our kids to feel life is unfair.

We try so hard to do the right thing for all three of our kids. We try to balance their needs versus their desires. We try to enable Jack to do all the things his brother and sister can easily do. We try to remember that Madeline and Max need as much attention as Jack does, and we try to give them that attention. We try to let go and let loose when we can. We want to create good times and happy memories.

It's a fine line we walk. We must play it safe at all times. Jack's well-being depends that. Diabetes complicates on our lives on so many levels. We can't just do what we want.

It's not fair, is it? But, really, life is not fair in general, and all kids need to learn that. Unfortunately, for our kids, they need to learn it now.