Here and Now

I am an eternal optimist.  It's what I do.  I am certain that regardless of the trial, things are going to turn out okay.  I want everyone to be happy all. the. time.  I really do think that everything is always going to be fine...better than fine...wonderful.  There are times when my unflappable optimism is an asset.  But there are times when I don't know what to do with myself.  It has been exactly two months since my last post and the real reason for that is my complete and utter hatred of writing unhappy thoughts.  Isn't that silly?  It's my blog, my place to journal our lives, something to look back on to recreate the story of us when I can't remember it anymore.  Life has ups and downs and I am certainly aware of the fact that it's not all raindrops on roses for anyone.  I am at least somewhat rational and aware that it won't hurt a soul if I actually write about everything.  However, the last couple of months have been rather trying and at the end of a busy day that was wholly lacking "whiskers on kittens", I would much rather park it on the couch and lose myself in the latest episode of Smash.  And on another note, how freaking awesome is Smash?!  :-)  But I digress...

Colin is having a hard time.  A really really hard time.  See, I just wrote that phrase and then paused while I wondered how to go on with the story.  There is so much and it's all so much greater than words on a page.  He is beautiful and healthy and we have a wonderful life.  We are blessed.  I like to focus on that.  But there is a lot more to the story.  His anxiety disorder is overwhelming him right now and as his mother, it's a lot.  Our daily life is a minefield at the moment.  I suppose that things have always been like that in a way, but I was always able to carry him over the obstacles in our path.  He is too big to carry now and while I am still holding his hand, he is having to learn to walk beside me through them.  Does that make sense?  I hope so.

His fear paralyzes him from deep within and the examples are plenty.  I could write all night and not begin to share everything that has happened.  I tried to pick him up from school after getting a haircut and he wouldn't come out of the classroom or allow me to touch him.  Some days he can't go inside the grocery store and he can no longer get a haircut.  I had to invest in my own salon tools and have taught myself how to do it via youtube videos and prayer.  (just don't look too closely at his hair and it's fine)  ;-)  We miss parties and ball games and now he can't get himself inside the school.  That is the only one that we can't let go of and now going to class involves back entrances and teachers holding him down so that I can leave while his screams echo around me.  That one breaks me into a thousand pieces and shatters every ounce of bravery that I have.  And I always just manage to get myself back into my car before I crack.  I have to lay my head down on the steering wheel and cry until it feels better and I remind myself that he. is. going. to. be. fine.  And HE IS.  I am down on occasion, but I am not out.  And don't all mothers do this?  Carry the weight of the world on our shoulders so that our babies don't hurt?  My load is far lighter than so many others and I know this and am thankful. 

We had a parent conference with his therapist yesterday and she said something that really hit me.  She told us that we need a chance to mourn the loss of the childhood we thought he would have.  Which is so perfectly true.  I can't keep trying to fit a round peg into a square hole.  He is probably not ever going to be on the baseball team or in every possible school club and activity (ahem...like his mother was).  He looks like me for sure, but he is Colin and he is going to like what HE likes.  And that is okay!  I could honestly care less!  But I have been trying so hard to give him what I thought was the perfect childhood and I need to start paying more attention to what he actually wants rather than my idealistic image of it. 

The good news is that we have a team of the absolute best professionals in the world helping Colin and I know that we are going to turn the corner soon.  Everyone is already helping in every way they can.  As the mother bear, I do find myself wanting to stand in front of him and keep judging eyes away from my baby.  But I also truly and completely don't care what others think.  Today, we attempted an Easter egg hunt at our pediatrician's office.  He is so sweet and hosts the most adorable hunt in the yard beside his parking lot.  I thought Colin might like it because of it's small scale and he was so so so excited to go.  He even got out of the car and walked up to the festivities!  When we left the house, I assured him that we would drive by first and check it out and he could decide if he wanted to try it.  He hopped right out when we got there and walked up into the crowd, which was just a miracle.  He even lined up with all the other 3 to 6 year olds (there were probably 20 other kids his age, 50 total at the whole event) with his basket, all ready to go.  But when Dr. Martin's wife yelled, " Get Ready, Get Set, GO!", he froze and burst into tears.  Heaving crying and literally frozen on the little curb in front of the grass.  I tried everything to calm him down, but he was beside himself.  He stood there rooted to the ground while all the eggs were hunted.  He took his deep breaths and then pulled himself out of my shirt and asked if I would go with him and hold his hand.  But, of course, the eggs were all gone.  And then it was a real breakdown when he realized that he missed the whole thing.  He went into full panic attack mode where I can't touch him or calm him and we just have to ride it out until I can break through to him.  And these are the moments when I feel the eyes on us...Colin raging and screaming...but today, I did not care.  Not a bit.  One extremely wonderful mom (just one), took a handful of eggs out of her daughters basket and quietly placed them in the one I was holding while Colin screamed.  And I wanted to wrap my arms around her and thank her, but I couldn't...so I mouthed my thanks and said a little prayer of gratitude for the people in this world like her.  And you can bet that I held Colin in the car and told him that the Easter bunny was going to bring him the very best Easter egg hunt in the free world and it would be a thousand times better than anything that could have been in those eggs he missed.  Which reminds me, I really need to go back to the store before tomorrow night.  ;-) 

You know what else his counselor told us?  That Colin was brilliant and blows her mind constantly.  She said that while we do need to mourn the loss of what we pictured for him, we need to also enjoy the special gifts that we are lucky enough to be apart of.  And I didn't need that advice at all.  Colin is the most amazing boy in the world.  Listening to him talk and simply being near his mind is more joy than I could have fathomed.  He is awesome.  He likes to watch heart surgery online.  He spends half an hour making an anatomically correct heart as decoration on an Easter egg.  He contemplates the universe.  He accepts absolutely nothing as fact and needs to see what makes everything tick.  He is, quite simply, the coolest kid I have ever met.  So this blog is going to perk up.  I am going to write about the amazing things that come out of his mouth.  I am going to write about how much smarter he is than me.  I am going to write about our bad days and I am going to write about the outstanding ones.  I want to remember all of it and the majority IS silver white winters that melt into spring.  Well, not exactly in Texas, but you know what I mean.  :-)