After first wrote this, I realized what I'd written. Nothing, really. But everything....a little drama, a teaspoon of heroism, a sweet and curious son. But think about what a major difference it is, for us. After years of so much struggle and knife-edged cold war, we are living the swirls and patterns of life as a family.

Between better treatment for CD and me being home, the last months have glommed together into a place where, well, we don't keep a bottle of Tums in every room.

And it suits us. This is what we risked it all for.

It is comfortable and normal to be having this life, now. Like an old blanket pulled from the dryer.

Even the little dramas of family life. We embrace them because this is how it should be - hard work. But faced together.

The one last night brought courtesy of the rain...

Oh man, the rain!

This global warming shit is really getting on my nerves. All those icebergs melting off the North Pole and raining on my house. Seriously, don't help me with the math - I know what I know. It is raining former glaciers on me and no one can prove different.

We haul the Thwacka door out to work on it. Then we quickly stuff it back in the garage as clouds darken. This has now been going on for 2 weeks. You wouldn't think it would take that long to get 2 coats of varnish on one side, 2 coats of paint on the other, and a new lock mechanism installed. And it wouldn't. If only I had a nice airplane hangar to work in.

CD picked up some overtime last night. One of the few beneifts of his working for LowCeiling -I'm so snappy with the pseudonyms, eh?- is that they were too cheap to make him salaried. Which means, ah, overtime. Sparkly, happy overtime.

He worked 6 hours of overtime last night on an extra project. Meanwhile, I was supposed to lightly sand the door between coats, so it was on sawhorses out back.

I was on the phone with my friend Cee when it got dark. Ominous dark. Possibly organ music was playing.

Into the rising gusts thinking 'Oh, Not Again with the Rain!' I went. Got a tarp and wrapped the door on the sawhorses. Closed up the windows. And then, someone took a chisel to the sky.

Rain literally dropped, like a wall of wet.

Off and on all afternoon, into the night. The winds rising and shivering against our windows.

Bear and I played cards, tackled computer games, snacked on popcorn, snuggled in for Scooby Doo movies. Everytime I tried to leave him and get something work-ish done, thunder would slam into the house and we'd end back up in a people-pile.

It was after 10 when CD came home. We were both up to greet him.

But he quickly changed and headed back out.

"What? Stay in, get dry. I'll heat you up some..."

He shook his head. "I've got to get the door in, the tarp is completely blown off. And I have to try and do something about the flooded street."

20 minutes later, picked my way through the mist and the wet and the really dark night to where my husband stood - literally knee-deep in water on the street in front of our house.

"Oh, God." The road was entirely submerged for about a 30 feet stretch. "Is it going to reach the house?"

"No," he told me. He had a long pole and was working at the sewer grate. "The leaves have caught in the sewer entrance."

We heard a lot of sirens in the distance. A cop drove by, slowing down as the water reached over all its tires. Up and down the street the water wasn't as high, but the asphalt was only visible in the middle of the road.

I went in and wrapped Bear, who was watching from the living room, in a long raincoat. Carried him on my back out into the slowing rain.

CD had miraculously cleared the sewer opening. A small funnel appeared in the water by his calves, as the worst of it drained. The water levels receded down our driveway, inch by inch.

"It'll clog up again," CD told us as we moved back into the house. "But the rain's pretty much stopped. I think we'll be all right."

This morning, we awoke to sunshine. CD already gone for work. Bear climbed into bed with me. "Mommy! The leaves are in the street and the water is gone! I saw a real flood! The biggest flood ever! Where did it go?"

"Mmmm, good question..." I yawned.

"It's a beautiful day," he insisted, nudging me with one of his little sharp elbows. "Let's go outside and see what the flood left!"

Pulling myself from under the covers, I managed to steer Bear towards the hallway without tripping over his excitement too badly.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Bear?"

"Is Daddy a hero for fixing the flood?"

"Well, I think he's a really smart and good daddy to go out there in the cold and fix it..."

He gave me look. "No. He's a Hero Daddy. What if we had to swim to bed last night!"

And what else could I do...but agree?

Posted by: Elizabeth at 04:16 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
Post contains 906 words, total size 5 kb.

1 I will trade you the rain for the 95 degree heat here that is the direct cause of those melting glaciers! Daddies make the best heroes.

Posted by: Cheryl at October 03, 2006 04:21 AM (n20Y8)

2 he sounds like a hero daddy to me. in a hero family. lovely post.

Posted by: jen at October 03, 2006 02:45 PM (dWF9+)

3 I'm so pleased y'all are doing well. Every daddy is or should be their child's hero. I miss mine everyday. Thank you for continuing to post.

Posted by: mommytowahid at October 04, 2006 01:33 AM (xvU5A)

4 Kiss that super smart Bear of yours on the forehead for me, okay?

Posted by: undercovermutha at October 04, 2006 08:17 AM (l97iS)

5 I just love your writing style. It's so engaging, and fun to read! Thanks for sharing your life-stories. I really enjoy them! It sure did rain

Posted by: Eyes at October 05, 2006 02:27 AM (L67iN)

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