Peacemaker ... Again

So. I was out and about last week with Rain. It was the day after Christmas, and I was feeling at peace with all the after-holiday glow and whatnot. The weather was pleasant but the wind was particularly strong.

We left a shop, and though the wind was fierce, I could tell Rain's diaper needed to be changed. So, I put her in the driver's seat (she loves to play with the wheel) and dumped our bags in the trunk. I quickly changed Rain's diaper in the car and watched her play with the radio for a while. After a few minutes, I informed her it was time to sit in her car seat. I scooped her up and got out. I shut the door against the gusts of wind and got into the back. The door was open about six inches while I sat inside buckling Rain in. I had just buckled her chest latch when, of course, the wind picked up. My door opened suddenly and hit the car next to me.

Mind you, I had never touched the door. I felt bad, though, so I told Rain, "Darn! Mommy has to go and see if the the door did any--"

Honestly, that's as far as I got.

Apparently, there was a lady in the car my door hit. I heard her before I saw her. She was yelling. I mean, straight up cussing me out before she ever got out of the car. I will attempt to edit the following conversation for our younger viewers:

Me, looking puzzled.

Crazy Lady: "Oh, h___ no! You b___!"

Me, still puzzled. Perhaps I ran over a kid??

CL: "You KNEW I was backing out! You should've waited for me!"

Me: "I didn't know--"

CL: "I SAW you! You were out here for 15 minutes and--"

Me, truly puzzled. If she saw me for 15 minutes, wouldn't she had to have been out here as well? How would I know then that she had finally decided to back out? Wait! It doesn't even matter because

Me: "The wind opened the door."

CL whips out her phone and dials.

CL: "It's me. This b___ [nodding to me] just hit my car!"

I HIT her car? Like a head-on collision? All remorse dripping away ...

CL: [still on phone] "Get here right now!"

I check for damage on the car. There is a single hairline of white where my door scuffed hers. I had to lean in to see it.

CL: "Give me your insurance!"

I had to look at her and the mark on the car twice to make sure I hadn't missed the dead kid that must be on the ground. Without a word, I turn to walk back to the driver's seat to get my insurance info.

CL: "You'd BETTER not be trying to leave with my information!"

Seriously? Can you say one thing without screaming?

Me: "Calm down. I'm getting it."

CL: "Oh I won't calm down! This is my son's car and I've only had it for 5 months and--"

I walk away and get the info. At this point, her husband who must have been at a shop nearby, pulls up. He can see right away that his wife is trying her best to make a scene. I shook my head, wondering what kind of man could deal with this on a daily basis? Was he more of a jerk than she was? I take out my phone and shoot a picture of the "damage." At this point, I truly, truly, truly want her to file a claim with my insurance company. I just want the joy of someone else telling her, "Seriously?"

CL's Husband: "So what happened?"

I explain it briefly. It's clear I'm not lying, and that I am 2 seconds from killing his wife. But, Rain, my Rain, is sitting in the car, listening to me. The man nods his head, and while I open up my insurance card stuff, he open the trunk of his wife's car. He pulls out a rag, and no joke, rubs the entire mark off her car. All that's left is a tiny scratch that can be buffed out. Now CL finally stops her ranting when it is absolutely clear that the damage is laughable. Her husband tells her to sit in the car. I offer my insurance information, and he shakes his head. I give him my phone number, so he can call me with the bill.

He tells me softly that he probably won't even call, as buffing out the damage will cost less than $20.

He was wrong. He called me a few days later. The cost was $5.

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out (pardon me while I have a Karate Kid moment), breathe in ...

I was livid with CL, but at the same time, I felt so much pity for her husband. He was absolutely cool about the whole thing, but his ogre wife ...

I've thought over the situation many times. When Tim and I first dated, especially before Rain was born, that was the kind of situation I would've never tolerated (someday I'll tell you about the whole mall/police incident) because I firmly believe in justice. Fair justice. Sure, I made a mistake (I should've firmly shut my car door), but did that merit all the verbal abuse? If she had seen me buckling my kid in (by her own admission, she was watching me), why decide to back out just to prove she had some sort of right-of-way?

There was a time I would not have let her talk trash without openly laughing at her (yes, I've done this, too. Sorry, but when someone acts ridiculous ...).

But, Rain. There is always Rain to consider.

God help me not to make my little peacemaker a bitter woman by example. At the time, all I did was finish buckling Rain up and say calmly, "That lady over there is crazy, and we're going to leave now before she makes us crazy, too."

I smiled and drove off, agitated, but more than that, sad for a decent man.

Peacemaker

The other day I had this lengthy discussion with Tim, and it was on a topic (to be discussed later) that we had, in one way or another, been talking about for weeks. But the conversation had, overall, been very positive except for that night. So, I went to bed kinda mad. Truth be told, that almost never happens. Tim and I aren't a fighting couple, thank God, so I've gone to bed mad maybe three times in the last six years of our marriage. I hate going to bed mad for so many reasons, but mainly because I don't like to leave ugly things festering all night. I know the next day I'll probably be more mad because I'll have had time to dissect and over analyze every word and fall into madness.

It was no surprise then that the following morning I woke up still miffed by my conversation with Tim. At some point in the night, Rain had left her bed and walked herself to our room. When she does this, Tim will lean over, scoop her up, put her between us, and fall asleep again ten seconds later.

As I laid in bed with my eyes still closed, I could feel Rain stirring. I hoped she and Tim would get up quickly, have breakfast together as usual, and give me a few minutes alone to brood. I waited a minute, but Rain continued to shuffle about and ruffle the sheets. I sighed and opened my eyes.

Rain wasn't wiping the sleep from her eyes at all. She was staring at me. When she saw that my eyes were finally opened, she smiled. A right big smile. Then her face became serious. She looked at me for a moment and stuck her tongue out as far as she could. I'd never seen her do it before, and I snorted. That was all she needed. She stuck her tongue out again, and licked her lips all the way around. She swished her tongue side to side like a frog, and I laughed. It was the first time she had every tried to make a funny face, and I was overly proud about the whole thing. She kept her eyes serious, but once she had me really laughing, she smiled as if she was very pleased with herself.

Tim awoke to me laughing. I'm sure it was the very last sound he thought he'd hear that morning. But Rain made it happen. Just when I think I've reached some kind of boiling point, she cashes in all her cute and cuddly chips. She does something that makes me look at her and think, "You are the very best of me and Daddy, and how can someone wonderful like you be made from anyone but a madly in love pair?" I mean, really, the feelings were all kinds of ooey-gooey. I don't know if she has some knack for self-preservation (like keeping us happily together is in her best interest??), but honestly, it's like she knows just when to whip out the charm and get me feeling all joyous again.

Which is a pretty stinky thing when you've lost sleep all night thinking of ways to be petty. Oh well.

On the upside, Tim & I did resolve our issues that day, and to be honest, if Rain hadn't been so loving that morning, well, I wouldn't have felt much incentive to fix things quickly.

Hmm. From Rainzilla to Rain the Peacemaker? It must be the holidays.

It's Not Easy Being Green

Before Rain, I was doing pretty well on the Green front: we bought a fuel-efficient car; we maintained the car to minimize wasted fuel; we replaced our light bulbs with energy-efficient ones; we recycled paper & plastic (we didn't have convenient pick-up service in our apartment, mind you); we reused old items in new ways; we purchased eco-friendly cleaning supplies; and so on and so forth.

After Rain's birth, I realized that saving the planet and saving my sanity were dueling efforts. It began with diapers. As much as I adored the idea of using cloth diapers, actually implementing that process was a no-go from the moment I saw what baby poo looked like. Add to the fact that I had no diaper-changing skills to flaunt, and you can understand how I ended up using, I don't know, 100 wipes at every changing.

Next to go was water. Forget about using cold-water detergent anymore, I was in my kitchen running water just to make Rain calm down. She loved the sound of rushing water, and if that meant my whole apartment went afloat just so she could settle down, oh well. After 3 weeks of newborn cries, I would've offered to sacrifice calfs for peace. And I don't even like veal.

If she wanted a bath with lots of water to play with, I was happy to oblige. That meant I could sit next to the tub--actually sit--and she could relax for half an hour.

My next war crime against Earth was electricity. Crying Baby wants a nightlight? You got it. Fan to give you white noise? You got it. Battery-dependent toys? You got it. Now you want to turn the light on and off and on and off? Have fun, sweetie!

Whatever it took to keep Rain from crying was priority number one. We were warming ONE towel in the dryer just to keep her warm and toasty when she got out of a bath.
Why all the fuss? Because Rain was fussy. She cried at every displeasure, and it didn't take but a few weeks of sleepless nights before we thought, "To heck with the planet, I need my mind!" It's hard for childless or parents of easy-going babies to understand, but believe me when I tell you, consistent newborn tears are always followed by consistent new parent tears.

On the 27th, Rain was 18 months old. For months now, her independence has cut down on her cries and neediness. She doesn't need toasty towels and white noise anymore.

Slowly, things are changing. We painted Rain's room with non-toxic, earth-friendly paints, and the recycle bins have reappeared. The energy-efficient laundry detergent graces the shelves once more, and Tim is replacing the light bulbs in our new house with the green kind. So, we're finally going green again.

Except for that diaper thing. Huggies, please.

