When I was just 14, my friends and I had a brilliant idea: we decided to launch a summer camp right in our own neighborhood. We traipsed around, dashing from door to door on the blistering Texas pavement, handing out pamphlets we printed on a dot-matrix printer. Our goal? To persuade parents to send their kids to our Fun in the Sun (FITS, for short) program every Monday.
Back in the ’90s, we charged a mere $10 a day for a camp hosted at my house, with my mom keeping a watchful eye. Most of the parents already knew us from our swim team days, so it was an easy sell.
That summer, we had 25 kids running around, creating homemade movies with a suitcase-sized camcorder, playing soccer on our sticker-burr-infested lawn, and racing to finish Popsicles before they dripped all over the place.
As the summer ended, with school supplies reappearing in closets and pool crowds thinning out, we decided to throw a grand “end-of-camp bash” for the kids and their families. We involved the campers in every detail, from selecting tablecloth colors to crafting a massive blue Jello-filled aquarium that would serve as both our centerpiece and a refreshing snack.
Just as the celebration was set to kick off, a summer storm rolled in, unleashing dime-sized raindrops and gusts of wind that could rival a hurricane. As the rain soaked our decorations, all the moms dashed from their cars to the garage like seagulls flocking to breadcrumbs.
Except for one mom. She stood with her kids in the rain, dancing as if an invisible umbrella sheltered her from the downpour. The sheer joy on her children’s faces was unforgettable. Even as a teenager, I knew then that I wanted to be the kind of mom who would dance in the rain someday.
Fast forward 20 years, and I’m now a busy mom to two little girls, ages 5 and 3. I juggle a full-time job, playdates, school projects, and soccer practice. One evening, after an extended dinner at my parents’ house, I was hurrying the girls to the car when my mischievous five-year-old made a beeline for the outside faucet and cranked the sprinkler on. Water shot into the air, creating rainbows as both girls twirled beneath the spray, fully clothed.
I turned to them, ready to launch into a list of reasons why playing in the sprinkler was a bad idea. (It’s almost bedtime! You’re not in your swimsuits! The car will get soaked! You have school tomorrow!) But then something stopped me.
“Be the kind of mom who dances in the rain,” I thought. I dropped my purse in the grass and rushed into the mist with them, their shock morphing into pure delight as we danced together in our dinner clothes. It was absolutely perfect!
Of course, not every moment can be so carefree. We have schedules to adhere to, people to meet, baths to take, and sleep to catch up on. And let’s not forget about those well-deserved glasses of wine and binge-watching “Project Runway” after long days.
Still, I’m embracing this mantra with renewed enthusiasm: “Be the kind of mom who dances in the rain.” If you’re looking for more inspiration, check out this great resource on pregnancy and home insemination. For those seeking guidance on how to navigate this journey, the Home Insemination Kit offers fantastic insights as well.
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Summary
This piece reflects on the joys of embracing spontaneity in parenting through the lens of a childhood memory. The author recalls a summer camp experience that taught her the importance of enjoying life’s simple moments, exemplified by a mother dancing in the rain. Today, as a busy mom, she strives to embody that same carefree spirit, reminding herself to embrace the joy in unexpected moments with her children.