When I was 14, my friends and I came up with the idea to launch a summer camp in our neighborhood. We traversed the blistering Texas pavement, delivering dot-matrix-printed flyers that aimed to persuade parents to let their kids join us every Monday for our Fun in the Sun (FITS, as we fondly called it) program.
It was the 1990s, and we charged just $10 a day for a camp hosted at my house, supervised by my mom, who was familiar with most of the families from swim team. The pitch was simple and effective.
We spent that summer entertaining 25 kids, creating homemade films with a suitcase-sized camcorder, playing soccer on our brown, burr-strewn lawn, and racing to finish Popsicles before they dripped away. As the pool crowds began to thin and back-to-school outfits started to fill closets, we decided to host a grand “end-of-camp party” for our campers and their families.
We collaborated with the kids on every detail of the event, from selecting tablecloth colors to crafting a massive blue Jello-filled aquarium as our centerpiece and drink station. Just as the celebration was about to kick off, a sudden downpour began — the kind of rain that brings dime-sized droplets and gusty winds, typical of a summer storm.
As the rain transformed our paper plates and tablecloths from pale pink to vivid magenta, the mothers rushed from their cars to the garage like seagulls flocking to breadcrumbs. However, one mom stood out; she joined her kids in the rain, dancing as if a magical umbrella protected her from the downpour. The sheer joy on her children’s faces left a lasting impression on me. Even as a teenager, I vowed to become a mother who would dance in the rain someday.
Fast forward 20 years, and I find myself a busy mom of two little girls, ages 5 and 3, striving to juggle a full-time job with playdates, school projects, and soccer practices. After a weeknight dinner at my parents’ house, we lingered longer than planned.
As I hurried the girls to the car, my spirited five-year-old dashed to the outdoor faucet and turned on the sprinkler. Streams of water shot into the sky, creating miniature rainbows against the evening clouds, and both girls, fully dressed, started twirling in delight below.
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! School is tomorrow! — and then, just like that, I paused.
“Be the kind of mom who dances in the rain.” I dropped my purse onto the grass and rushed into the spray with them, their expressions shifting from shock to joy as we danced together in our dinner clothes. It was simply perfect.
Of course, not every moment can be spontaneous like this. We have schedules to maintain, people to see, baths to take, and sleep to catch up on. Plus, there are glasses of wine to enjoy and episodes of “Project Runway” to catch up on after a long day. Nevertheless, I’m re-embracing this mantra and aiming to put it into practice as often as possible: “Be the kind of mom who will dance in the rain.”
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In summary, life can get hectic, but there’s always room to embrace joy in unexpected moments. Whether it’s dancing in the rain or simply finding delight in the little things, being present for our children is what matters most.