Shhhh... Experiments in Progress

If you are around this weekend, don't bother stopping by - we're out of town.

Okay, so the kids are going to be home, but the Man and I will be a whole two hours away. All weekend. Yes, we just got home from the hospital, and yes, everybody's still recovering from the four weeks of nosebleeds that sent us there, and yet. We're leaving the kids, and bugging out. All the way to Connecticut. Got to be done.

(okay, can I say now that I'm scared a little spitless?)

We've never left the kids before. On our tenth anniversary, the Man and I barely considered the idea of a solo vacation before booking a cabin that could sleep four. (barely) How could we leave them? Leaving a child with a bleeding disorder (nevermind allergies, that's another post) means you need to train the person who looks after them, teach them when to worry, when to take the first measures, when to call in the cavalry. That caregiver has to have nerves of steel, and an impeccable poker face. They need to be able to ask the kid why he's limping, without giving away anything roiling on the inside. It takes real courage to accept that an emergency is happening in front of you, and *you* are the one who has to deal with it - denial is not an option.

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Miryam is the contributing editor for Bleeding Disorders. She also covers Allergies. She also writes at her personal blog, Breeding Imperfection.

Miryam's Story

Miryam is the contributing editor for Bleeding Disorders. She also covers Allergies. She also writes at her personal blog, Breeding Imperfection.

Miryam is the mother to two boys, including one would rather not clot, if you don't mind. This is something that the doctors call hemophilia (severe hem A, for those of you who like to keep count) and which Miryam calls a pain in the ass. Aside from the Eldest's immunological rebellion (called inhibitors by you nitpickers) when he was small, he now has regular infusions of clotting medicine. It nearly works as well as it is supposed to, and offers a worryingly enjoyable opportunity to stick a small child with smaller needles. But hey.

The Eldest and his sidekick, the Toddles, joined forces to rebel against this carefully managed parental regime o' medical terror, and struck first at Miryam's pantry (we should note here that Miryam loves food. Loves it. Love, love, love.). Between them, they managed to eliminate dairy, eggs, peanuts, tree nuts, sesame, poppy, pumpkin, zucchini, a bunch of beans, wheat, rye, barley, spelt and kiwi. When Miryam glared at them, they reluctantly returned the soy, corn, oats and a paltry few of the beans.

But Miryam still loves food. And she hasn't put the boys up on eBay yet.