Mud Puddles and Motherhood — Mud Puddles & Motherhood

Behold the glorious playground mud puddle, a mother’s worst nightmare. It mesmerizes children like a siren, tempting them to dive into its filthy abyss.

Our day began as usual. It was a Tuesday which meant we were heading to the playground for the MOMosa Monday Toddler Tuesday play date I host on St. Croix. The sun was shining after a morning of heavy rains and the grass was a brilliant, inviting shade of green. We walked into the playground to meet our friends and to my horror, there was a GIANT, disgusting mud puddle. It was starring right at me, as if taunting my inner Type A self. You know in the Harry Potter movies, when each of the classmates had to face their biggest fears with the shape shifting boggart? Well this, my HP nerd friends, was my boggart. I immediately picked up my son and took him as far away from the merry go round mud puddle as I could. But just like a magnet, he was being pulled in. Every time I would pick him up, and steer him away, and he would run right back into this putrid puddle.

So at this point I’m at a crossroads, a full on mental war with this mud puddle. What do I do? Do I leave the playground, (and my much-needed social hour with my mom friends) and go home for fear of my child getting dirty, or do I suck it up and see what happens? Biology says some traits are passed along to our offspring through DNA. Well he’s half my DNA, so the fear of dirt could have been passed on right? Exactly, he won’t want to get dirty. These are the thought rushing through my head at that moment.

So against all of my inner turmoil, we stayed at the playground. And my child ran into the mud puddle. Clearly, he inherited this urge from his father.

I felt defeated, I panicked, and my insides did a nosedive. Dozens of neurotransmitters fired messages to my brain: abort, abort!!!

As the thoughts kept racing, I paced back and forth around my child with panic, with anger, with fear. Here I was about to lose it, about to grab my kid and run for the hills, when I stopped myself and took a deep breath. I stopped and looked hard at my child’s face. He was having the time of his life. He was glowing beneath the mud smears and squealing with joy. How could I possibly deny him of this moment of happiness? So I didn’t, and I let my child swim in a cesspool of bacteria.

As my friends arrived at the playground, they were greeted by my child doing the back stroke in the puddle underneath the merry go round. The look of shock came over them as they realized it was my child. No one ever thought my kid would be the one swimming in the mud puddle. I assured them our thoughts were on the exact same page.

So there we have it. This mud puddle, which tormented me internally and ruined my child’s clothes turned out to be my therapist for the day. I really should have thrown money into it as we were leaving.

This puddle taught me to stop and breath. It showed me that I cannot control everything, especially this beautiful little being I have created. He is his own little person, and he has wants and desires that aren’t going to line up with mine, now at 15 months old or in the future. I must let him explore and get dirty. Hell, I finally came to grips that it’s OK to get myself dirty (to a point). He nor I no longer come to the playground with shiny shoes and nice outfits. We are BOTH here to have fun, run around and get dirty.

Life isn’t about sitting on the sidelines worrying about scuffing your shoes. Everyone always says that life’s too short and to live each moment like it’s your last. I always feel like rolling my eyes when I hear that statement, but you know what? Life is way too short to have shiny shoes and no fun. Kids will grow out of those shoes in a month or so, and material objects can be replaced. It’s the curiosity to explore, learn cause and effect, laugh, and have fun that will fill your life with happiness.

Letting go of fears can be life changing. This damn mud puddle was one of the biggest challenges I have faced in my 15 months of motherhood….I find myself untangling the jumble of irrationality in my mind as my child grows and morphs into his own little being. I’m realizing as a mother, that I’m not here just to take care of his needs and wants, but he’s been brought into this earth to guide me into a better version of myself. One mud puddle at a time.