Day 241...Grays and rainbows

I like to think of myself as an eternal optimist, but I also like to think, as a good persuasive argument, that recognizing an antithesis confirms even better my intended point.  My optimistic philosophy is likewise strengthened when I give room for what can sometimes be a disheartening reality. I seem to balance my self-reflection somewhere between laziness and annoying hyperstimulation, so I hope this comes out as I intend...somewhere in the comfortable waters of "I'm treading, I'm figuring this out, I'm doing what works for me." 

I see the good and talk about the good and try to make my outlook fit me like a well-tailored suit, allowing me to use my strengths and yet paving the way for growth from the not-so-pretty times. Being a mom has taught me to do this.  To have a glass half full.  Likewise, I know and love and respect others with different philosophies and have had discerning moments of clarity from their sometimes more dismal perspectives. Because sometimes life is hard and reality does suck and ignoring that fact does not give room for the progress and production that can come from those moments...

When more painful moments come--and they do--I want to pay appropriate attention to what they can teach me. Sometimes when anxiety or discomfort or that throat-constricting sadness arrives, I want to heave it along like a hot potato that doesn't belong amongst the colorful rainbows I aim to create for my family.  But gray has a beauty all in its own. Gray is purposeful too, and while I may instinctively attempt to quickly fold it and stash it away, I am learning to first to find the beauty in cold and calm as well as warm and spirited.

With that unnecessarily long disclaimer, I think it is only fair I pull out the gray I folded up earlier this week and let it have its moment too.

Doctors and therapies and sleepless nights.  Many, many sleepless nights.  But that's not it.  I'm used to those things.

During Rhys's PT this week, a PT student was observing.  She quietly sat, watched and I supposed she learned.  But then she opened her mouth.  "Angelman Syndrome very much effects his motor skills."  Ya, no shit sherlock!  But then she went on asking about life expectancies, what he won't do.  I sat there.  Rob piped in about his progress and how hopeful we are.  He was on the defense...and I'm so glad he was there to combat what I wanted to say, or do.  He's funny like that...always around just when I need him :)

And here's the deal. I know all these things she said are a possibility.  I know she's just educating herself,  maybe in the wrong environment, but that education of Angelman Syndrome is important and what I'm trying to do myself.  I know she didn't mean to hurt us in any way.  But that doesn't change the fact that these are the things that still scare the hell out of me. I keep those things pushed back and try not to think of them until it's necessary. I am hopeful, and today is really all that matters, yada, yada, yada--today is good--but somewhere there is a part of us that hopes every day that, no matter what, our kids will outlive us with, maybe even take care of us someday. It's a parent's greatest unwritten plea.  I know the scientific data...and having this so nonchalantly said to us...made me really, really sad this past week.

I held the hot potato, I felt the burns, I cried and used it to fuel me. I am at peace now and am grateful for our very beautiful right now. I will not dwell on tomorrow, because it is unknown and filled with voids. Today is quite the contrary. Today is good. And I write not for sympathy or to ignite a discussion of optimism vs. pessimism, or what Rhys will or will not do.  I do it to push the unicorns and rainbows back to the surface and make the small things even better.
Which is why I'm completely stoaked about my spontaneous decision to take the brood to Zoo Boise in the pouring rain!  The challenge thrilled me.  I wasn't about to let this gray weather keep us in the house for one more day.
We bundled up and went exploring.  We kicked this rainy, cold gray day in the butt...with a Lighting' McQueen and a Princess umbrella you can do anything!

 And I got to bust out these bad boys...
It was a hairy warthog sorta week...
but we made the most out of it.  We even topped it off with sprinkled donuts.  Yummmm.

Life is sometimes hard. Reality sometimes sucks. But most of the time? Most of the time, it's amazing.