Another rainy day yesterday -- but no one except for me minded

Yes, I was exultant when the rain began falling on Sunday morning for the first time in over a month. The ground was parched, the grass had stopped growing, the cows were eating weeds of questionable origin, and I had to fill the water trough every day because the brook had run dry.

Then it rained for three more days, and I was still happy about it, because the drought had been such a source of worry for me over the past few weeks, and I knew it would take a few consecutive days of rain to really change the amount of groundwater and reverse the drought.

So I couldn’t help feeling a little guilty yesterday morning when I woke to still more rain and had a twinge of wishing that we could have a day without rain, just for recreational purposes. But I suppressed the thought. Still, by midmorning I felt a little like the Cat in the Hat, trying to pull fun and merriment out of thin air as the kids and I spent yet another day at home watching the rain fall.

But once I stepped back mentally to take an objective look at the scene, I realized I was reading it all wrong. Yes, I wanted to get outside with the kids; I wanted to go for a bike ride or take a walk or even just sit outdoors eating ice cream, but they were having a fine time with our rainy day program. Holly’s friend Caroline had come over to play, and the girls played Wii games for a little while and then immersed themselves – and also immersed half the kitchen – in an art project involving construction paper, glue, and colored sand. After lunch, they finished their sand paintings and I made a batch of chocolate cupcakes. The girls came up with the idea of designing “order forms” listing various options for the cupcakes that they could then check off according to their preferences: almonds, coconut, frosting, birthday candles.

And that was when I realized that to them, it wasn’t a tedious day of indoor boredom; it was a really great playdate. From this day, they would remember the sand painting, the cupcakes, the order forms; not the rain or the feeling of being cooped up indoors. When you’re eight, you live so much more in the moment, which in part means not regretting that you can’t fit in yet another late-summer bike ride but instead just having a terrific time with a friend.

Why I’m so sure of this is that I can still remember feeling that way myself, and coincidentally enough, earlier this week I received an e-mail from the mother of one of my own childhood friends with whom I’d fallen out of touch many years ago. Corresponding with my friend’s mother reminded me of what a wonderful time I used to have at their house. I remember making confections out of powdered sugar, milk and peanut butter; playing Master Mind; letting their guinea pigs toddle around on blankets on the floor. We used a tape recorder – at that time the apex of home technology -- to produce imaginary radio commercials that we found side-splitting. I remember the inexplicable bliss of a sleepover there and how remarkably happy I was just to get to be part of their household for twenty-four hours. But I doubt my friend’s mom had the same fabulous memories of those particular days or nights. She might have been preoccupied with work or health concerns, or maybe she was happy as well but for other reasons. But I don’t necessarily think she was looking at us and sensing that we were having the time of our lives.

So it was reassuring to remind myself how little the kids cared about the weather. They had fun; that’s all they were focusing on. It was a good reminder to me to forget about the sink full of dishes and the growing accumulation of clutter at the bottom of the stairs and just enjoy another rainy day. Sunshine is predicted for today; we’ll have the chance to do something else. The girls had fun playing together yesterday. Rain and all.