Ever start out a day with the highest hopes and then one disaster leads to another? The girls both woke up too early this morning and then again early and cranky from too short of naps. What do you do with them? I went outside and hung a load of wash out, but both of them were just terrible outside. They were whiny, they were just too much to handle. It was time for a walk. I stuffed some snacks in the stroller, herded them out the door and we were off to kill some time, gain a better perspective on life, and hopefully have some fun.
It was not meant to be. About 1/2 a mile down the road it started to sprinkle. I've walked in the rain plenty of times, no big deal. Emma was riding her bike singing her heart out and we kept going. Then it started to down-pour. We don't get a lot of tropical storms in this region, okay, Oregon is not actually tropical at all. But we had one today. For this weather phenomenon I will start at "A" and name it Tropical Storm Albert. I dashed under some trees by the side of the road with Mandy in the stroller and Emma now on foot, leaving the bike on the side of the road. Albert lasted and lasted, pouring down rain and the trees were providing little shelter. We were all soaked to the skin (Mandy was just soaked a little on her feet, but she still whined about it). I called my beloved and he said he had the same storm and it just ended, probably a 20-30 minute "shower." No, no, this is not just a shower, it is Tropical Storm Albert. Also, I realized too late that we were standing in a lovely grove of Poison Oak -- my arch enemy and the cause of last summers face blow-up and horrible suffering. I decided to make a break for it, stashed Emma's bike in the bushes for pick up later and I loaded the girls up and ran in my squishy sandals, both girls crying and howling the whole way home.
I had my camera along because I thought I would take pictures of the girls in the sunflower field down the road. The weather was fine when we left. Instead I captured our misery.
I was in the kitchen, throwing things together, yelling at Emma for spilling about a gallon of water on the floor and then throwing my sweatshirt in it to "clean it up" when I yelled, "I am not in a good mood. Everyone needs to just leave me alone." She responded with, "I want you in a good mood. Please don't roar (yell) at me." Me: "I don't know how to be in a good mood right now. The house is a mess, Mandy is crying, and I just want to get out of here." Her little wise response, "God can make you happy. Just ask." Where does this kid get these things? Her mother must be amazingly brilliant and never has an attitude problem.
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