Rainy Days and Mondays

They say it's raining cats and dogs, but a more accurate description would involve elephants.

The rain started around 1 AM. The romantic idea of sleeping through rainstorms was invented by someone who doesn't have children or dogs. Chris took child duty, I took the dogs. Chris definitely got the better end of the deal since ChellBell still takes Loritab at night because of her broken arm. Don't fault me, but I checked the bottle to see if there was enough to give each dog a dose.

With every bolt of lightning the little dog would growl -- that I'm-not-very-big-but-I'm-going-to-growl-anyway sound that resembles a blender that needs to be replaced. The big dog doesn't care about the lightning, but the thunder that follows gets him in a tizzy, and he starts to bark that I-am-a-big-mean-dog-so-don't-mess-with-me bark. He looks at me, looks back at the window, looks back at me, and I swear he's standing guard so that no thunder will hurt us. Of course, try to send him outside to pee, and he turns into a scaredy cat. But he'll bark from the window all day until he scares that thunder away.

So five and a half hours into dog duty, the rain still had not stopped. By 6:30 this morning, the rain was torrential, and our back yard now has that swimming pool we've been wanting.

Amazing how rain changes the whole landscape of the day. When it rains, it pours. Seriously. Anything that could go wrong went wrong, and I have new found respect for those great lip synching philosophers, Milli Vanilli, who understood that we should Blame It on the Rain. (see how long that songs sticks in your head today!) ChellBell's idea, which emerged during our 30 minute wait in the carpool line this morning, was simple brilliance, "We shouldn't have to go to school on days like today." I couldn't have said it better myself. Like a new type of floating holiday, the "weather permitting" days, where we decide that the weather is preventing us from making it into the office and being productive employees.

But until that day, here I sit, tardy but not absent, in my pants that are still wet and bare feet so my shoes can dry out, with hair that even the CHI couldn't straighten.

But my coffee never tasted better and I think the sun may be starting to peek through.