Regression, Progression

So, I was sick for 10 days. After that, I went to 2 funerals, and tah-dah, here I am. I know, now you're worried my bad karma is going to get all over you if you keep reading this blog, huh? No worries. I strive for a 100 % karma-free environment in all my blogs; just ask OSHA. Anywhose, the last few weeks have brought a lot of changes, and I wonder where to begin? With Rain? Yes, I think so.

Rain has regressed a bit in the sleep department. About half an hour ago, she fell asleep. She's absolutely beautiful when she sleeps. Her lower lip pouts out, and she looks like a living doll. The fact that she's quiet doesn't hurt, either. When she goes to bed at night, she cuddles her huge stuffed lamb. She buries her face in him, and they snuggle fifty different ways before Rain chooses the best position for optimum comfort. The other night, we got home late, and Rain was angry because Tim wouldn't let her "drive" the car (she likes to sit in the driver's seat, put the key in the ignition, and play the radio). So, Tim had to drag her into the house raving mad. I put her in bed, and she kicked Lamb out. She looked at me all huffy, and really gave Lamb one in the face. I rolled my eyes and waited. As expected, Rain curled up and fell asleep in her blankets within five minutes. By the next night, her and Lamb had made up.

So, overall, I can't complain about the sleep situation. The problem we're having is during daytime naps. When Rain & I got sick a few weeks ago, she started a very bad habit. A lot of kids have a "lovey"; you know, something they cuddle with during naps. Well, for whatever reason, Rain is trying to make her former nursing ground her new lovey. One night as she was coughing and hacking away, she shoved her hand down my shirt, and within a minute, fell asleep. I sort of laughed at the time, thinking it was a one-time event. The problem is, she continued to do it the entire time she was ill and afterwards. I have to pry her off me every day, and it seems like a losing battle.

Don't get me wrong: Rain is not nursing anymore. She has gone over 2.5 months without a feeding. In fact, she was excellent about giving up her life-long routine, and for months, she didn't show any signs of regression. But, she still wants to find comfort there, and I think her illness sort of triggered that neediness.

Not sure how to proceed.

Anyway, Rain has not totally reverted back to babyhood, though. She's painting with watercolors (yep, with a tried-and-true set that comes in a case with a brush; very old school), eating quite well with a fork (ok, so sometimes she has to put penne pasta on the fork with her hand and then eat it), pulling dining room chairs into position for an escape route (she uses our chairs to reach the deadbolt lock on our back door), climbing like a madwoman (she has no issues zipping to the top of our 8-ft ladder), delicately balancing her play blocks (14 stacked on her play table the other day!), and overall trying to ham it up for us.

A few days ago, I pulled out this toy that she used to be terrified of. It's a car that makes all kinds of noise once you shake it up and let it ride across the floor. Well, the more we play with it, the less she seems to be afraid. Still, she gets jittery when I pull it out and sometimes makes a face. So how funny was it when I pulled it out the other day that she tried to use it to scare me? She would run up to me, lay it at my feet, and run off laughing like, "This is gonna be great! Wait 'til you see what it does--you're gonna freak out!" She'd run 1o ft away, hide behind our coffee table, and watch for my big reaction. Of course, she doesn't understand that you have to shake the toy to activate it. So I'm sitting there like, "OK." I shook the toy, released it, and Rain laughed like, "Aren't you freaked out??" Then she'd grab the toy, run up to me, drop it at my feet, and run off again.

We did this eight times.

She laughed just as hard the eighth time as she did the first.

It's progress. Really.

Rain's First Halloween Costume

For Halloween, my monkey was a monkey (Curious George, to be exact).

May 27, 2025

Like rain in nature, Rain is both wonderful and terrible in turns. Most of the time she is a comedy gold mine and all about the hugs and kisses. Other times, she gets very, very angry. When she screams, she uses all the power in her lungs. Her body stiffens, her face turns red, she pushes out her lower jaw, and she clenches her fists. During those times, Tim & I comfort ourselves, "Seventeen more years. May 27, 2025, we'll be home free. Just gotta hang tough."

The last night we were in Florida, May 27, 2025, seemed farther away than usual. That night, Tim & I had packed, showered, confirmed our flight schedule, and were ready to go. We figured we'd watch a bit of TV, head to bed, and get up at 4:45 A.M. for our 7:55 A.M. departure. We said goodnight to Grandpa, and relaxed in the guest bedroom.

Now, Grandma/Grandpa live in a gated community of condos. At night, besides the gentle breeze in the palm trees, there is no noise. So, it wasn't long before Tim, Rain, & I fell asleep. I was happy, because we were having a great trip, Rain had behaved marvelously, and we were on our way home.

At 2:00 A.M., things went to pot.

Rain woke up crying. When she does this in the middle of the night at home, we usually cuddle her and that's that. For whatever reason, this was not happening in Florida. Rain quickly went hysterical, and nothing would soothe her. At first we were like, "Aw, sweetie, don't cry! Mommy & Daddy are here; it's gonna be OK ..." When she turned from crying to howling, we said, "That's enough, honey, settle down, please," as we rocked her and walked her around the room. When the howls morphed into outright screams, we freaked.

Grandma goes to bed at 7:00 P.M., and Grandpa falls asleep on a recliner not long after. These good people are not accustomed to hysterical toddlers. WE aren't even used to it, and we've been at it for seventeen months! I was in full panic, but the more we tried to calm Rain down, the more force she put behind her screams. Remember swaying palm trees outside? All I could think was that in very short order the neighbors were going to chop one of them down to use as a battering ram while the rest of the mob waved pink and teal pitchforks (Floridians love color).

We've got to go!" I said, and Tim nodded. We rushed outside (I didn't even bother with shoes) while Rain hollered the whole way. We didn't stay long in front of Grandpa's condo, because the acoustics of the entryway only magnified the screams. We went out the sidewalk. Still too loud. We went past the row of car ports. No good. Tim ended up taking Rain down the street by a pond where only the ducks could bemoan Rain's cries.

I came back inside, exhausted. Istared at the clock, sighed, and packed the only unfinished bag. It was an hour and a half before we had to head to the airport. I finally dozed off.

Tim eventually left the pond (once the ducks began brandishing torches), and by the time he returned to bed, Rain was fast asleep on his shoulder. Grandpa got up a few hours later to make sure we were up, too. Apparently, he hadn't heard anything. We left a few minutes later, with Rain asleep and Grandpa's perfect image of Rain still intact.

Once we pulled out of the parking lot, Rain woke up. She realized she had been moved into her car seat in the middle of the night and was furious. She started to cry, and did so the whole way to the airport.

May 27, 2025 ... is that a Friday? Never too early to plan a celebration ...

Trippin'

Last week, Tim, Rain, & I went to Florida so Rain could meet her great grandparents. Tim took the entire week off, but we chose to go to FL for only three days. The truth is, Rain is almost a year and a half, so I had to ask myself, "How long can two decent elderly folk deal with a teething toddler?" I know Rain's great grandparents probably wished we had stayed a bit longer, but I had no idea how Rain would behave. It was just too risky. Would she cry over seeing strangers? Would she scream on the plane? Would she tear Grandma & Grandpa's condo apart?

Prior to our departure, the endless opportunities for certain disaster occupied my thoughts. Mixed with other issues on my mind, it was too much. One morning I woke up and informed Tim my right eye was hurting. For no reason at all, the muscles around my eye felt strained and bruised. I would love to tell you that later I found out my eye ache was medical (pinkeye, anyone?), but when my eye later healed after one trip to a Florida beach, well, I knew the injury had been stress-related.

At the time, all I could imagine were the many ways Rain would lose control. Then her great grandparents would see what a terrible job we were doing raising her, and the jig would be up. I felt in my bones they would ask us to leave early or perhaps stay in a hotel, and oh the shame!

Even after Rain behaved well on the plane ride to Florida, my hopes were still modest. The flight was an early one, so Rain was only half-awake for it, anyway. Later at lunch, she showed her great grandma how well she could use a fork and how she was certainly not a picky eater, but I still wouldn't allow myself to believe things might work out. When presents and treats piled around Rain, did she throw them against the wall or horde them? Nope. She showed interest in each and played quietly. Her manners were spot on, and she didn't hide from the new faces at all.
She was good, really good. The one time she had a meltdown, she had it when only the three of us were together at a zoo, so who cares? By the time we packed for our trip home), I thought, "I can't believe we made it--an entire trip without incident!"

Then three hours before our departure ...

The Cow

A few weeks ago, Tim went to Wisconsin for a week of training. My instructions to him were simple: don't come back without cheese.

With Wisconsin's reputation for tasty cheese, I don't think I asked for too much. Either come back with cheese, or don't come back at all, right?

Tim is wonderful in many ways, specifically, he is generous, helpful, humble, kind, supportive, patient (boy, is he patient), and very, very smart--he's fabulous, and anybody who knows him would agree, I think. But one thing Tim is not is a realistic shopper.

Especially when we are on vacation, he always thinks there's time later to pick up gifts or souvenirs. At the last minute, he will try to buy whatever the airport shops are selling. This often leads to, um, less than desirable gifts.

