Last night we went out for a lovely Sunday evening stroll with the family. It had rained a bit during the day, but had cooled off with a nice breeze and was quite pleasant. "See?" Ryan said, "Don't you love Miami?" A few minutes later he was telling me a story when I became a little distracted. I was looking a few buildings up the block, wondering if a pipe had burst because there were just sheets of water in front of their building. And then. "Oh no." I started pushing Ryan saying, "Go! Go!" But it was too late and within seconds the "pipe" that had burst was over our head and the rain was pouring down. On us. With our three kids in the stroller. In the middle of the park. So we ran and ran, children screaming and made it back to our apartment. Completely drenched, every one. "Yeah," I muttered as we dripped into the building, "I love Miami."
The thing is, this isn't exactly an isolated incident. It's not the first time this has happened to me. Not even the first time this week. It is, in fact the third time within a week we've been caught in a downpour. And seriously, there is about zero warning. One of the times I was walking and I heard one clap of thunder and tried to hurry home, but of course didn't make it in time, although it wasn't nearly as heavy a rain as yesterday's. Another time I was driving and decided I would just have to valet park my car and it took five adults, still getting soaked in sideways-blowing torrential rains, to get me, the kids, and all our gear in to safety.
It's been this way for weeks. It's rained every day for the last few weeks as far as I can remember. And with such little warning, and such a bad collection of getting-drenched experiences, I hardly dare venture out anymore.
But it's not the only thing limiting me. The list seems to be growing. We've already discussed bathroom limitations, which loom as large as ever. Not only can I not go to the bathroom, I can't even put anything away that belongs in a bathroom because of the ensuing tantrums and the following sour mood it puts everyone in. Which is actually what happens after any of the following events are put to an end. And the going to the park by myself limitation. Still in place. Beach limitation - check.
In addition, I can no longer take the dirty diapers out to the trash chute every time someone poops because I have three little shadows following me out the door and into the hallway where they promptly scatter in all different directions. It's great fun to them, and when I'm geared up for it, provides some sort of outing, but I've yet to have it lead to anything less than a half-hour, hit every floor in the building excursion. Then trying to get them back to our apartment, or any other coordinated direction is a total joke (Ryan always says it's like herding cats). And in a couple more inches when the little guys can reach the elevator button, I'm sure I'll have one running down to the elevator, pushing the button, getting on and going who knows where; one running out the door to the garage, should anyone happen to open the door; and one screaming blissfully as he runs down another hallway to make his escape.
So the poop must fester. Until nap time, high chair time, or some other confining moment. Like throwing all three in someone's crib (which happens fairly often. Like daily shower time).
Then there's household chores. I can't empty the dishwasher when anyone is around or I have two babies pulling out knives, breakable dishes, and nearly sixty pounds worth of baby sitting on the open dishwasher door. Nix that.
Computer time. Gone. Three kids pulling the mouse, clicking on advertisements, minimizing my screens until I can't see a dang thing, sending messages to people unbeknownst to me, and probably chatting with people in China for all I know. At present, Phoenix has just started a 91 page print job on the printer that startled him so much he hasn't stopped screaming for 5 minutes.
Which I guess means that's my cue to go. But really, what in the world do I do with all these kids as I see my options dwindling to just about nothing??
Well, plenty of this, unfortunately:
Seriously? You still have to stand this close even with the huge tv and life-size Elmo?
And the tv-induced thoughtless stupor:
(But see, they're at least changing positions. That counts for physical activity, right?)
And eating. If you can't tell, every one here is really good at that. Hmm, maybe that's why I have such chunky kids...
But I'm up for suggestions because we're all going crazy in this house. Oh yeah, and coloring and play doh or anything else crafty - no can do. Everything gets eaten.
Anyway, Happy Hurricane Season. It officially starts today.