I used to love rainy days. It was the perfect excuse to curl up with a good book and do nothing but read all day. Or watch old tv shows or movies. I have a very vivid memory as a kid of watch Magnum PI with my siblings on a rainy, Michigan summer day.
Now that I have kids I don't enjoy rainy days as much as I used to. I try to curl up with a good book but I always seem to be interrupted by two children with too much pent up energy. Waaaayyy too much pent up energy. Sometimes I still kick them outside anyway. In the winter it's easy to send them outside. Just bundle them up first. Summer is best, I don't even care if they have shoes on. Just don't come in the house if you are completely filthy. Please take your clothes off on the porch and hose your feet off before you come in. They know the rules (not that they follow them). But rainy days are harder. They quickly run out of things to do and are soon back in the house begging to watch cartoons.
I try to be the good mother that doesn't let her kids watch tv all day on rainy days, but I do like to keep a lid on my sanity so I sometimes falter on the tv rule. They were bored of books, games, and mostly each other. So I whipped out Mary Poppins and for 2 hours they were quiet as church mice. But that was yesterday. Rain seems to come in streaks of at least four or so days here. It is day 2 and I am already running on fumes of patience with them.
This one even bit his sister today.
It looked like a giant rabbit bit her hand because all he has are two (quite large) front teeth at the moment. He hasn't bit anyone since he was 2 years old. He is now going on 8. I have clearly lost control of the household.
Oh how I wish Mary Poppins would float down with her umbrella and carpet bag and save my sanity.
But, hallelujah, let the angels sing. It is the weekend. Daddy is home. I believe it's his turn. Tag, you're it.