Although I only do it in front of Tim, I do an impersonation of Tim's brain. Really. I do this sort of calm, low voice (a mix of Homer & Forrest Gump) that imitates what I believe is Tim's thought process when he makes poor decisions. This may sound mean, but I promise you, Tim laughs whenever I do it and says, "That's exactly what I was thinking!" Unfortunately, you can't hear audio on this, but imagine for a moment as we step into Tim's mind moments before boarding the plane home from Wisconsin:

Got my photo mag, got my computer mag, got my boarding pass. Ready to go ... Wait ... Wait a minute ... Didn't that woman say something to me about cheese? Aw, man, I ain't got no cheese! She's gonna be so mad. She's gonna be so maaad--wait! There's a shop right there! They gotta have cheese. [Desperately searches 2-3 shops for cheese samples]. Man. No cheese. OK, but I can't go back with nothin'. Chocolate! I'm bringing home chocolate. Everybody likes chocolate. Is Wisconsin known for chocolate? Hope so. Cheese & chocolate both start with C. What if she hates it? I gotta bring something else along. Oh, here it is. This will work. It's kind of cute. Yep, this will do.

Tim brought home a cow magnet that said "Wisconsin" on it. A cow magnet. Rain promptly ripped the magnet off it, tore off the bell around it's neck, and tossed the cow away.

She beat Mommy to the punch.

North Korea

At night, it is easier to sneak out of North Korea than Rain's room. For the first year of her life, she slept in the same room with us, and she has no intention of changing that. Let's not forget that Rain, who had no teeth four months ago, now has SEVEN (with several more pushing through her inflamed gums). She is teething and irritated. So, putting her to bed is a two-step affair.

First, we have to get her in her crib. This is an entirely different process for me than it is for Tim. Tim will cuddle Rain for a few minutes, put her in her crib, and walk out of the room. If Rain cries, tough cookies, because he's not coming back for her. Rain knows this, so she usually cries for less than 1 minute, resigns herself to her fate, and falls asleep. This is why Tim puts Rain to bed 90% of the time.

On the few nights where I have to put Rain to bed, it is pathetic. I don't have the heart to hear her cry, so I usually lay her in her crib and (*blush*) sit next to it while she falls asleep. Even if Rain's eyes are closed for a full minute, if I attempt to leave the room, she knows. At the slightest sound of my departure, her eyelids snap open, and her pupils beam on my coordinates. Tim has oiled the hinges on her bedroom door, but that is of limited help. Most nights, I don't make it to the door before she's on to me. Tim thinks I'm ridiculous to let her be so needy with me. He's totally right, so I've tried to be more like him when it comes to Rain's bedtime. Rain is furious when I do that, and she cries a lot longer after I've put her in her room than when Tim does it.

The second phase happens around 3 or 4 AM. Every night at this time, Rain cries to come to bed with us. Before, we caved pretty easily about this because who wants to deal with that drama at that hour, ya know? But for a week or so, Tim and I tried to commit to putting her back into her crib at night. We kind of had a routine going, but then Rain got sick. Last week, she had a stomach virus sort of thing and cried a lot at night. So, back we were to our old routine.

Since Rain has seemed to be a lot better for the last day or so, I thought it was time to get her back to staying in the crib all night. Welp, I was a bit surprised than to find Tim fiddling with Rain's crib today. Apparently, he felt she was too big for her crib (Rain's is a convertible one), so he converted it to a toddler bed. Basically, he removed one side of her regular crib and put in a low bed rail. The bed rail is only high enough to keep Rain from falling out of bed, but it only fits half of the bed so that Rain can get in and out easily.

Hmm, I thought, surveying the situation. Doesn't that mean Rain will be able to leave the bed herself at night? Sure enough, at 3 AM this morning, I woke up to Rain's crying. I automatically went to her room. The door was shut, and in a bit of humor, Rain was knocking on her door for me to let her out. I opened the door, and like a true soldier, tried to put her back to bed. She was fine about it--as long as I didn't try to leave. After another North Korea escape ten minutes later, I was back in bed trying to get some sleep. I had left Rain's door open this time, figuring she probably wouldn't be up until 7 AM, her usual breakfast time.

Five minutes later, we both wake up to Rain's crying. This time, however, she sounds much nearer than before. Tim got up, and a minute later, returned with a sad package. He had found Rain inching her way down the hall while holding ... her oversized stuffed lamb that she sleeps with every night since she was born. The two had tried to make it to our bedroom while Rain wailed the whole way.

It was too much for us.

Rain is asleep with Tim right now, and as for me? I'm heading to the couch, where all bad defectors go.

Kisses

Don't get me wrong. Rainzilla strikes every day. Today, for instance, she quietly pushed her stroller to the edge of the garage, gave it a shove, and watched it race down our steep driveway into the street. As it rolled to certain doom, she growled with glee and stomped her feet.

But, there are also times when Rain surprises me in a good way, too. About two weeks ago, I was resting on my bed. Rain was playing beside me while I hoped she'd take a nap. For no reason, she stopped playing and crawled next to my face. Then, quite seriously, she kissed me full on the lips.

Now, as close as my family is, we don't do that. My brothers and sisters hug a lot and are always saying, "I love you." But, we don't kiss on the lips. Sure, we kiss our mama on the cheek, but that's it.

After Rain kissed me, she stared intently at me for a reaction. I was stunned. I had no idea she would do that. Frankly, I was perplexed, so ... I laughed. I felt bad for a second, because I wasn't sure if that was the reaction she wanted. But, when Rain saw I was laughing, she kissed me again. This time she SMOTHERED me. I couldn't breathe (plus, I was laughing hard), so I begged Tim to peel her off me.

Since then, she's kissed me several times as she giggles and hugs me. The funniest part is each time she does it, she approaches me slowly and seriously, then it's all laughs. So, even though Rainzilla shows up every day growling and stomping ... Rainbow isn't far behind.

Rainzilla & The Saint

Above, Rain is wearing a "My Name is Not No!No!" shirt. She is sitting next to Buddha--er--I mean Madison. Madi is so very, very low-key that, well, it only makes Rain seem even more high maintenance.
Today Rain & I went for walk with her stroller. No, Rain didn't go for a walk in her stroller, she went for a walk with her stroller. She insisted on pushing the stroller herself the entire time. She has a Jeep stroller, which is really cool, but a bit on the heavy side. If I tried to guide the stroller, she'd scream. So, there we were walking down the street, and Rain is huffing and puffing to keep the stroller going. But, she keeps veering to the right, so we are hitting the curb over and over again (and cars, too, but don't tell the neighbors). She fell on her knees and scraped them no less than four times. Each time she'd screech for just a second, and she'd get back up all tra-la-la everything's daisy. "What's that?" she'd say conversationally."Oh, wow!"
"Honey, let Mommy help you," I said, and tried to guide the stroller. Every time she started crying.
SO STUBBORN!
My niece calls Rain, "Rainzilla." I'd ask her to be more polite, but if the shoe fits ...
The unsung hero in all this is Tim. Tim is the most patient man I know, and for his actions this morning, I will now sing his praises.
Last night, we went to bed at 11:00. Rain seemed fine and her crib, and I fell asleep quickly watching Planet Earth on the Discovery Channel (weird dreams about otters to follow).
5:00 A.M.
At 5:00 in the Ahhh Morning, Rain decided bedtime was over. She wailed for one hour. For one hour, Tim & I tried to soothe her with medicine, ice, food--nothing worked. We were sure it was her teeth again, but nothing would calm her down. I was falling asleep trying to get Rain to quit crying. Tim, who had to go to work this morning, said, "I'll walk her around." He took her out of the bedroom, and I assumed they would fall asleep on the couch together as they do on rough nights. Not long after, Rain stopped crying, and I fell asleep.
I woke up a bit before 8:00. Turned out, Rain never went to sleep. She just just stopped crying. Tim had decided to start his morning (make coffee, eat breakfast, water the lawn, and the like) since Rain wouldn't go to sleep.
Are you kidding? I was so upset with Rain, who by the way, seemed more than happy to have Daddy as her playmate for an extra 3 hours this morning. I also felt terrible that Tim had taken it upon himself to keep Rain happy.
The minute Tim left for work (tired, I'm sure), I looked at Rain and said, "You're going to bed."
Rainzilla did her best to get me to let her watch The Wiggles, but I wasn't having it. I put her in a bear hold, and she eventually went to sleep (or passed out, not sure).
You know, my friend just had a baby last week. I visited them at the hospital, and there the little girl was, so cute and small. The parents were very happy and proud, of course. It made me wonder about the possibility of having another kid. But even as I held that sweet little baby in my arms, I recalled Jeff Foxworthy's warning:
Godzilla used to be a little lizard, too.

Where Have I Been?

I know, I know, I was AWOL. Please, allow me to explain.

This past Saturday, a very kind lady from our church threw a housewarming party for me & Tim. It is the first of two parties. Why two? To be honest ... the situation is delicate. We originally thought we'd have one open house/housewarming for all of our friends, family, and church. But, the day after the hostess gave us extra invitations to pass out to friends (she'd already given invites to our church members), she received some very bad family news (the kind that makes the mouth drop open). So, there Tim and I were, completely unsure of how to handle things. Should we urge her to cancel the whole thing? Postpone it? In the end, we decided not to burden this nice lady with more stress. We decided we'd go through with the open house, and have a second smaller thing later on. The whole situation, especially the fact that our house was entirely unrepresentable for 1 party, let alone 2, had me ruffled.

Our house, since we've moved in, has looked like a garage sale. Everything is mixed up, and boxes are half-opened. In the weeks leading up to Saturday's party, when anybody asked how things were coming along, I smiled and said, "We're getting there." Thing is, I didn't tell them that "there" was "buried alive." To see chaos in every room was extracting my inner Martha.

