Oh…I mean senses of humor. We have survived with our marriage in tact, partly because of our collaborative sick and twisted way of looking at things. Things we find funny that others probably won’t:

During a quiet moment in the car on date night Julian said to me “you know, I would never kill you…because I am not doing this alone” and I thought it was hysterical.

Gage & Quinn are on more BP meds then our parents.

When we meet people at parties we ask them their blood type.

I refer to Julian as my other recessive half.

We often refer to the “in sickness and in health” part of our marriage vows in a “what were we thinking agreeing to that?” kind of way.

Shortly after the kids were diagnosed with ARPKD I looked at Julian and sweetly said “you know, I wouldn’t want to go through this with anyone but you” and after a little thought said “wait a minute – I wouldn’t be going through all of this if it wasn’t for you.”

Edited below

I’ve had many topics swirling around in my head since I’ve been away recovering from surgery. It’s very interesting being the patient instead of the parent of a patient.

Need to write about…

Kindergarten Revisited – and how people look at you when you tell them and the things they say and the things they shouldn’t.

Senseless Humor. Um…I mean senses of humor. If we didn’t have that where would we be?

The kids’ vision disorder (Ocularmotor Apraxia) isn’t considered a visual impairment by the government. Um…yeah. Okay.

How parenting kids with a chronic life threatening illness changes you as a parent and a couple.

Mourning the loss of a neighborhood. It was a no-brainer. We had to move out of our historic, lovely, neighborhood in the interest providing a solid public education for two special needs kids. You wouldn’t think a year after moving 5 miles a significant period of mourning would occur, but it has.

Dear Quinn letter. The girl has turned 4 already. I need to write her a letter about how crazy cute she is when talks and confuses her words, or belly laughs, or tries to stand or hop on one leg.

I can think and write about all of this now that the painkillers have worn off.

Edited to add – there are more things to write about!

Child Management Program: translate: Parental Behavior Modification Program. We can follow instructions.

The High Cost of Walking. Literally. Now that I’ve had some time away from when the kids couldn’t walk (Gage at 25 months, Quinn around 24 months) I have things to say about using a walker, braces, and most recently orthodics in  Gage’s shoes. There are actually parents who don’t want noticeable aides to help their kids learn to walk. I have some comments about that too, while I’m at it.