Back when I was 14, my friends and I decided to launch a neighborhood summer camp. We trudged across the sweltering Texas pavement, distributing pamphlets printed on a dot-matrix printer, all designed to persuade parents to let their kids join our Fun in the Sun (FITS, as we dubbed it) program every Monday. It was the 1990s, and we charged a mere $10 per day for a camp hosted at my house, supervised by my mom, who was already familiar with most of the parents from swim team. It was an easy sell.
That summer, we entertained 25 kids, creating homemade films with a suitcase-sized camcorder, playing soccer on our sticker-burr-laden lawn, and trying to devour Popsicles before they turned into puddles. As the summer waned, with pool parties dwindling and back-to-school clothes filling closets, we organized a grand “end-of-camp celebration” for the campers and their families. Every detail was crafted with care, from the color of the tablecloths to a massive aquarium filled with blue Jello that served as both our centerpiece and refreshments.
Just as the celebration was set to kick off, the skies opened up, unleashing a torrential downpour—those dime-sized raindrops and fierce gusts only a perfect summer storm can muster. As our carefully arranged paper plates and napkins morphed from soft pink to vibrant magenta, all the moms dashed from their cars to the garage, much like seagulls flocking to crumbs. But one mom stood out; she joined her kids in the rain, dancing as if an invisible umbrella shielded her from the pesky droplets.
The joy radiating from her children was unforgettable. At that moment, even as a teenager, I made a promise to myself: I wanted to be the kind of mom who would dance in the rain someday.
Fast forward 20 years, and I now find myself a busy mom of two little girls, ages 5 and 3. Balancing a full-time job with playdates, school projects, and soccer practices is no small feat. After an extended family dinner at my parents’ house on a weeknight, I found myself hurrying the girls to the car. That’s when my mischievous five-year-old dashed to the outside faucet and turned on the sprinkler, creating arcs of water that shimmered in the evening light. Both girls, fully dressed, began to twirl beneath the sprays.
I turned to them, ready to list all the reasons they couldn’t possibly play in the sprinkler right now. (It’s almost bedtime! You’re not wearing swimsuits! The car will get soaked! You have school tomorrow!) And then, I paused.
“Be the kind of mom who will dance in the rain,” I reminded myself. I dropped my purse onto the grass and joined them in the refreshing mist. Their expressions shifted from shock to pure delight as we danced together in our dinner clothes. It was perfect.
Not every moment can be spontaneous like this, of course. There are schedules to adhere to, people to meet, baths to take, and yes, glasses of wine to enjoy while catching up on “Project Runway” after a long day. Yet, I’m re-embracing this mantra and striving to live by it as often as I can: “Be the kind of mom who will dance in the rain.”
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In summary, embracing the unexpected moments in parenting can lead to joyful experiences that last a lifetime. The mantra of dancing in the rain serves as a reminder to cherish these fleeting opportunities to connect with our children amidst the busy chaos of life.
Keyphrase: dancing in the rain parenting
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