Our little island has been hit hard with one too many nor’easter storms in this early New England spring. So much so that the additional mom bag I consistently carry alongside my diaper bag now stores an umbrella. Also because of this salty weather J has mastered the art of walking in bulky rain boots. Thus the end of this highly dramatic (work/family/weather) week was similar to all others since arriving to Newport. It began raining only after we decided it was a “good idea” to go out for dinner instead of having me cook. This evening, it was the husband who was burned out, exhausted and he was clearly dreading the thought of having to try to control two littles under age three at a public dinner. So I made a soul-saving pit stop to his favorite coffee shop without asking him and he nearly tucked and rolled his way out of the front door before I could even brake at the front of the shop.
After spending the next ten minutes doing my best to reassure J that we were not going to leave without his dada and pumping on the brakes to keep the truck moving attempting to prevent K from waking up in her car seat, the husband finally exited his home away from home. By this point though it was pouring and he was rained on quite a bit before getting back into the truck. Still, he had a smile that the rain could not wash away with his coffee in hand. Which made the next five minutes that much more pleasant.
As he jumped in I commented on how quickly the rain had come in. The husband then said, still with the smile on his face in plain sight of J who was sitting in the backseat, “Ya, this f***ing rain in ridiculous.” Perhaps it was the coffee beans the husband must of sniffed while in the shop because he is usually the one to remind to filter my language. I have a mouth like a sailor and I rather enjoy expressing myself with f, s, h, b-word. But he let this sentence flow from his mouth so effortlessly one would think he had said something like “this beautiful rain.” He did not.
Thankfully today, I was not to blame for muddy water our spongy toddler absorbed. Of the six word sentence, J soaked up only two and wrung them out so quickly that the husband and I could engage in our usual group huddle to determine the best way to avoid the next heavy downpour of combined words to stream out of J’s mouth. This time J added a question mark to the end, “F***ing rain?” As if to ask just the kind of rain his dada was talking about.
In that moment I began laughing uncontrollably while trying to prevent any sounds from actually coming out of my mouth. It hurt so bad. I looked over and saw the husband doing the very same as he directed his silent, body shaking laughter out toward the window to avoid being seen by J. We immediately tried to compose ourselves and I left it up to the husband to deal with the rain.
The husband did a great job in handling the oncoming shower by diverting J’s attention to the dark clouds in the sky. He explained how these types of clouds are filled with water and eventually release rain below. Dada once again diverted the ship away from the rainstorm and we only experienced light drizzle.
Noteworthy Lessons of the Day
#1. Dada’s are not perfect, even though they would like mama to believe they are.
#2. NEVER, let your kids catch you slipping.