Give Me A Rainy Day

It is a dreary, wet day today. The sky is the color of the dirty white walls in our house, and a steady rain has been beating the sidewalk and street since before we rolled out of bed this morning. Although soggy, the grass looks greener for the rain and the cars on our short little street appear thankful to have had the bird waste washed from their doors and the paint freshened up by the removal of dirt and grime.

Today the birds are sighing from the strong branches of the trees across the street, fluttering their wings in acceptance of the rain but caring little for song and gaiety. A stray cat or two slinks down the road in search of a free meal, its drenched bedraggled fur clinging to the ribcage that juts out even more exaggeratedly in the downpour.

A little boy pokes his face through a section of broken blinds, his own little window to the outside world, looking for his daddy to come home because, after all, it seems to be dark out there and dusk is daddy’s usual time for coming home. After keeping a lookout for a bit he resigns himself to the couch to watch his favorite movie-of-the-week, Singing In The Rain, which today seems oddly appropriate.

His little sister is snug in mommy’s arms next to him. An occasional sad-sounding cough reverberates through her chest; her eyes red and runny. These types of melancholy days are more conducive to forgetting the housework and nestling a sick baby as opposed to bright and sunny days that energize and demand productivity.

Never mind the pile of folded laundry that awaits its return to the dresser drawer where it will sit until worn, soiled and washed again. The dirty dishes will still be in the sink later, or tomorrow when perhaps the sun will find its way from behind the cloaked sky and make the chore a little more cheery. There is a particular amount of satisfaction to be had in passing a dreary afternoon with one’s babies safely tucked away in their mommy’s arms.

Wow. The Sun Is Hot.

One would think that I’m a brand-new mom and have never taken my children outside in the warmer weather. It was nice and toasty warm here today and my girlfriend and I took the kiddos to the park. It is always tricky this time of year when it comes to appropriate outdoor attire. Sometimes there is still a bit of a nip in the air even when the temperature goes up.

I decided against putting the little guy in shorts and opted for what I thought was the safer choice: wind pants. Last summer I stored a bottle of sunblock in the car so that I didn’t have to remember to take it with me every time I left the house. Of course I haven’t gotten around to doing that yet this year.















So there we were at the park. And let me tell ya, it was pretty darn hot out there today. Way too hot for wind pants and way too intense for fair skin to be without sunblock. After being there for about five minutes I was trying to decide whether the flush in my kid’s cheeks was extremely fast-acting sunburn that had the ability to penetrate the hat he wore or if he was being smothered to death by his too-hot pants.















One of the other young mothers (whose bag looked like it had enough stuff in it to cover any feasible emergency and then some) took pity on me as she watched me fret over the poor little guy’s face and offered to share her sunblock and some advice. For all of you out there who are ignorant in the purchasing of sunblock and just buy whatever brand you can find that is available with SPF 45, she told me that Blue Lizard sunblock is the best for kids because it contains zinc oxide (she works at a dermatologist office, so I guess she would know).















The little guy had tons of fun going down the slides while his sister chilled in the stroller and I found myself able to relax a little knowing that the sun wasn’t going to char and disfigure my baby’s face. I do believe I will put him in shorts tomorrow, especially if our day entails any romping around in the afternoon sun; and as soon as the period is typed onto the end of this sentence I am going to grab the pink tube of tear-free SPF 50 sunblock and put it into the diaper bag.

Hey, Your Sand is Touching My Spider

We continued to enjoy the unseasonably warm weather by spending the afternoon at Nana’s house. Nana has a nice big yard and a sandbox. The sandbox has a lid, but we learned that the lid being in place does not stop small spiders from seeking refuge in the warm un-freezable sand. Nana had exiled close to a dozen of them before I had to go inside to tend to the baby. Another note to sandbox-owning readers: after a nice summer rain don’t mistake those little flat black things in the sand for twigs; they are actually dried out worms that crawled in under the lid during the rainfall. Worms do not survive as well in the sand as do spiders.

Shocking Weather

It is a mere thirteen days after Christmas. Some people have yet to take down their outdoor holiday decorations, and there are still small clumps of snow here and there. At least there were yesterday. Here in eastern Pennsylvania the temperature should be hovering around freezing; however, today is was a balmy sixty-five. I have always wondered why sixty-five feels so much warmer in the winter than it does in the summer. This time of year it seems like t-shirt weather, but in August if the thermometer dips that low it feels like wool coat weather. Very odd. Nana and I took the kids to the park today. Poor BoBeans has been trapped in the house for so long he behaved like a veritable prisoner set free, running all over the place and shouting with the other children. I do wish that I had remembered to bring my camera along to capture some of the delightful hair-raising static electricity moments.