"Shelves! Shelves! We need more shelves!" I'd cry, but no matter how many Home Depot & IKEA trips we made, it was never enough.

Around this time, a funny thing began to happen. My hands, randomly throughout the day, would get that "pins and needles" feeling. At first, I thought I was having a case of carpal tunnel. I mean, I had been painting rooms, assembling furniture, cleaning--my paws were worn out. But then, the tingling feeling started happening more and more and for longer periods of time. In fact, I woke up one night with both arms in painful tingles.

Tim, observing me as I reorganized books, removed the dry cleaning from the metal hangers they come on to regular ones, and ate dinner in front of the computer just so I could finish editing a newsletter, said, "You have, like, OCD. Why don't you take a break?"

But, how was the laundry going to get done? Or dinner? Or the thank you cards we owe a few people? Did anyone order tickets yet for our Florida trip? Has anybody seen Rain??

During this whole time, Rain had been irritated with me. She wanted to play, read books, go outside--all the things we did at our apartment--and I was over there organizing color swatches so we could paint the home office.

All the while, my body has been showing warning signs. When my back would give out, I would tell Tim, "Honey, just hand me something I can work on while I'm sitting," instead of taking a break.

The thing is, I can't stop myself. It's not Tim, and it's not Rain. If I'm not doing two or three things at a time, I feel like I'm not getting anything done. Maybe I have ADD or something.

Anyway, so how did Saturday's party go?

Fine, of course. It went fine. That's the thing: during the party I was thinking, "Why did I make such a big deal about this?" Everyone I know is nice, so of course, they were nothing but polite about the house. Why was I working like Simon Cowell was coming to rate my place?

This week, Tim will be out of town for work. His final instructions to me were, "I want you to do something for me while I'm gone: do not work on the house. Go do something fun. Take a break. I want this place to look the same when I get back, OK?"

That's sad. When someone has to tell you to take a break, things have gotten out of hand. So, here I am. What should I do first? Order something off of Amazon?

Of course. But I'll have to read email, flip through a People magazine, and listen to the This American Life podcast at the same time, too. Sorry. Rome wasn't built in a day.

Hardcore

Rain is hardcore.

And not because when she got 2 shots last Friday, she didn't cry.

And not because she shook off the fact that she scratched her face with a DVD case; slipped and slammed her face into a door; and didn't throw a fit when her two new teeth cut through her gums--and that was all in one day.

Rain is hardcore because although I was sure she would never forgive me or do anything but rage while we tried to wean her, she has proved herself to be made of tougher stuff.

Since last Friday when we started this whole thing, we've both had our moments, to be sure. The first few mornings were hard. Rain cried Sunday morning from 4:30 onwards and woke up every 30 minutes while Tim carried her and tried to calm her (I was sequestered in another room). The next morning, bleary-eyed, he asked, "So, did you hear her at all last night?"

"Are you kidding? I was staring up at the ceiling all night. My chest, back, and side were hurting, and listening to her cry was the worst," I said.
But besides a few times where she almost fell off the wagon, she's been fantastic. Today is Day 9, and she's sort of just accepted that things have changed.

I have mixed feelings about breastfeeding, as I've said from the beginning. I know there are moms-to-be out there who want to know how things really go down with breastfeeding after you bring that kiddo home from the hospital. You're going to find out anyway, right? So, here's the deal, naked but true:

The Bad News

1. Breastfeeding may be ease-as-cheese for some new moms to learn, especially if their moms were all tree-huggin' woodsy nude colonist hippie types who were all exposed to breastfeeding as children, but it was HARD for me to learn. My mom came from the formula generation, and breastfeeding just seemed to risky to her (what if the baby doesn't get enough milk?). I had no instincts about it, and it took me months (three or four) to feel entirely confident about it. The first month was torture, as I endured much pain/embarrassment trying to get a decent technique going.

2. Shameless. After delivering a baby while naked in a room full of strangers, you'd think I'd have no shame left to speak of. Whatever shriveled bit of pride managed to crawl out of the delivery room was strangled during my first months of breastfeeding. Rain was hungry all the time, and that meant I had to be ready to feed her whenever and wherever we were. In the middle of dinner, at a movie, in a store--wherever we were, I had to find a semi-private, clean space to feed her. The added stress of avoiding attention only made nursing more difficult and uncomfortable.

3. Besides plumbers, only new moms know the evils of leaking. Breast pads are helpful, but it's only a matter of time before you forget an "accident" happens. An accident?? That's for, like, kindergarten when you wet your pants!

The Good News

1. Initially, breastfeeding helped me lose weight. Now, it's all gotta come from hard work (sigh).

2. This is the straight up truth: for the first year of Rain's life, she was never, ever sick. Not even once. Yeah, she got feverish when she teethed, but she never had earaches, stomach troubles, skin issues--nothing. Obviously, Rain was able to stay healthy in part because she wasn't exposed to daycare germs, but I know my antibodies had something to do with it, too. She was around a lot of people all of the time and managed to avoid illness. True story.

3. Ok, once you get the hang of nursing it is convenient. And the sooner you get over the shyness of feeding your kiddo in a public setting, the happier you'll be. Honestly, I'm ashamed to admit, I was always sort of disgusted by breastfeeding when I was single. I just didn't get it. But once I got used to it, I was like, "Who cares? I'm not showing any part of my body in public, so really, who cares what I'm doing?" I got so good at it, in fact, and I'm so not joking here, I could do it while having a conversation with someone (as we strolled along) who had no idea what was going on. I could hold Rain just right with a strategically placed blanket that people thought Rain was just sleeping. Um, no. It was a necessity, I'm telling you. If I had gone into a locked room every time Rain had to nurse, I would never have gotten anything done.

4. And finally, the best reason for nursing Rain was this: I don't know if Rain will ever be as safe and happy as she was when I held her. I used to tell Tim, "You know, she looks at me for a few minutes, closes her eyes, and as she goes to sleep I just know. I know she's safe, and I'm at that moment providing everything for her." It was so weird but very calming. Like most babies, Rain would fall asleep nursing, and watching her breathe, peaceful and perfect, I felt very ... whole.

Wow

Ok, not many things make me feel overwhelmed and all excited and inspired, but here it is:

Today, I went to the ol' post office box, and not only were there Pokey Notes waiting for Raeleigh but donations, too. YOU GUYS ROCK.

Seriously, thank you, thank you, thank you.

For those who haven't had a chance to visit the site (racetoraeleigh.com) or have been on the fence about it, please, please take the time to send a Pokey Note or donation. 100% of donations will go to Raeleigh. Those of you who have had to deal with long-term illness in your families know how difficult and expensive medical treatment is to take and endure.

Thanks, again--woo-hoo!

Queen Bee

We are in the process of weaning Rain (oh you know there's gonna be a blog about that later), so this is not the time to be teaching her new rules or correcting her. She's teething (3 coming in on the top) as well, so she's in no mood for shenanigans. Basically, for the past week I've been letting her eat whatever she wants with abandon ("Those round salty things, honey? Those are called 'chips.' Good, huh?").

Yesterday, there was 1 chocolate pudding snack left, so I pulled out 2 spoons: 1 regular spoon and one plastic baby spoon. We always share because Rain never eats a whole container by herself.

I put Rain in her high chair, and I filled up her baby spoon. Rain is pretty good with her spoons, so she took it from me and fed herself. I dipped her spoon again, and again, she took it from me and fed herself. After she got the pattern, I took my spoon and took a bite. I put it down, picked up her spoon, and handed it to her. We did this for a minute, taking turns eating, as Rain eyed the situation.

Finally, she smiled very sweetly and put her spoon down. She looked at me, and very gently took away my spoon, and gave me the baby spoon to use.

"Rain, that's Mommy's spoon," I said. She continued eating, and I was all, "What are you, queen bee now, too, like Mommy??"

Pah!

If we're both queen bees, I can just hear Tim: "What am I, then?! A worker, a drone?"


*Awkward silence*

The Natives are Restless

You want sex ed for teens? I got it right here:

Kids kill.

Toddlers are out to kill themselves and you, and is that what you'd rather be dealing with instead of picking a dress for prom? Go back to your texting!

Five minutes ago, in all seriousness, this is what Rain and me were doing:

Rain was flat on her stomach. I was on top of her, on all fours, shoving my finger in her mouth. She, in turn, was slapping her arms around and jerking her head side to side, so I couldn't fish out the Styrofoam peanuts she was eating. Do you think me saying, "But you almost swallowed a shirt pin this morning!!" did any good?

I wriggled out half a peanut, and Rain took off for the kitchen. She's mad I've got half her meal, so she immediately pulls out a kitchen chair and climbs on top. We have told her many, many, many and more times not to climb on the table.

I quickly removed her from the chair, put it back in its place, and reminded her that, no, we don't climb chairs on my watch.

Rain, in probably the funniest thing I've seen her do lately, raced around the table, and in one swift move, threw back a chair, jumped on it like she was sliding into home base, and gripped the chair like, "Bring it, Mom!"

It was so fast and perfectly performed that I turned my face to the ceiling, and while silently laughing said, "Rain! Hehehe ... We don't climb chairs, I told you! hehehe ... Stop and get off ..."

Sigh. I'm just not fit for this job.

In closing, I'll part with the words my four-year-old niece said. When asked, "What do toddlers do?"

She answered right away. "Destroy things!"

