National Muddy Puddle Day

Lately you been very scared and tearful at bedtime, taking a long time to calm and let us leave your room. I love patting your back and singing to you, but I also hate to see you scared and relying on us to stand In your room all night. After a quite frustrating bedtime last night, I happened to read this post, which just seemed to appear before me as most awe inspiring moments do. I read this at a dr appt and came home right after with a refreshed mindset and new outlook. Although it was a bit chilly, I made sure to turn on the sprinkles and let us play In the water to celebrate this day. I have you on this earth and want to always have patience and understanding- and although im not perfect, I work hard to be the constant peace in your life and always want to put myself in your shoes when it comes to your fears or present needs. This blog also spoke to me because since having you, things that before you may have stressed me out, do not anymore. Just the other day you jumped in a muddle purdy slipping and sliding in a brand new, very expensive outfit- but I could've cared less. I stead I snapped photos of your happiness and called on grandma afterwards to help me remove the mud stains. The outfit looks new again, you were thrilled with your experience, and I have photos for life of that happy moment. I love you!

**Article I read**-

"I am the “muddy puddles” mom. But that wasn’t always the case.

On the fourth of July, 2010, I was at a backyard party with my two baby boys. My oldest son, Ty, was 2 at the time, my youngest, Gavin, just 2 months. As the sun went down my friend called me over with a huge smile on his face so I could see what Ty was up to. There he stood, in the middle of a muddy puddle, as wild-eyed and giddy as a kid on Christmas morning.

Inside my head, I wanted to scream. I didn’t have a change of clothes. We had a long drive home. He would get his car seat all dirty. It was too late for a bath, he would go to bed filthy. And to be honest, I was exhausted from chasing him around all day while caring for his baby brother.

On the surface, though, I smiled. I didn’t want to think about the mess even though I couldn’t help it. I wanted to think about the smile in front of me. I tried to let it go and remember that he was just a little boy having the time of his life doing nothing more than splash around in a puddle. I wanted to see the joy and humor in it as the others did around me (sure, they didn’t have to deal with the mess afterward and the whiney toddler who was sure to cry about his wet clothes during the whole ride home).

Turns out that Ty didn’t complain once about his clothes being wet. We got home late, washed his hands and feet as best as we could, let him go to bed dirty and no harm was done. It is now five years later and I can’t express how happy I am that on that day, at that moment, I chose to shake it off and smile. It was the first and last time my son ever had the chance to enjoy that simple rite of passage. I had no idea what was ahead of us.

Less than two months later, Ty was diagnosed with an aggressive brain tumor. The diagnosis was a complete shock. The only reason he was even approved for an MRI was because we suspected headaches when he had trouble sleeping at night, but he was otherwise an unstoppable force on the playground, at the beach, in preschool, etc. A perfectly healthy, happy, energetic little kid. Cancer? Impossible.

For the next two and a half years my son endured 20 surgeries. He spent 260 nights in a hospital bed. He was too weak to ever walk again after his very first treatment; and every time he almost got back on his feet, another set-back put him right back in the hospital bed. Cancer is so just so cruel."

I often watched Gavin growing up under the care of countless friends and family members who had to pitch in so I could be with Ty. I missed out on so much of the normal “babyhood” that a mommy is supposed to experience – but I promise you that when I did experience it, each moment was that much more precious. Every sloppy kiss, every handprint on the window – a treasure. I was forever changed as a parent, and for that I am grateful.

Ty had an adorable little voice, and he would always say he was feeling “all bedda,” even when I knew he was in pain. He didn’t like others to worry about him. One day I asked him, “What do you want to do when you are all bedda for real?”

He answered… “I’m gonna jump in a MUDDY PUDDLE!”

That one simple statement blew my mind. I needed to shout it from the rooftops. I wanted parents everywhere to know that there are hundreds of thousands of children in this world – for one reason or another – who can’t have enjoy some of the most simple joys of childhood. Honor them by stepping back once in a while and letting your kids be kids.