Greater than gravity is a lyric from my favorite song. It comes close, but not quite sufficient, to communicating the depth of love I feel for my family. I’m Wendy, the smarty-pants mom of two teenagers–my 13-year-old sweet, old soul and my 15-year-old keeps-it-close-to-the-vest diagnosed with muscular dystrophy. My husband is a terrific guy, and I do know I’m a lucky girl, though outnumbered by Y-chromosome carriers in our household 3-1. I am a school-based speech-language pathologist working in the big city for a more than a quarter century. Music saves my life every single day, and I live for the band Barenaked Ladies. I have the world’s worst visual-motor integration skills which means I have to rely on my wit and a keyboard for any outward expression of creativity.
This blog began as a mechanism to save my sanity after learning our son had MD, though the jury’s still out on its effectiveness toward that end. Turns out I truly enjoy writing, but I don’t write so much about our “journey” with this disease; I’ll never write about a journey of any type not involving actual transit–not a fan of the term journey as it relates to personal revelation with illness or disease. Any journey with MD is a one-way ticket to a place I don’t even want to know exists. I do write about being a parent, but you have to know that I’m quick to take a detour or two. Or six. And I have a potty mouth. I’m funny sometimes, but I acknowledge that I’m nowhere near as funny as I think I am. I’m an easy crowd that way.
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