Saturday, March 18, 2006
It's been raining all day today. Kind of nice, really. We desperately needed it. And there are times I really enjoy being in my cozy, little house, watching it rain. I like hearing the soothing noise of raindrops gently tapping out a little lullaby. It makes me think of that song in "Bambi"..."drip, drip, drop, little April showers..." Wow. I relate a lot of things to Disney movies. Geez. I am such a mom. Anyway, I was painting a picture of a lovely, relaxing, rainy day, right? Now add a few kids with cabin fever and a stir crazy mom and that is more like it. We've been hanging out at home a lot this week since Baby has been sick and everyone was a bit restless today. Ordinarily I would banish Brother and Sister from the house and send them outside to burn off the energy. But today was rainy. At one point Sister asked to play with our golf umbrella, which is pretty big. But her and Brother ended up fighting over it. I dug toys out of the bottom of their toy boxes to try and generate interest in some things long forgotten, but that didn't last long either. Sister asked if she could take the umbrella outside and play with it. "No, honey," I say. "It's cold and wet." But she keeps asking. She doesn't let it go. So, I finally think, what the heck? It's water. It's not acid rain or hail. We put on her boots and jacket and send her out.
I watch her walking about the yard, umbrella propped up on one shoulder, twirling it like a parasol. She is singing an original song about flying, probably imagining she is a tortured heroine in an imaginary, romantic story. Her long, golden hair is turning wavy from the moisture and brushing her cherub cheeks like a fine, delicate picture frame. I smile. Thirty years ago, that was me. Off in my own world, writing songs in my head and performing them for imaginary audiences abroad. I love to watch her pretend.
When Brother sees what's going on, he asks to join her. So we put on his shoes, give him an umbrella and he races out the door, wanting to get in on the fun before mom realizes what a bad idea this is and calls all splashing and merrymaking to a halt. Baby cries as the storm door slams it's refusal to let her out. She watches sadly from the inside. The little boy across the street is peeking out his grandmother's storm door, too, wondering why he can't play in the rain. Oh, yeah. I am a cooooooooool mom.
Brother and Sister have a ball walking through the puddles, something they have never done before. Well, at least never under the watchful eye of mom. They stand under the eaves of the house and let the big drops dripping off the roof bang onto the tops of their umbrellas. They find the pail left out of the sandbox and watch it collect a little water. They find patches of mud to squish with their shoes. I hear them giggling outside the window while I make dinner in the kitchen. And I am happy for them. I am reminded again of how little things make childhood so much sweeter. How quickly time passes and soon you find yourself stepping over puddles instead of jumping in and enjoying it for what it is. Oh, my sweet babies. May you always jump in a puddle now and then and laugh at getting your feet wet.