Feeling Like a Wean-er

In 4 hours, at 5:30 A.M., Rain will have gone two days without nursing.

We've decided to wean her, and I feel--what's the word?--oh yeah, nauseous.

They forgot to mention the whole weaning part in the breastfeeding class I took before Rain was born.

If I had any sense back then, I would've asked my instructor this very basic, almost obvious question: how will a child react when you take away the most comforting thing she knows which you have trained her to use since the day she was born?

If I had given it any thought, I would've realized right away that the child will either try to kill herself or make me want to kill myself.

For almost 48 hours, I've had little contact with Rain. Oh, we've been in the same room most of the time, but my sister-in-law (brave soul), my sister, and Tim have all entertained Rain and distracted her to keep her from focusing on the sinister truth: her nursing days are over.

Rain's been absolutely awesome about things for the most part. She's accepted all the constant attention and not made too much of a deal of being passed around. For a few minutes today, though, things almost went to pot. We were playing in her room, and she accidentally fell against my chest. The lights in her eyes flicked on like, "Hey ... wait a minute! Those are mine!"

She started clawing at my shirt, frantic, as if she knew what game we had all been playing at for the past two days. She was a screamin' and cryin', so what did we do?

What all modern parents do, of course: PACIFY. We threw her into a bathing suit and off she went to her new baby pool in the backyard. She quickly forgot about Mommy, but with another 24 hours to go to get 3 days of weaning completed, Mommy sure didn't forget about her.

Compassion (final note)

One last thing. Today, I ate lunch with my sister in her home with her 2 kids. The youngest is Madi (pictured above), who as I've mentioned before, has unfortunately taken a beating from Rain now and then.

Anyway, my sister served everyone a plate. Madi (who is about 7 0r 8 months old) had already eaten, so she was sitting in her little Bumbo seat on the floor. After everyone started to eat, it was clear Madi wasn't too happy about missing out on an extra meal. So, Rain scooped up some corn in her own baby spoon, walked across the room, and put the spoon in Madi's mouth. Not only was it pretty cute to see, but Rain didn't realize that because she was carrying the spoon like a toddler (it was flopping around all over the place), by the time she got to Madi, it was empty.

She kept going back and forth bringing an empty spoon to Madi. Poor Madi! That kid has thighs like turkey legs from the state fair--so chubby and cute--so she had this look on her face like, "Where's the food, Fool?" Then Rain picked up Madi's sippy cup and tried to let her drink. Sure, her aim was all wrong and again Madi was tortured, but Rain's finally learning some compassion!

Compassion

I've never heard of a decent parent who had to sit down with her kid and say, "Son, have I ever told you about love? Well, love means ..." Kids figure it out on their own, you know? As long as they see it, they sort of make their own definitions of what love is and isn't.

Same goes for compassion. Before Rain was born, I thought a while a bout how to teach her to be compassionate. I'll have to show her, I figured, but how? When?

I talked to Tim about it (who, by the way, is compassionate by nature ... the rest of us have to work at it), and he agreed that we'd have to show hospitality, generosity, and concern often, especially in our home, to teach Rain.

Maybe our plan was a good one, but it certainly wasn't thorough. I figured Rain would start noticing things later on, and we'd just have to wait to see if any of our modeling "took." But children are far more clever than that.

Yesterday, Rain found her doll which I had packed away. Rain has only one doll, and it was given to her by a friend of ours. She said it was her doll as a child (she's a teen now), but that it looked so much like Rain, she had to give it to her. Well, yesterday the doll came out of the box it was packed in. Prior to yesterday, Rain had hardly paid the doll any attention. She played with if for a few minutes when she first received it, but that was about it.

Well, Rain picked up the doll and carried it--gently, mind you--to the guest bedroom. She put it on the bed, climbed on top as well, and sat next to it. There was a toy piano there, and Rain played, as if trying to entertain the doll. Afterwards, she carried it into her bedroom. Since then, Rain has carried, cuddled, and loved on the doll the way we have done to her many, many times.

Kids know. They are constantly watching and learning long before we're aware, and long after we've noticed. It's freaky.

As a final tidbit, the other day, my sister-in-law graciously offered to watch Rain all day (from 9 to 6--and she has a 3-year-old son and a daughter a month older than Rain, for crying out loud), so I could finish painting Rain's room. Tim picked Rain up, and afterwards gave me a full account of how she did.

The good news was Rain had behaved fantastically. She ate well, played well, and napped well. Awesome.

There was only one bit of interesting news to report. Around 4:00, when she normally takes her nap, Rain walked to the front door. She just stood there, staring at the door. She began to whimper, probably wondering where I was and who would put her down for a nap.

Well, her cousin Celeste walked up to Rain, patted her head, and sang, "Roo, roo, roo," which is the chant her mother cuddles her with when she's sad. They held each other for a bit, and Rain settled down.

Who's teaching who, I wonder.

Later, Mom

Sometimes, Rain surprises me. Ok, she surprises me a lot, but I mean in a good way, too. During the past week, I've unpacked a lot of Rain's toys. She hasn't seen them in months, so I was curious to see if she'd recognize them. Most of them she did, but that wasn't the fun part.

Toys that she couldn't figure out how to use before, she picked up and tah-dah! She put 'em together and took 'em apart like, "This is so ... infantile." She's right: she's a toddler now and needs something more than stacking rings. She even sat on top of her elephant rocking toy and started riding it like a BMX bike. Previously, she never sat on it for longer than a minute, and I had to have both hands on her.

Yesterday was the most surprising.

See, Rain was born on a Sunday. And the very next Sunday, we took her to church to show her off (c'mon, I'd been working on her for 9 months, better believe I showed her off). Since then, we've taken her every week. For the first few months, she just slept or cried during church. Then she took a liking to the preacher, and for a few more months, she did her best to sit up and get his attention. Once she learned to crawl, the game was up. I practically had to manhandle Rain to keep her from crawling under the pews. Three weeks ago, she learned how to hop over them.

Then a funny thing happened. Two weeks ago, my nephew and niece started to go to Bible class together. Rain stayed with me every week, and I didn't even realize she noticed that her cousins were off doing something different than she was.

Yesterday, we went to church, and before things got rolling, I was searching the floors for a shoe Rain had lost (by "lost," I mean purposefully removed and hid). I got distracted, and after a minute, I ran into Tim. I said, "Rain's not with you?" So, we did the parenting hustle, but couldn't find her in the auditorium where she normally plays.

We found her ... in the preschool classroom. The teacher said Rain walked in and sat next to her cousins. The teacher was a bit puzzled, but gave Rain a coloring sheet anyway. Rain colored quietly, and that's what she was doing when I found her. I said hello to her from the door, though I didn't go in. Rain stayed in her seat. Don't ya know, that kiddo stayed in class the entire time? The teacher said she never cried or tried to leave or anything. The kids in class said Rain loved the singing part and danced herself silly.

When class ended, I met Rain at the door. She acknowledged me with a hug to my legs, but that was it. She ran down the hall to play with her cousins.

And, don't laugh, but, well, I was standing there, and I sort of felt a little tug at the marble heart. She's a growin', and doesn't need me to be there for every single thing. It's totally cool.

...

I'm fine, no really, just have dust in my eyes, must be allergies ...

Better Days

After Rain's meltdown yesterday, it's hard to feel like better days are ahead. But, after only a few hours, she was back to normal. So, I made her & Syrene their first s'mores. It was a sort of peace offering, in the hopes we could move on. Rain, as expected, loved it (see above), and I was glad just to be on good terms again.

Later that night, we went to church. Rain was playing on a pew, slipped a bit, and bumped her head on the pew back. I thought, "Here it comes. The scream fest is about to start all over again," because Rain never misses an invitation to a pity party. My mom saw her hit her head, too, and we both watched her for the dreaded response.

Rain bent over, touched her hand to her head, and said, "Ow."

That was it. Now that's somethin' to keep a soul peaceful.

Boxing Day: Not Just for Canadians

There's no reason why anyone should stay in an abusive relationship. If you're in an abusive relationship, you don't "have" to stay.

Unless the abuser is your kid.

Then you stay. It's the law.

Round 1

Yesterday, Rain beat me up. I'm not proud I got smacked down by a toddler, but there it is. I was holding her on my hip as I took away some contraband she had in her hand. I seriously can't remember if it was a rock, pencil, or stolen iPod because in a moment, as you'll see, she knocked me senseless. Anyway, when I pulled the object away--whatever it was--she started flapping about. She jerked her body backwards (the typical toddler arched back) in disapproval. This wouldn't have been a problem, except when she came back towards me, she knocked her head into my cheek and eye. Her skull got me right on my cheek bone and eye.

It hurt. Real bad like. I had to kneel to avoid dropping Rain on the floor. Her forehead was red, but was she crying? Nope.

First of all, Rain's head is ROCK solid. (FYI: regardless of what our parents claimed, there's almost no way kids will ever "crack their heads open." Trust me, Rain's tried).

Second, Rain was too busy staring at me. She was fascinated by my pain/anger.

There I was trying to keep her safe, and she had hit me! Ok, sure, it was probably an accident, but if she hadn't thrown a fit, she wouldn't have slammed her head into my eye. My eye!

I was holding the side of my face, and giving her a "See what you did??" look. She knew I was hurtin', and that she had done something very wrong. She walked away at first like, "Don't care 'cause I'm mad at you." Still sitting on the floor, I turned my back to her. I wanted her to know she'd caused me pain. When I peeked, I saw Rain had grabbed hold of a foot ladder I had been using to paint a shelf. I guess she figured, "You're going to turn your back on me? Well, then, I'll climb this ladder you're always taking away!"

