At the age of 14, my friends and I decided to embark on an adventure by launching a summer camp in our neighborhood. We ventured door-to-door across the blistering Texas pavement, distributing pamphlets printed on a dot-matrix printer, aiming to persuade parents to let their children join our Fun in the Sun (FITS) program every Monday.
It was the 1990s, and we charged a mere $10 per day for a camp held at my home, under the attentive eye of my mom. Most parents recognized us from the local swim team, making our pitch quite effective.
That summer, we managed to host 25 kids, spending our days filming homemade movies with a small camcorder, playing soccer on our dusty, sticker-burr-ridden lawn, and racing to consume Popsicles before they dripped all over our hands. As summer came to a close, we decided to celebrate with a grand “end-of-camp bash” for the campers and their families.
We meticulously organized every detail of the event, from the color of the tablecloths to a massive blue Jello-filled aquarium that would serve as both a centerpiece and a treat. Just as the party was set to begin, a sudden summer storm rolled in, unleashing heavy raindrops and gusty winds.
As the rain soaked our decorations, parents rushed to the garage like seagulls to breadcrumbs. However, one mother chose to embrace the moment. She joined her children in the rain, dancing joyfully as if an invisible umbrella shielded her from the downpour. I will never forget the beaming smiles on her children’s faces. That day, I resolved to be the kind of mother who dances in the rain.
Fast forward two decades: I now find myself as a busy mom to two little girls, ages 5 and 3, juggling a full-time job with playdates, school projects, and soccer practices. After a family dinner at my parents’ house, we stayed longer than planned.
As I hurried my girls to the car, my playful five-year-old dashed to the outdoor faucet and turned on the sprinkler. Water shot into the air, creating little rainbows against the evening sky, and both girls twirled around, fully clothed.
I initially prepared to list all the reasons why they shouldn’t play outside right now: It’s nearly bedtime! You aren’t in your swimsuits! The car will get soaked! You have school tomorrow! But 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 my daughters in the sprinkler, their expressions shifting from surprise to pure joy as we danced together in our dinner attire. The moment felt perfect.
While not every day allows for such spontaneity, with schedules to adhere to and routines to maintain, I am committed to adopting this mantra as a guiding principle: “Be the kind of mom who will dance in the rain.”
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Summary
This piece reflects on the importance of seizing joyful moments in the chaos of motherhood. It recounts a nostalgic childhood experience of running a summer camp and highlights the author’s commitment to embracing spontaneity as a mother. Through a vivid anecdote, the author reaffirms the value of finding joy in unexpected situations, encouraging other parents to do the same.
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