When it rains, it pours

It has been raining for far too long.

A friend called me at 8 o'clock one morning this week. As soon as I answered the phone, I heard, "It's awful, isn't it?"

I knew just what she was talking about. The forecast called for another cold, wet day. The kind of day that moms dread, when toddlers everywhere stand at the door yelling "Out! Out!" and cannot be deterred by mom's assurance that it is simply too yucky to go outside.

Abby has tried everything she can think of to convince me that it is, in fact, not too wet to go out and play. She's found every shoe in the house and lined them up by the back door. She's learned to put her own shoes on. She's learned that when I'm holding Caleb, I can't stop her from finding my shoes and putting them on my feet. She's pleaded for daddy when mommy tells her for the umpteenth time that we aren't going into the backyard. She's dragged Caleb's carseat into the kitchen and asked to get in the car. She's packed her own diaper bag, and brought me my keys. She's stared longingly out the playroom window and begged "Pool? Splash?"

But all this to no avail. Once, when it was only sprinkling, we took a short walk and found some shallow muddy puddles to jump in. But our recent weather is more than a sprinkle, and not conducive to 4-month-old babies and hyperactive toddlers.

So she's resolved to drive me slowly insane, chipping away at my resolve one misplaced toy at a time, by creating her own offensive indoor weather patterns. I cannot count the number of times we have stopped to clean up the playroom this week to make room for the next tropical storm Abby to roll through. I may never find all of the balls that are supposed to be in the ball pit. And poor Noah, it seems, will never return to his plastic ark.

I'm trying to stand my ground, because it is, in fact, too yucky to go outside. But I fear I'm fighting a losing battle. If she learns to open the door and let herself into the backyard, I'm afraid I won't have the will to stop her.

I see the sun beginning to poke through. Maybe there's hope after all.