Locked in the Vault

Today was one of those days - you know, when you wake up in the morning and you swear it's a Monday. The baby woke me up at 5:15, ate a quarter of a bottle and then went back to sleep. The girls were on the cranky side and just steadily increased the crank factor throughout the morning. I'm trying to get my house clean for a party I'm hosting on Friday and none of the stars were in my favor.

The girls finally crashed in the early afternoon and the baby finally decided to stop eating for a few hours. It started to rain while the girls slept and we had a pretty good soak going by the time my eldest awoke. She asked me if she could wear her puddle boots to dance class and I decided to one up her. I told her to put her boots on, I took my husband's old raincoat out of the closet and we went outside to stomp in some puddles. About half an hour later my middle one woke up and joined in the fun.

When I was in middle school, I vividly recall a summer rainstorm. The rain was warm but came down in a sudden downpour. The sewers backed up, so there was a really fast running stream down the curbs on my block. My dad pulled me outside, no raincoat or puddle boots needed, and we floated sticks down the gutter streams. It was really warm outside and the rain was perfect. I'd always liked rainstorms, but there was something about that day, being with my dad, that made the rain that much better.

My girls might be a little young to remember this day, but I've got it locked in the vault.