Motherhood & Survival Mode

I gently rocked back and forth on the recliner, sipping my morning coffee, listening as the thunder began to roll in and the rain started to fall. The sky was still dark at 6 AM, and the clouds were thick and grey. 

Meanwhile, a 26 by 26-foot circle dug out in the backyard that marks the resting place for our new pool was filling with rain.

The dog scratched at my daughter's bedroom door—potty time. I freed the husky from the dark room where her teenage "momma" slept, oblivious to her pet's needs. 

I put Daisy on a leash and walked her outside to relieve herself. 

My eyes landed on the circle, now a giant mud puddle. My inner child begged me to play. I could see myself splashing in the milky chocolate-colored rainwater that mixed with Mother Earth.

I quickly went inside and asked my husband if he wanted to join me. He wasn't interested. At the same time, my 14-year-old son was walking down the hallway and heard what I had said. He quickly ended the video call with his soul brother, "Hey, I'll call you back in 20 minutes. I have something important to do with my mom!"

Nathen and I (who I swear was my imaginary best friend when I was a kid) raced to the end of the grass where the circle began. We stepped in, sinking our bare feet into the soft mud several inches below the rain. 

We squealed. We laughed. We splashed each other. We pressed our hands into the ground, scooping up fistfuls of mud. The rain started pouring as if applauding the experience and memory in the making.

In that moment, there was absolutely nothing I wanted. I desired nothing. I needed nothing. My heart was over the top full.

While cleaning up from the mud play, I thought about a session with a client yesterday.

She expressed to me in different ways how life had become stressful, heavy, and uncomfortable. There was so much pressure to "get it all done and to do it right!" In a moment of truth, she said she could feel her inner child trying to get her attention, asking her to play. She felt so tied to the responsibilities of adulthood, motherhood, wife, business, and life that play was the last thing on her to-do list.

This session spoke to me. I felt it and knew it was a message for me, too.

I thought about how it might also be a forgotten responsibility to demonstrate to our children that adulthood doesn't mean that child-like play ends, and it's one of the gifts and joys of having a life.

Are you suffering the symptoms of being malnourished in genuine play with nature? 

If you are, I invite you to go outside and play!