I kept my back turned as I rubbed my face. Finally, Rain came toddling over. For a few moments, she sat next to me. She was kind of sympathizing and seemed a tad remorseful. After five seconds of humanity, she realized she was a toddler with short-term memory loss, and was all, "Hey, is that your laptop open over there?" The glowing screen was too much for her. She was up and out in a second, assumably to beat my laptop.

Round 2

I've been told by my sister that when Rain gets mad at her older cousin Syrene (who is almost 5)--you know, when they fight over toys and the like--that Rain takes it out on Syrene's little sister Madi. This has happened about 3 or 4 times, but I've never seen it myself.

Until today.

Today Rain and Syrene were playing together (my sister was out on an errand). Most of the time, they have a lot of fun together. Eventually and inescapably, they'll decide that there's only one cool toy in the room, and they must both play with it at the same time. At this point, I usually check my pockets for what kind of parental phrases I might have handy.

"Why don't we take turns?" Check.
"Toys are meant to be shared." Check.
"If you don't learn to share, no one will want to play with you." Check.

I was bouncing Madi on my leg when Syrene decided to hit Rain to get a toy. Before I could intervene, Rain hit Syrene back. I was a bit surprised (mind you, Tim & I never hit each other & Rain isn't allowed to watch TV, so I was a bit, "Where did you learn that from?"), but still, I was determined to end the madness.

Well, now arms were flying, and somehow Rain seemed to get that she was in no way going to whip up on an almost-five-year-old. So, she turned around and SMACKED Madison on the head. I'm thinking:

1. How does Rain know that hurting Madison is like hurting Syrene? Isn't that a little too clever? In a sinister sort of way?

2. Stop!

At this point, I switched right into intinct mode. Forget the parenting books. War manuals do you no good when you're in the trenches. I was so instinctively mad at Rain for hitting an infant that I took her hand, and said, "NO!" with Death in my voice.

Rain quickly raised her hand again and hit Madison. I grabbed Rain's hand, and with all the sadness building up in me, I smacked her hand and said, "I SAID 'NO'."

We stared at each other for a moment. Rain was shocked (I've never hit her before), and I was mad. More than that, I was so, so, so very sad that I had to put the smack down on Rain. But I promised myself a long time before Rain was born, that no matter what, if I have to chose between being her therapist-friend or parent, I was going to have to suck it up and be a mom.

I should've just stayed mad.

The minute Rain saw that change in my eyes--from anger to sadness--my advantage was over. She got all huffy, walked off, flung herself on the carpet, and gave me a sassy look.

"Don't hit Madison," I told her again, trying to sound firm.

If you've ever seen a Wallace & Gromit flick--the clay animation stuff--then you know how expressive eyes can be. Gromit doesn't talk; it's all in the eyes. Anyway, if you've seen Gromit in action, then you know what it's like to deal with a toddler. They search your eyes for all kinds of information and offer the same in return.

Well, I could tell from Rain's eyes that she knew I was defending Madi. She huffed for half a minute longer, then begged to be carried.

Neither of us raised a white flag, to be sure, but we did opt for a truce.

Monkey & (Wo)Man

Monkey

Sometimes I wonder how a child ever grows up to be an adult. A creature whose life policy is to identify items by eating them first would seem to have little chance of surviving. In the last week, Rain has:

1. Eaten petroleum jelly

2. Chewed 6 cents in change, a screw, and plastic wiring (she did, however, turn down vanilla yogurt)

3. Climbed a large roll of bubble wrap, a free-standing utility shelf, and a stack of bricks

I have a rock collection on the kitchen counter from all the contraband I've confiscated from Rain's cheeks and hands. Thank goodness she doesn't have pockets.

(Wo)Man

Just when I think, "Wow, my kid has absolutely no life skills," Rain will work some magic. In the last two weeks, she has:

1. Done some Moonwalking. She smiled at me, and on her first try, walked smoothly backwards halfway across the room like, "Who knew this thing went in reverse??"

2. Tried to sing. The other night we were at church, and loud enough for everyone to hear, she started to kinda sing. She held out some notes throughout an entire verse of a song and was so proud of herself. While I'm on the subject of music, let me just say this: Rain will have so much more rhythm than her parents. When I turn on the radio, she doesn't dance or bob her head until the right song comes on. And when she does bob her head, it's not toddler-like (awkward jerking or whatnot). She does it too cool like, "Yeah, man, keep that beat going. Why don't you lay that track over some Veggie Tales and make me a remix?" The first time I saw her jam like that I laughed and laughed because she looked like a teenager. Then I remembered that some day she'd actually be a teenager. Party over.

3. Shown a little love. I've been painting/cleaning our new house all week. Sometimes I want to pass out on the floor from the work (and the fumes). I was taping down a door the other day, when Rain walked up to me. After observing a minute, she picked up a piece of tape and stuck it gently on the window. She looked at me to verify that this was a good place and, well, it was a little sweet. When I cleaned the windows later, guess who had a paper towel to help Mommy? If only Tim was so enthusiastic ...

4. Fine-tuned her lunch etiquette. I handed Rain her lunch yesterday, and I got a precious, "Tank Yoo." Today she tried to poor her own drink. It was a disaster but a decent try.

I guess what I'm saying is, in the battle of Baby vs. Beast, Baby is in the lead overall.

For now.

Belly Button

Today, Rain found her belly button. She stared at the little hole, poked at it, stared at it some more, and probably realizing it was permanent, looked up sadly at me and said,

"Oh no."

Don't worry, little Rainbow, there are far more cosmetically frightening things in the world:
http://www.amazon.com/Beautiful-Mommy-Michael-Alexander-Salzhauer/dp/1601310323/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1218577348&sr=8-1

Tank Yooo

Thanks to those of you who've taken the time to visit racetoraeleigh.com; I'll post updates as we go along. Thanks again!

In other news ...

Since birth, Rain has communicated largely by grunting approval/disapproval and crying. My niece, who is about 8 months old, has made all kinds of babbles since she was born. Rain was never like that. Her baby book had a place every month to update "New Words I Learned," and I felt like writing, "See previous month." How many variations of "Ahhhh" could there be?

Then came the slow interest in verbiage. Rain started with "Da-ee" ("Daddy") and "Ma!" A few weeks ago she added things like "Oh!" and "Oh, wow!" To hear her make words was surprising and weird. Then about two weeks ago, Rain didn't seem satisfied with the basics anymore. She looked as if she was concentrating on the sounds coming out of my mouth. She would point to a light, and I would say, "Light." Even though she would answer, "Ga," every time she saw a light she would say, "Ga." I was happy that at the very least she was consistent.

Then 3 days ago, it happened. This is exactly the way it went down:

Rain fell asleep in her crib at 9:00. At 4 A.M., she started crying in her bedroom. Tim brought her to me, and I fell asleep holding her. At 7:00 (her usual wake-up time), Rain sat up in bed. We opened our eyes and stared at her. She pointed to the bed and said very clearly, "What is it?"

Tim and I stared at each other. Very slowly, Tim said, "Um, a blanket?"

Rain considered this for a second and said, "Oh."

Is this the way it happens?? She goes to sleep at 9:00, and somehow 10 hours later she speaks English? This was no fluke, either. Since then, Rain has pointed to things over and over to ask, "What is it?" or "What's that?" She's clearly delighted that we're communicating on some level.

The same day, "What is it?" appeared, Rain and I were playing with blocks in her room. As usual, I handed her blocks as I said, "Thank you" and "You're welcome." After a minute, she handed me a block, and as sweetly as possible, said, "Tank yooo."

My kid just used a polite phrase? Tissue, please.

Life in Italy

On Saturday, my mom was kind enough to watch Rain for me while I finished painting Rain's bedroom window. Several hours later, I returned to pick my kiddo up. I stepped into my mom's hallway and Rain stood there with her back towards me. She was babbling to my mom, and then she turned around and saw me. She smiled and ran towards me with her arms open.

In the past year, there were times when I thought I was the worst mom ever. I wasn't cut out for parenting, and why, oh why, did Rain have to scream about everything? But, there she was, running with her arms open, and I thought, "Wow, we're not perfect, but we still love each other!" I mean, how many times in my life is someone going to be so happy to see me that (s)he comes running at me with arms open? The only person who has ever run at me with so much enthusiasm before is my ma's shih tzu. Go figure.

We love each other, and with all the insanity that plagues our house daily, we keep afloat. But there are new parents out there, just like me, who are dealing with a lot more than just tantrums and diapers. As the writer in my previous blog entry so eloquently described, these parents are learning to love Holland when they had planned on a trip to Italy.

Before Rain was born, I pondered the terrible what if. What if she was sick or had a disability? What if I couldn't help her with it? Will I have what it takes to be her mom? I tried not to think on these things too long, because the answers were very, very frightening. God knows I don't have the spiritual and emotional maturity to hang on like many special parents do.

And then Rain was born. She was strong and beautiful. I, for the time being, had nothing to worry about. But, I did often wonder about those parents out there. The ones who were all dressed for Italy ...

Not too long ago, a fellow writer friend of mine (children's author Diane Roberts), showed me a photo of her granddaughter. Raeleigh ("Ray-lee") is about 5 months older than Rain, and in the photo, she had the same fair skin & wispy hair I had become familiar with.

