On Motherhood: Letting Loose, Embracing Imperfect Parenting and Making Memories (Video)

Remember before kids you imagined the type of parent you would be?  I was amazing...in my head.  

However, then stress comes along, with a handful of frustration and a splash of attitude and all those happy thoughts go out the window?

Hello.  My name is Heather Murphy-Raines and I am about as imperfect as a mom can be.  You too?

Anyone who does not join this club?  They are cheating themselves.  I know this imperfection and doubting my convictions as a parent is what truly does make me march forward, adapting, and yearning to be better for them.

As for my parents, as always there is good and bad.  I truly believe my memories and experiences probably do not compare to what they remember or recall.  I have seen this as fact with my own kids.  They clearly point to shared moments--indicting me--that have me scratching my head and chagrined...hoping that 3-vs-1 does not make it fact!

Still there is one childhood memory that sticks with me.  My mother, when I was four years old, once let me play for hours in a spring outburst of rain.  My little neighborhood friend Kevin and I rolled in warm concrete gutters as the torrential rain sloshed down.  

We splashed, barefoot, stubbing toes and leaving gleefully bloody footprints.  Our dungarees dripped and our bright, colorful umbrellas were for smacking water--not for protection. We slid on green grass until mud appeared and picked everyone's limp, water-trodden roses. 

I am sure other mothers on the street judged my mom for allowing two 4-year-olds to be let loose in a warm spring storm, but for tow headed, lost in a shuffle of four siblings (but soon to be six) and another two (but soon to be five)  foster kids, me? 

It was heaven.

Fast forward thirty-odd years and every once in a while, I let my crazy-I-am-sure-I-will-be-judged-for-this-but-I-don't-give-a-fig mom out.  We eat cake for dinner.  We have rude day where we intentional try to break EVERY etiquette rule possible. Yes, I let my baby girl shave her legs at six and my son have a mohawk at a similar age.  And then there are the puddles...

My mom started something with the puddles.  When I was sixteen and licensed to drive, I spent an entire afternoon with a friend searching out and driving fast through puddles.  Spinning wheelies in puddles. Opening my station wagon's sun roof and trying to angle the puddle into the car. Yes, I obsess about puddles.

So imagine my inner-glee when my kids and I were driving the other day on a suburban street, close to Seattle, where torrential downpours are our middle name. 

There it was.  

THE puddle of all puddles.  

The kids, not knowing of my puddles obsession, look tentatively at me and then at each other.  Brows furrow.  Lips are chewed.  Then she asks, "Mom, can we drive through that puddle again.  Please?"

Oh, honey, you have no idea what you just started. Let the magic begin:

Over and over we drove through that puddle--trying to create a wave so big as for it to get in through our SUV's sun roof or even better, to drench her big brother who volunteered to video.

Oh yes, we embraced that puddle.  We hid when we saw a patrol car drive by, giggling, and then started again.  And again.  And again.

Yes, I revved that engine and we were wet as a water ride:

Yes, I am a bad mom.  This is something that is perfect in it's imperfection. Yes, I embrace it.  And yes, I hope this is a memory that lasts until her daughter looks up to her pleadingly one day and asks, "Again?"

So tell me your imperfect moments with your mom as a child or your child now that you are a mom?  What craziness imperfection have you enjoyed?

'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 2:41 PM