Goodness gracious, that was a lot of rain.
So, I have used an umbrella probably three times in my life: the first time was to learn how to use an umbrella, the second time was because I didn’t figure it out the first time, and the third time was yesterday.
Whenever I see someone with an umbrella, I assume that they have their life together. Generally speaking, if you carry an umbrella, it signifies at least a degree preparation and forethought; it also shows that you are responsible enough to remember to take your umbrella with you when you leave (the same goes for jackets, which is why I do not wear them). Carrying accessories is not an option for me because I can’t remember to take them with me when I leave. All jackets, umbrellas, and hats are disposable, one-time use items, so I stay away from them. The only thing that I am willing to carry outside of my pockets is food, cause I never forget food. I don’t wear pants without pockets, because the idea of having to remember my keys, wallet, and cell phone everywhere I go is absurd.
Yesterday’s excessive rain revealed to me it’s true purpose. Rain is a test. It is a test of parenthood. It is a drill put on by the powers that be, who are placed in control of protecting the children in our community. It became clear to me that the act of picking up your kids from school, daycare, church or any other function during a rainstorm is a test to see if you are responsible enough to own a pair of kids. I’m here to tell you, it is a bitch to pass the competency test.
I almost fell into their little trap. As I left the house to get the kids, I grabbed a bright yellow rain-slicker, only to cover up the turkey burger I was holding in my hand as I ran to the car. The rain slicker was meant to be a layer of protection for the food, not necessarily for me.
As I pulled out of the driveway, I thought, “huh, well it will be convenient to have a rain slicker for when I pick up the children. How convenient.”
That’s when it hit me, “They are watching”, I thought to myself. When I go to pick up the kids in the pouring down rain, fully protected in my rain coat, only to tell the kids to “haul-ass” to the car, “and don’t get the seats all wet”, they will know that I don’t have the competency to carry an umbrella or shield the children from the rain, thereby proving myself unfit to raise kids
But, they can’t fool me. I have an Amanda, and Amanda’s have umbrellas. The people in the world who truly have their sh*t together (for lack of a better term); they carry umbrellas. I have one of these people, and I know how to access them. So, before I pulled away from my driveway, I sent Amanda a text, asking if we owned an umbrella. True to form, she told me exactly where I could find one. As I momentarily laid down my turkey burger, popped the trunk to grab the umbrella, I knew that, if only for today, I was winning at adulting. The title of “Parent” could proudly be stamped across my chest, and added to my resume. I have never been so proud to carry an umbrella. I have never felt so good about defeating the rain.
Peace, Love, and all things Beef related,