And then it rained. . .

The house is quiet except for the much needed hum of the air conditioner and the sound of Ingrid Michaelson singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow.  It’s late and I should probably go to bed but there are nights–nights like tonight–when I must stop here first.  Some might label it compulsion.  Or an obsession–my need to stop here.  However, I see it simply as a commitment to document our life.  The special moments that, if not written here, might be overlooked as just a typical evening.   

It inevitably happens every summer.  A surprise gift at the end of the day.  Unexpected.  Unsolicited.  Unplanned and unbelievably memorable.  I recall it happening here  and again here and here.  And it happened once again tonight. 

After spending most of our morning hours outside, the kids and I took shelter inside from the hot and humid day for much of the afternoon.  But late afternoon I ushered all three of them back outside and immediately the stifling heat attacked us.  I looked at the temperature and saw that it was close to 90 degrees with high humidity.  (Good mothering, I know.) Charlie and Chanelle immediately asked if we could get the sprinkler out.

Somehow, we have made it this far into the summer and not yet run through the sprinklers sprays.  Meadow was a bit hesitant at first, but it didn’t take long. . .

I sat just feet away from the waters spray and took in the sights and sounds of my little ones fully living in the moment.  I smiled and laughed and cheered them on as the sun beat down her harsh rays on my skin.  I sat and wondered why we had waited so long to get the sprinkler out.

They marched through the water, experimented with the sprays, and did what kids so naturally do.  Meadow raced back and forth between the sprays and me as if saying in her I-don’t-talk-yet-but-I-understand-everything-you-say way. . . look at me Mama!  Look at me!!

I was enjoying the show so much that I barely noticed the way the clouds had overtaken the sky until it started to rain. . .

I’m not talking the drip. . . drip. . . drip kind of rain.  I’m talking the dripdripdripdripdripdripdripdripdripdripdripdripdripdripdrip kind of rain.  Big, huge droplets racing toward the ground at lightening speed soaking every inch of the ground in seconds. 

It. Was. Glorious.

Until the rain turned into a thunderstorm.  Charlie, Chanelle, Meadow and I cleaned up the yard in record time and quickly made our way into the house.  Thunder boomed and lightening crackled in the sky while the kids tore off their wet clothes and replaced them with warm dry ones. 

Remember that scene in the movie Forrest Gump?  The scene where it rains and rains all different kinds of rain for days and weeks and maybe even months?  You know the one?  Sideways rain? Upside down rain?  But then suddenly, out of nowhere, the rain just stops? 

That’s what happened tonight.  Before all of the wet clothes were replaced with dry ones–the rain just stopped.  It took only moments before they raced out the door, kicked off their boots and  made their way to their favorite ‘after rain’ place. . .

Miss Nancy’s puddle. 

Like moths to a flame they just can’t help themselves.  In their mind, it’s like having a pool right next door. Pure bliss.

It was during this time that Chad returned home to help document the events. . .

. . . or partake in them. . .

These nights.  These nights with unexpected downpours and sopping wet kids.  These nights when laughter fills the air and the pounding of bare feet splashing in puddles of water sound much like music.  These nights that come so unexpectedly and gift us with memories that will last a lifetime.  These nights when it rains a beautiful summer rain. . .

. . . these are the nights I want to remember.