Raeleigh, though, has what are called hemangiomas. Many of you have probably seen hemangiomas (they're common birthmarks) or had them yourselves. They often disappear after a kid turns two and are only a vague childhood memory. But Raeleigh's are a different, more aggressive kind. Hers have overtaken her chin and sides of her face so much so that she requires chemo and steroids to treat them.

Weeks afterwards, I thought about Raeleigh. Here her parents were constantly monitoring their baby's trachea tube, and all I had to deal with was Rain's passing hysterics. They were financing expensive medical treatments, and I was handing over a $15 co-pay for Rain's "wellness" visits. They celebrated every delayed developmental milestone, because hey, the milestone was met. We got to check of Rain's milestones as if the baby books were written especially with her in mind.

The point is, whether I acknowledge it every day or not, I have been enjoying a fabulous time in Italy. In the meantime, Raeleigh has been learning the ropes of Holland. Babies, whether because of sicknesses, disabilities, or impairments of any kind, are making it work in Holland. Italy and Holland are both beautiful, but the people of Holland deserve a hat-tippin', a kudos, a salute--something.

So.

Here we are.

Can you sense a favor comin', because I'm about ready to ask it?

Please, please, when you have a moment later today, or tonight after the kids are in bed, or tomorrow morning when you're sipping your coffee, check out something my sister & I built for Raeleigh:

http://www.racetoraeleigh.com/

It's nothin' flashy & we're still workin' out the kinks, but I truly have this flicker, this bit of hope, that everyone is going to help this one baby out. I know, I know: there are so many people that need help, so why this girl?

Because she's one you can help. She's not a nameless face. She just an innocent kid who got dealt a harsh hand. This is the first time I've ever used my God-given fingers to draw/write without benefiting myself financially in any sense because I believe people want to do right by this kid, if I can show them how. And, come on--who doesn't love turtles?

Holland, and Other Great Places

A few months back, I mentioned that I'm working on a very special project. Before I explain what it is, I'd like to share this piece written years ago:

Welcome to Holland
By Emily Perl Kingsley

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this...

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning for a fabulous vacation trip to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful plans. The Colosseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go.

Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland!!!" you say. "What do you mean Holland!!! I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they've haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would have never met.

It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you can catch your breath, you look around...and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills...and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things... about Holland.

The End of an Error--er--Era

Tim has been sick for two days. He hasn't been sick in a while, and this time he went down bad. He has chills, fever, soreness and the like. He's been asleep most of the time, but today, unfortunately, he had to watch Rain so we could get our apartment keys turned in on time (today at 5:00). He was bad off and mumbled several times, "I'm sorry I'm sick. I wish I could be more help to you."

St. Tim continued to do his best, though several times he ended up face down on the floor. No, really: he found a blanket, placed it in the middle of our old bedroom, and slept on it as necessary. I told him several times not to do so much, but to tell you the truth, it was hard as all get out to clean & watch Rain at the same time. Because all of the child safety devices in our apartment had been removed, she kept trying to plug in the vacuum cleaner, stick a screwdriver in another socket, and pull any remaining cords. She hunted down scraps of paper and metal to eat and screamed to the heavens whenever we took them from her. The entire time, Tim was half-dead, and I was wondering how all three of us ever lived together in such a small apartment.

The apartment is what's really on my mind, though. I mean, Tim & I moved into this apartment complex when we got married. Rain's entire first year of life played out in our tiny 1-bedroom apartment. The neighborhood was nice (in fact, if we could've afforded to buy a home there, we probably would've), and the maintenance guy was awesome. But the same little woods/creek that gave the complex some charm was also the reason it was cursed with spiders and the like. Don't even get me started on the mosquitoes ... Looking back, we should've totally moved out a long time ago, but hey, it was home. Anyway, I was a little nostalgic when we left today. I told Tim I would lock up. I said goodbye to the kitchen, shot some video of the place, locked the front door, and headed to the car--where Tim, with bags under his eyes and haggard expression, was sitting in the front seat with a crying Rain on his lap.

Nostalgia over.

HGTV, Call Me!

This past week we (Tim & I, I mean) have squeezed every last bit of life out of our carcasses to move out of our apartment. Between painting the new place and scrubbing down the old one, we have torn ourselves up to make this move happen. At one point, I was on all fours on the carpet telling my sister, "My lower back gave out!" My 4-year-old niece, thinking I was playing around, hopped on top of me. I slammed face first into the ground as my fingers bent awkwardly beneath me. Through a mouthful of carpet I said, "And now my fingers are sprained."

I resurrected many times after incidents like that because, hey, the closets won't paint themselves, right? Every day as we went to sleep at 2 or 3 A.M. and got up at 6:30, we comforted ourselves with, "It's almost over, it's almost over ..." 6:30 would come, and Rain would wake up all, "Hey, guys! So later I was thinking we could go to the park or that fun bookstore where they leave all those books on low shelves for me, but first, breakfast!"

Her schedule never changed, so she couldn't understand why Mommy's favorite new game was, "I'll Lie Here and You Can Crawl on My Head for All I Care" TM. At times I felt like a terrible mom because I would fall asleep randomly during the day, and I had to drop Rain off at my sister's a lot so I could work on the house. My email is backed up and bills are slipping through the cracks 'cause I'm just too tired to deal. Today we're going to clean up our old place, and hopefully we'll be ready to turn in our keys tomorrow night.

What I need to do is get on one of those HGTV design shows & let the professionals deal with this. You know, those shows where they redo someone's house because the person is like a single mom who is a purple heart war vet and now runs an orphanage. The only problem is I need a warm/fuzzy story, so that I get my name put at the top of the list. But without a terrible disease, bankruptcy, or orphan to my name, my chances of a home makeover are slim.

Unless ...

Do they have a show about new home owners who keep getting messed over by service technicians? If they do, tah-dah! I'm your gal. After the whole AT&T debacle, I was done in by enough bad service reps to surely qualify for a show. Not only did our appliance delivery guys have to return both our refrigerator & washer due to shipping damage (thanks, by the way, for scraping rubber on the laundry room walls I just painted, gentlemen), our carpet installers sliced through the wires connecting our newly installed home security system. Of course they didn't tell me they did this (had to have a Brinks guy check it out) because they probably figured I was mad at them already for not ordering enough carpet to finish the house (see you next week, guys!). And the plumber--did I tell y'all about the plumber that ripped us off? And who cleans a chimney in 20 minutes and charges $150??

Blood pressure rising

Forget Deserving Design; I'm gonna end up on an episode of ER.

The Scene

We are officially moving from our apartment on the last Saturday of this month. Every day until then, I'm going to lose 5% of my hair. The stress, stress, stress is making me a mess, mess, mess. The hardest thing is I can't do a lot of the stuff I need to do to get our new place ready (pack, paint, child-proof ...) when Rain is with me. I want her to hang out with me, but I can't sand wood in one hand and cuddle her with the other, right? So, I've been having my sister watch Rain a lot. I try to bring Rain with me whenever I can, but when I do ... well, here's what happened today:

I took Rain with me to buy paint. She was asleep when I took her out of the car, so I thought, "Sweet! I can shop in peace!" Well, ten minutes into the trip, Rain wakes up. She LOVES going to home improvement stores, because everything dangerous and pricey is out on the floor with no locks. Stacks and rows of toxic sprays, glues, & pesticides? Weeeee!

Well, I tried and tried to keep her in the cart, but she started crying and screaming. I tried carrying her--no go. She wanted to walk, and I was annoying her. After a few minutes, she was crawling all over me as I tried to restrain her. At one point, I sat her down to put on her shoe (yeah, by this time she had lost a shoe and was foaming at the mouth). She screamed, and it echoed along the aisles of metal cans and bounced off all the ears of the retired and childless men shopping at that hour.

"See??"I hissed at Rain. "I'm that lady at the store with a screaming kid who everyone hates! See who you've made Mommy into?"

I was so mad, I got up and walked off. "Fine!" I said. "I'm done with this!" I walked about five feet and peeked behind me. Rain turned her back to me (with a sassy flourish, no less!) and stomped off in the opposite direction. So, I walked another three feet and looked again. Rain had stopped as well. This is the part that troubles me most: after checking to see that I wasn't looking (I was), she hid behind a barrel in the aisle.

"Is she trying to make me believe she really ran off?" I thought. I ran towards the side of the barrel, and looked down on her. She was spying on the spot where I had just been. She was trying to punk me out! My mouth dropped open as she leaned out a bit like, "Now where did that silly woman go?"

"Rain!" I said, annoyed. She turned back and smiled like, "Yeah, I knew you'd be back."

Ugh! I was so mad. Rain knew it, too. For the next hour, she kept reading my eyes in this freaky sort of way. I think she was trying to decipher if I was mad, or if I was amused. She sort of smiled but all fake like. Her eyes said, "What is Mommy thinking? How can I bend these thoughts to my will?" I kept a straight face, but shook my head a few times to hint, "I'm not happy, and this isn't the end of it."

In conclusion: who is available to babysit this week? What--was it something I said?

AT&T'd Off

AT&T.

Where shall I begin, mine enemy? Ye vile, wanton lord of the Internet! How dare ye call yourself an "Internet SERVICE Provider?" Do ye deal in service, or is it not proper to say ye pass your duties to India? Knoweth ye not that the road to Hell is paved with poor connections??

