Little Pigs

To say that we have been having an unusual amount of rain here in Wester would be a tremendous understatement. It has been raining like god is mad at us. Or, like an unintentional rain goddess has moved to town, which is, in fact, the case. You see, like the truck driver in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series, I, too, am a bringer of rain. In the 19 years my folks have lived in their town, I have only ever been to visit three times when it didn't rain. The first year they were there they broke rainfall records. The first year we were in Small Town was the wettest in history. And so, now, it seems that I am bringing the wet stuff to Wester. You're welcome.

But I digress. This post isn't about me. It is about the piglets I call my children.

After days of torrential downpours, our back yard is a veritable swamp. The entire utility side (where the shop buildings and the 'garden' are) is under three to six inches of water. Now that the kiddos are recovered from the plague that little ol' virus, they are ready to be entertained. Z has been chomping at the bit to stomp in a mud puddle ever since we had the carpets cleaned in Small Town and all mud play was strictly verboten. Every time a single drop of precipitation has fallen from the sky she asks, "Now can I play in the puddles?" (Bad parenting side note: I kind of told her she could play in the puddles here, knowing full well that it never rains here and the likelihood of having to follow through was slim. That'll show me, huh?)

So today was the day. The magical day where permission was granted for the children to don their rain boots and go to town. And here are the results:


So this is what it will look like when Q starts growing a beard! Yikes!


Z was working on some powerful mud dreadlocks, courtesy of her brother. I actually had to run the bath, bathe them head to toe, drain the bath to get rid of the brown opaque water, then run another full tub and bathe them again.

Q had mud up his nose, in his mouth and packed in his ears. To make things even more fun, he had a total mud butt diaper that was also completely soaked with muddy water. When I went to wipe his heinous hiney, it was like I was using sandpaper instead of wipes. Good times!


Once the piglets children were clean and in bed, I went to retrieve the clothes from the back porch where I had stripped them down. When I picked the clothes up, they left what looked like chalk outlines at a murder scene. The murder of clean clothes? The whole outfit was once the color of the tiny bit of remaining clean collar. I have them running through a washer full of color safe bleach, so maybe the clothes can be saved. Or maybe not.

*UPDATE* Even though I managed to get the clothes into the wash in a timely manner, they still appear to have some sort of mud funk attached to them. I am currently running them through again, this time heavy on both soap and color safe bleach!