Rain Walk

It's been raining a lot around here lately. A friend commented that it had rained 6 or 7 inches in the past three days. Friends, family and neighbors are sump-pumping basements with fervor, and in a state riddled with potholes, puddles are everywhere. Rivers and streams are flooding, and I swear earthworms and slugs are preparing to take over the world.

Generally this time of year is one of anticipation and excitement as things are happening at a frantic pace. My older daughter and son have only a few days left of school. And while their after school activities are ramping up with end of year ceremonies, playoffs and make-up games due to rain-outs, the dreaded homework, spelling tests and reading logs have ceased.

This year lends an extra level of giddiness as we've applied to host a Fresh Air Fund child and over the weekend we had our family interview. A couple days of rain and some seriously couped up children didn't help our cause as we pleaded with the kids to just behave during the interview.

Overall the interview went well, but it was not without it's cringeable moments. Once the Fresh Air Fund representative had spoken with the children, I shooed them upstairs to play, hoping to be able to finish the interview in complete sentences. Yet just as the woman asked if we had firearms in our home, Sophie appeared by my side. I asked her what was wrong. She said "I've been shot." Perhaps we should have ended the interview there.

But much like all Mainers do, we will forge ahead regardless of the lingering rain. A rain, that when coupled with early June temperatures, can dampen spirits, chill to the bone, turn children into Nerf gun wielding fiends, and make even the simplest days a challenge to get through.

So today Gillian and I exclaimed "rain be damned" and ventured out for a walk. Of course her proclamation sounded more like "rain de bammed" but I certainly knew what she meant.

We had fun on our rain walk.

Our trek did become a bit tedious when Gillian stopped to say hello to every single slug and worm she saw. Even the really, really tiny ones; ones not seen by the unimaginative, untrained eye of an adult.

She had full conversations with the particularly "cute" ones she discovered. She stomped in puddles. She picked flowers. She listened to birds. She got to carry her kitty cat "vumvella."

Then she didn't want to carry her umbrella anymore. So I did.

Then she didn't want to carry her flowers anymore. So I did.

Then she didn't want to walk anymore. So I carried her too.

 Then she decided worms and slugs were not at all cute and needed to be avoided at all costs. So I hot-footed it up our street with the seriousness and dedication of someone walking through a minefield. The last thing I needed were the squeals of a hysterical two-year-old piercing my ear drum.

We had fun on our rain walk, yes we did. At the very least, it was better more responsible than opening a bottle of wine at 1:30 in the afternoon. Particularly on a day when I needed to be able to navigate my way to the bus stop. In the van.

We had fun on our rain walk, but boy I can't wait for the sun to be back!

P.S. I decided a beer would better suit my mood! Although I forgot to peel the sticker off my orange and I think I just swallowed it. Damn rain!

Be Kind

As the mother of three kids, none of whom have a natural gracefulness, I am used to scrapes, cuts, and bruises. I have staunched bloodied noses, lips, knees and elbows. I've seen falls off bikes, skateboards, scooters, skis, chairlifts and swings. I've watched every single one of my children walk into glass doors, parked cars, signposts and trees.

I have stood stoic over x-rays, barium swallows, and cast removals. I have watched my child endure morphine drips, general anesthesia and ridiculous amounts of blood draws. I have witnessed, much to my horror, repeated attempts to put IV lines into my dehydrated infant. I have washed dirt out of road rash, and pulled my share of teeth. I've wrapped ankles and iced knees and heads.

But none of these injuries, which so rightfully bring my children to tears, have rocked me to the core the way their hurt feelings do. It is the other wounds, the ones that you can't see, that make my heart hurt.

Mean kids. They're out there, they know who they are, and they know what they're doing. Mean kids can make parenting nice kids difficult. There are so many things I'd like to tell my children about mean kids when their feelings are hurt.  Instead I find myself quietly drying tears and whispering apologies for what they are going through, with a steadfast promise that it will get better. I will make it better. A child's heartbreak is so unnerving when it comes at the hand of a friend, classmate, teammate.

Tonight I think of a young lady. A beautiful, kind girl. A girl who loves with all of her heart, who truly cares about people. Tonight was a special night for her, and she deserved nothing but the best. Kids were mean to this kind girl. And it made her sad. And her mom was sad. And I am sad. But I know that this amazing girl went on with her special night; she did not let those mean kids define her. She was kind. She was kind to those who were mean. It is at her core, this kindness.

I hope this young lady knows how important she is. I hope she knows how beautiful she is. How smart and funny and talented. She is a gifted student and athlete. Not many teens her age have accomplished all that she has. And the best part is that she has done it all with kindness in her heart, the most beautiful smile on her face.

If my daughters grow up to be "just like" anyone, I hope it is you K.H.

I will be blessed if my daughters are anything like you!

                                                                                                                                                  

 As mothers we share our stories, wince and shake our heads. We know firsthand how badly a mother hurts when her child, no matter what their age, falls victim to a mean kid. As mom's we attempt to be a source of comfort and strength for each other, and we make it better for our kids. There are so many amazing, wonderful, compassionate and inspiring parents out there. And you are raising phenomenal children. It is so important this work that you are doing. Be kind in front of your children, in the face of mean kids, and it will make a difference.

Watching a pair of Robins the other day, Gillian made a remarkably simple, yet powerful observation. "The baby one always follows the Mommy," she said. 

This is something we should never forget.