Anger makes me speak King James-ish. Aghh! I am so through with AT&T. Yesterday, I spent 1 hour on the phone with them. All the while, Rain was running around the new house looking for bugs to eat, ladders to climb, and bottled cleaners to drink. Not only was I transferred FIVE times, but each one of them asked me my name, address, phone number, etc. Why doesn't an Internet service provider have, I don't know, a network for its own?? Then I got transferred to India! Now, I love my Indian folk, and the reps are as polite as can be, but I don't understand them and they clearly don't understand me. Do I fault them? Nope. AT&T should stop trying to save a buck & hire some more American reps. At least then I'll understand how terrible the service is. Honestly, why can't they get it together? Do they not have Outlook or Networking for Dummies? I had to talk to them again today, and seriously, this is a sample of yesterday's & today's conversations:

Yesterday (Me & the American rep)
Me: The problem is, someone was supposed to connect our fax line on Monday as well as a main line. But, only our main line was connected.
Rep: I see. Well, or records show someone is coming on Thursday to connect the second line.
Me: Thursday? This is the first I've heard of this. What time on Thursday?
Rep: 8 A.M. to 8 P.M.
Me: I don't live in this home yet, so I'm not here a lot. Could you give me a smaller window of time?
Rep: Let me transfer you to our repair department--
Me: --no! I've already been transferred there before, and they transferred me to you--
*click*
New Rep: Thank you for contacting AT&T. What is the phone number your are calling about?

Today (Me & the Indian rep)
Me: I'm having problems with our email. We can receive email but not send it.
Rep: Ok. To assist you, I need your mother's maiden name for security purposes.
Me: (I give the name, but then realize that the main account holder is Tim, so they probably need his mother's maiden name) Actually, the name is--
Rep: I'm sorry, your initial answer was incorrect.
Me: I know, it's actually--
Rep: I'm sorry, because of security purposes, I need you mother's maiden name.
Me: I KNOW. The name is Sor--
Rep: I'm sorry. Because you answered incorrectly, you will have to fax me an ID, proof of your address, and--
Me: What? Seriously? Look, we're not even done moving into this house. We don't have a fax machine set up--
Rep: I'm sorry, because of security purposes ...

Pardon Me

I felt kind of bad for Rain today because most of her toys were packed up. So, when I had to pack or clean, she had to entertain herself with--yikes--her imagination. That lasted about 20 minutes, then she looked at me like, "So ... when are we going to get a Wii like Aunt Gina has?" o I tried out a time-tested parental phrase like, "What am I? Made of money?" and a fresh one, too: "Hey, it was either a Wii for you or a new stainless steel refrigerator with built-in ice maker for us. Would you like a cool glass of water?"


So, it was time to break out the books. Before Rain was mobile, she liked books. When she began to crawl and walk, all of a sudden books were for rocks. I'm holding on to the time where she will love them again. Anyway, so I grabbed 2 books, one for each of us. Rain opened her book on her lap.

I picked up the other book and read a sentence to Rain. She smiled, moved closer to me, and took the book from my hand. Still smiling, she closed the book, and put it next to her.

"You don't like that one, huh?" I said. "OK, let's try this one."

I took the book sitting on her lap and read a page aloud. Rain smiled, took the book from me, and closed it. After a meaningful look, she handed the same book back to me.

I opened it again and started to read. She reached for the book.

"What?" I said, "What's wrong?" Then I got it. "Oh ... you don't want me to read aloud." Rain smiled, and we each looked at our own books quietly. Pardon me, madame.

Abuser

It rained on my way home tonight. Without an umbrella in the car, I was forced to race to my front door barefoot (my dressy shoes would've caused an injury) with my huge diaper bag over one shoulder and a sleeping Rain over the other. I quickly said hello to Tim on my way in (by that I mean I hissed, "It's cold in here!"), and put Rain gently into the crib. I took off her shoes, and she fell back to sleep.

I walked out of the room, and finally go to say a proper hello to Tim, who I hadn't seen all day. A few minutes later, I went to the bathroom. While I was there, I could hear Rain crying. She must've woken up in the dark room and wondered where she was. I heard Tim go into the bedroom to get her. She continued to cry for a bit then stopped. When I stepped out of the bathroom again, Rain was crying.

Tim said, "You want to hear about what kind of abuser she is?"

Sure, I'm always up for that.

"Well," he said, "she started crying, so I went to get her. I tried to walk her around, but she kept crying. So, I took her out to the living room, and when she saw you weren't here, she stopped crying. She started to fall asleep, and then she heard you flush the toilet. Her head shot up, and her face looked like, 'Ha! She's here!'"

So, by the time I opened the door, the waterworks were on. Bad baby! Bad!

100 & Rightiest

Today is my 100th post since Rain was born. That's just madness.

Carry on.

So, a moment of reflection is in order, I'm sure. After an incident today, I thought about what the hardest thing about parenting is. I'm sure it's different for everybody, but for me it's "rightiest." Look, I'm a Type B+ personality (not quite as psycho as an A, but definitely prone to overdoing stuff), and that means I'm always torn between doing what's right and rightiest.

Oh, I know my fellow grammarians (halla if you love semicolons) are shouting, "There is no such word!" But, my syntax-loving brethren, let me explain. Sometimes I find myself debating what I think is right versus what I feel is right. I can't say one is "more right," because then it feels like I'm saying one choice is wrong. Neither choice seems wrong, but one seems rightier. For example, let's say I'm working on a business project at home. After a few minutes, I really get into it, and here comes Rain. She toddles in with her two very cute teeth, a smile, and a look like, "So ... are we going outside now? I've been playing quietly for a while now." She got these big cheeks, right? And she's all giggling like, "How fun am I? Who wouldn't want to play with me?" There I am thinking about all the work I have to do. Don't I want to show her a good work ethic by example? Don't I want her to be independent? Isn't some of the money we make going into her piggy bank (and by "piggy bank" I mean high-interest-yielding online savings fund) after all?
It's not that working is bad. Playing with Rain definitely isn't wrong. But what's rightiest?? Let's say someone always picks up extra hours at work to save for her kid's education or just to buy fun stuff for her. Nothing wrong with that. But, if she starts missing all her kid's ball games and whatnot because she works, well, now she's skipping out on good things. Then I'm thinking, "That is SO me. I could work every weekend to pay for Rain's college, and then when I turn 40, someone will hit me with a car. I'll miss all her Saturday games, and still not see her graduate!"

That kind of thinking is downright dangerous. I mean physically dangerous. Several times in Rain's short life I have made bad choices because I get distracted doing something that I think is best. The choice wasn't bad, but it definitely wasn't the rightiest.

Today Rain & I went out for our daily walk. I did the whole mommy thing & put Rain in shorts, bathed her in SPF 50, & brought a sufficient water supply (plus snacks). I put her in her stroller for 15 minutes, then let her walk beside me. She toddled down the sidewalk and walked all over the grass in her spiffy new leather shoes (softies for newbie walkers). After forty minutes, I decided it was time to come in. The heat was too much, & Rain looked sleepy. We were playing in the grassy field in front of our apartment, so thankfully, the walk home would be short.

I was about to slip Rain into her stroller when I noticed a large spider sitting on the fabric hood. I put Rain down next to me and told her, "Mommy has to get this guy out of your seat, then we'll go home." I shook the fabric for a second, but the spider didn't move. I frowned, shook the fabric again, and the spider jumped to the grass.

"Yay!" I said to Rain.

Who was no longer there.

I looked up, and there Rain was, toddling 12-15 feet from me. In the few seconds I was messing with the spider, Rain had run towards our apartment door. The front of our first-floor apartment is much lower than the surrounding landscape, so it looks as if you're going underground when you walk up to our door. The problem was that to get to our apartment Rain would have go down a stairwell. On either side of this stairwell is a 3-4 ft drop-off. Below that is nothing but cement and stone landscaping.

As I saw Rain toddle towards the edge of the drop-off, 3 things happened:

One, even though I took off running, I knew I would never make it. She was too far ahead of me.

Two, I felt instant guilt. This is the day, I thought, where I screw up our lives. She'll break her neck, and I'll kill myself.

Three, I screamed, "RAINNNNN!"

Now, when I say, "Rain!" from time to time--let's say, when she runs off with my car keys--Rain always runs faster. Even when I'm annoyed because she's spilling something across the carpet, she runs because she thinks it's a game. To her, calling after her is a sign you want to play chase.

But, when I shouted, "RAINNNNN!" I tell you my soul was in it. I screamed that scream that people do when horror is inevitable. Anyone outside probably turned to look.

Rain stopped, looked back at me, and I tackled her. I was thrilled, mad, happy, & scared. "Thank you, God!" I said. I told Rain, "Your Father was watching out for you, because your mommy is an idiot." I know I'm not an idiot, but I felt like one. I was mad for making the right decision to rid Rain's stroller of the spider, but not the rightiest one: watching her. I should've held her hand while I was distracted or kept her in front of me. Every few weeks something like that happens, and I feel lousy. I try to do the right thing but plenty of times it's not the rightiest thing.

... Wowzers, I could never be an inspirational speaker. I'm getting a weight off my chest by tossing it on my back! Yikes. Ok, on the upside, welp, Rain's a pretty happy & healthy kid. During the 99 posts before this, I can say Rain & me have had a great, although unpredictable, time. The only one who could say anything different would be Rain.

And she can't type.