Let me back up a bit. The past week has been a busy one, with all of PJ's usual therapies and activities. I have also been working on a nice bought of Fall Cleaning, which can turn into quite an ordeal foe someone
I also managed to squeeze in a girls night out with two of my oldest and dearest before being flung into a week where Pete's work schedule had him gone four nights in a row. So, needless to say, we all had our hands full here, and my blog suffered for it, even though I had (as usual) much to say.
Last night I was all ready to sit down at the keyboard, but I watched The Night of Too Many Stars, the Comedy Central telethon to raise money for Autism treatments and programs. Much of the show was hysterical, of course, but there were a few moments that were so completely, emotionally overwhelming that I could not stop my tears. If I had tried to write, it would have been the equivalent of Emotional Ebola; so much feeling just oozing out of my pores. This moment...oh my God, are there even any words?
My friends (especially Randi. Hi, Randi!) know that it does not take much to make me cry, and I have sniffled back tears with my credit card in hand for tons of telethons. This one, however, was for something that affected my own little family, that my son faces every day (with the drive of his beloved Thomas the Train, by the way!). It Just. Hit. So. Close. To. Home. It reminded me that even though our dreams are still bright and shinny and amazing, they were rewritten in the blink of an eye. A year after we began this journey, it can still be a tough pill to swallow.
A line in the song kept playing through my head: Maybe your reason why all the doors are closed/So you can open one that leads you to the perfect road. Despite my girl crush and pink hair envy, Katy Perry is no Bernie Taupin, but she hit the damn nail on the head with this one. When PJ was diagnosed, it was like an audible slam! It took awhile to realize that this was all...okay. Not right or fair or perfect or anything like I wanted. But, okay. PJ may not end up on a stage singing with Katy Perry (although his Daddy would be thrilled to facilitate that meeting, ha ha!) but, maybe, he'll sing dirty songs about boobs with some of his friends when he's twelve. You know, or something. The point is, we'll open up the right door.
Damn it. Emotional Ebola. But, it's a mild case in comparison to the outbreak had I sat down to blog last night!
At any rate, if you would like to donate:
|Click the image above for full donation policy and info, not to mention clips and recaps from the telethon!|