Does it Rain in the Pacific Northwest?

Annual precipitation for the state of Washington is between 35 and 45 inches. That's like, a lot of inches- by the way.

Here's another statistic for you- If there is rain coming from the sky, 100% of the time, Avery has a gargantuan sized meltdown. Let me bring it a little more into perspective for you. We LIVE. RESIDE. INHABIT. DWELL. BIDE. HANG ONE'S HAT in Washington state. And as much as I would love to win the lottery and move somewhere tropical, our current residency is not changing anytime soon.

So now we must ask the question, what do we do about the rain? Which, by the way, on average, it rains between 150 and 190 days a year here. Some of you might be saying, "Well great, good for you, you have at LEAST 175 good days a year then, what are you complaining about?"

...

Now let me walk you through what must be done in order for Avery to have a successful ANYTHING outside of the house on a rainy day.

Besides the obvious rain boots, umbrella (which yes, makes us look like Pacific Northwest Posers,) and a raincoat, I am now putting LITTLE SHOE COVERS OVER HER SHOES. You know, the ones from all of the doctor shows that you throw away after surgery? Yup, so my completely rational child is leaving the house in her coat, boots, blanket in a trash bag so it doesn't get wet, extra pair of dry clothes for later, and bright blue plastic shoe booties.

What Avery is not understanding is that shoes were invented to protect our feet. DESIGNED to keep our feet dry and warm and all of the nice things.

Now, my biggest issue currently is getting that tiny fool onto the bus in the morning for school AND THEN from the back door of said school to my car. The in-between is every man for himself. No matter how much prepping I do with zipped up jackets and tight hoods, the MOMENT a drop touches her shoes (or clothing, but that's a different battle,) she deems her shoes "TOO WET, MOM!" The only thing that makes her brain feel better is to take off her shoes and socks until she deems them dry enough. Sadly on a ten minute bus-ride, her shoes are not able to air-dry enough. That being said, when she rolls up to the school, her teacher is having to take her by WAGON from the bus and into the school- while also carrying with her a backpack, shoes, socks, straws, Catboy, and a blanket in a trash bag. None of that is including the actual child, sitting in the wagon like a Kardashian, screaming because she thinks she's being melted by the rain. They really aren't paid enough.

So what have I done? Tried rationalizing with an autistic seven year old- nope. Planted "dry" shoes at school to change into- nuh-uh. Gotten shoes that can be wiped dry- negative. Carried her each way- over my dead body.

Earlier this week I cracked. So I guess now the Autism fund covers packs of little plastic disposable booties. Im going to be the Oprah of shoe covers. You get a pack! You get a pack! You see Avery once a year? YOU GET A PACK! (You know, just in case its one of those 190 rainy days.)

Im not above looking like a lunatic to make my kids comfortable, but at what point do I draw the line? Someday I'll write a post with a dictionary version of all of Avery's quirks that we work around and you all will be BEGGING for a TLC show. It'll have things like "last bite," where she casually spits out every last bite of food she takes, or "too floppy" when her pants or dresses are flowy, or when she can sense that the panty door is open from her room upstairs and will not rest until she KNOWS its closed, or when she yells "too old!" at friendly old people she sees, or when she runs away screaming from any men with beards, or when presented with a sea of straws, she knows EXACTLY which one is missing and lays on the floor until I pull it out of thin air... exhausted yet?

At the end of the day, the length at which I would go to give Avery her very best life is endless (obviously.) However, I am also starting to believe that the length at which Avery would go to drive me to the loony-bin is JUUUUST as endless.

So with rainy season at our heels (figuratively and for Avery, literally,) pray for us. I am open to any and all suggestions for anything short of having our very own 'Bubble Girl,' though I am not opposed to beta-testing with one of those big blow up balls that people roll down big hills in.

Grab your umbrellas and plastic shoe booties, friends, we are in for a long rainy season. This is Bekah, reporting your weather live from the Knoble household- out.