Singing In The Rain

Sometimes you've just to get out of the house, you know? It had been stormy this morning but at lunchtime it was only spitting so I thought it would be OK, weather-wise, and we trotted down to the park, both in our summer dresses and Cave Baby riding on my hip in a cotton ring sling. And the park was deserted because of the weather but we had a lovely time although the rain did seem to be getting a bit harder. It had definitely moved on from spitting to just plain raining. In time it got hard enough for me to think that we'd better set off home before we got too wet so I sheltered under a tree to put the babe back in her sling: holding an umbrella and loading up a baby is beyond me. A couple of minutes later the heavens really opened and it all started feeling a bit futile.

When it rains I am programmed to try and keep myself dry. You know how it is, frizzy hair and wet shoes. Not good. But do you know that point when you get so wet that you realise that it doesn't matter any more? That the damage is done, so you may as well just enjoy it? It is a great feeling. Cave Baby was grinning from ear to ear as she watched the rain bouncing off the path in front of us. Water was sloshing out of my shoes with each step but for once I was able to stop worrying and embrace the moment. I felt happy and it was a nice change because I had been all ready to write a post about how glum in spirit I had been, what with the feeling of my baby growing up and me doubting whether she really needs me any more (she is crawling, eating well, drinking from a lidded beaker, pulling herself to her feet, cutting down to one nap a day and almost sleeping through the night).

I know she does need me really, but I have just been doubting myself and feeling that she was accomplishing all these things despite me rather than because of me. And since I have to meet with my PhD supervisor soon and break the news that I am not going to continue with it (because I think I will try to write up an MPhil based on one day a week's work), I am once again cross-examining my decision not to go back to work in favour of staying home to look after my daughter. On top of all this I am feeling a bit lonely because I have had my man every day for a whole two weeks while we were on holiday, and now we are back in the usual evenings only routine.

But then you get a good night's sleep and you go out and have a nice time in the rain, and everything feels a lot better. So I'm fine actually, and I think I might be finally resolving to actually try hard to get this MPhil done so that I will have a shiny new qualification when the time does come to look for a real job.