Double Rainbows and the Secret to Lasting Happiness

Last night, out my front living room window a double rainbow arched across the sky. The rain left behind shiny, wet streets, thick, humid air, and a double arch of colored ribbons hanging from the clouds. Two rainbows. One inside the other. The kids and I hurried outside to look at it. It was absolutely breathtaking. Staring at that double rainbow made me so happy. And it got me thinking. Is there such a thing as living every day as a double rainbow day? I mean we all know double rainbows don't last. All rainbows fade into the sun-drenched sky and leave you feeling kind of blue, like something spectacular has happened but you can't hold onto it.
  

It has been a double rainbow summer and I'm sad to see it end. Oh, sure the kids are ready to get back to a routine and admittedly so am I. Or, so I thought until I saw that double rainbow. Then I realized it was farewell to the giant waterslide in the backyard. Goodbye to our day trips to Silver Lake to explore and hike. I'm going to miss sack lunches at the park followed by sixty cent ice cream cones at Arctic Circle just because it's Wednesday. No more 9 a.m. bike rides to the park just to mix things up a bit and those dollar movies will only happen on the weekends. Ah, the fading double rainbow. Going back to school is bittersweet.

BUT.

And there is the infamous B-U-T. Because even with all the fun, every moment of every day has had its less than perfect moments that I surely will not miss. And if you're a mother you know what I'm talking about. Those moments where one kid is upset because so and so won't let him take a turn on the computer. The whines and complaints can most certainly drain your brain and numb your soul.

Mo-om, so and so won't let me hold the kitty.

Mo-om, why can't you take me to my friend's house right now?

Mo-om why can't I have six popsicles for breakfast?

Mo-om, why can't we go to Boondocks today?

If you choose to spend your summer in those brain-draining, spirit-testing, moments where one more whine is going to push you over the edge, well, then you'll miss that double rainbow. That, my friend, is really the secret to living a happy life. I'm sure of it. If you're so worried about life's little annoyances that you can't spend 20 minutes to look at a rainbow on your front porch you've missed what you're here for.

Kids won't beg you when they're grown ups to take you to the splash park so, forget that kid #3 called you a bad name because you didn't bring her Barbie towel and instead memorize what it felt like watching her run through the sprinkles and sprays on a hot summer day and you'll feel like you've held a double rainbow.

Yes, I'm going to remember what it felt like riding the Bonsai tube behind the boat with my oldest daughter and how she laughed when I tried to tip her over. I'm going to relish what it felt like waterskiing at sundown and appreciate the peacefulness of taking walks at the crack of dawn.

Wasn't it Mother Superior who asked in the Sound of Music, "How do you hold a rainbow in your hand?" (oops it was a moonbeam but same thing).  Anyhow, I've come to accept that it is impossible to hold a rainbow in your hand—especially a double one. You can't hold perfection but you can enjoy it while it's here and choose not take it for granted. Double rainbows will disappear and you'll have to wait for them to come back. Until they do you can keep the memory. You can remember what it felt like the moment that you saw that double arch. And you can breathe it in deeply. You can scrapbook it and write about it and feel happy that you've tucked those good summer memories away in your heart forever.

If you were stressed out and frazzled this summer, don't worry. Summer will be back. Just like that double rainbow, it will reappear again and you'll get to do it all over again. And maybe this time you'll try to enjoy it while it lasts because that is the secret to holding a double rainbow in your hand.

I love you kids! You make every day a double rainbow day.

(Even when you whine.)

Love,

Mom