The Imperfect Parent - Articles || Imperfections

Today, I have decided to share a tale of betrayal, love and thunderstorms. The story starts with well-meaning intentions. It was an unusually hot, June day in flyover country; the boys were bored so I suggested we take the bike trailer and Schwinn for a spin down our local bike trail. It started out innocently enough -- bright sun, shorts weather. As soon as we pulled out of our driveway -- thunder. Loud thunder. Ominous clouds. The neighbor shouts to me, "I hope you're not planning to go far (you idiot)?"

My oldest, Holden immediately ran for cover, refusing to go. (See Phobias column for explanation.) He is girlishly afraid of thunder and rain, and it doesn't take much for him to back out of a bike riding commitment. Even fluffy clouds leave him skeptical.

My youngest, Graham, didn't care -- he, on the other hand, was blissfully unaware. He was safely insulated in the new Schwinn trailer we just bought to cart his preschooler ass around. So, off we went while Holden decided to stay home with Dad under the cover of safety and where a basement was accessible in case of a possible F5 tornado emergency. After a few blocks, I felt a drop...then another...then tablespoons of water one right after another. It was what we call a "Florida rain". Although we returned to the safe refuge of our garage, the rain passed by quickly and the sun poked out again. I was feeling good, feeling as if we dodged a bullet and was cautiously optimistic.

"I think this was a rain quickie. It looks like its blown over and that our bike ride plans are back on! Put 'er der!", as I opened my palm for a high five.

This time Holden agreed to set out on our two-wheelers once again. He was hesitant, but I assured him that we were in the clear. We usually go on the same route, one that leads us down the bike path to an expressway underpass where we peddle our way over a very bumpy bridge and make the, "uhauahuahuahuaha" sound the whole way. We didn't get that far this time. As someone who possesses skill to have luck as bad as I do, it started raining and storming with lightning and thunder in an enormous display of Mother Nature rage. Holden was worried and he felt betrayed. I had promised (well, maybe not promised) that he was in the clear and here I led him into his own personal hell.

To minimize the emotional damage on the way home, I pulled over and closed the plastic flap on the trailer, so Graham was immune to the downfall and told Holden that we would make a game of it. I explained that some people loved to walk in the rain; so much so that Shirley Temple sang a song about it.

"She's old." I said, "And dead..." I thought to myself, but decided to withhold that bit of information from this very sensitive boy.

"She was a child actor who made a movie about walking in the rain and having fun with it. I always liked her and her movies, and as a child, like you, she inspired me to go out whenever it rained and sing and dance my way down Pebblebrook Lane.

As I started to forget the words and trail off, Holden pleaded with me to keep singing. We passed other weary bikers and joggers, some of which were in it for the long haul. No amount of tornadic action to stop their determined bodies from making their short term goal. Some managed to smile, especially those that remembered watching black and white movies when it was the only choice between Banana Splits and The Gong Show.

Finally, off in the distance, were bikers seeking cover under a large gazebo by the river. "Hey, look Holden, we might be rescued yet, follow me!"

We quickly rode into the gazebo, where we were greeted by two men were staring at the clouds. Holden was nervous and shaking. I assured him once again that we were going to be okay, this rain would pass too, just like the rain earlier that day. Of course, right at that moment it turned into a full-fledge storm, complete with flash flooding, and the two men smiled at me sarcastically.

Thank goodness I brought my treasured pink cell phone -- a mother's day gift I can actually use -- with me and used it to call my husband at home.

"We're stuck underneath the First Street gazebo. Come get Holden, he's not diggin' this at all!"

"I will, but dinners BBQ has been washed out too, I have to put the chicken in the oven, but I'll come get you guys right afterwards, about 15 minutes or so..." he explained.

"He'll be here soon sweetie", I said looking down on those pitiful puppy dog eyes, "Do you want to get in the bike trailer and I'll close it all up? You'll be safe there."

Meanwhile, Graham was out of the trailer with the flag he managed to pry out of its place, marching in time around the picnic table. The gentlemen who were stranded with us chuckled and said; "He hasn't a worry in the world. He doesn't care. Look at him!"

After Holden got into the trailer, Graham followed and they got all giddy inside their little cocoon. Then out of nowhere, a half dressed older couple (who really shouldn't have been half naked) ran from the river's direction with a few beers in hand. Laughing, they explained that they were caught in the rain twice today and this time, they were near a dam in an aluminum canoe, thinking that they were not in a wise situation.

Two, half naked, old people, drinking beer during a lightning storm on a river in an aluminum canoe. "Not wise" are kinder words than I was thinking.

My husband finally came and got Holden and threw his bike in the trunk while I insisted on riding back in the rain. I wanted to be the rain warrior. This was to be my suburban Survivor moment. I took that rain head-on and rode my bike as if it were a Harley, or at least with a Harley attitude. This is no easy attitude to have while towing a toddler trailer.

Unfortunately, it's rained everyday since that infamous washout, so we're still waiting for that promised bike ride. Perhaps if Holden had an umbrella and a song, like I did when I was his age, he would welcome a ride in the rain. I'd say that I'd rent "Just around The Corner" to perhaps bestow upon him the enlightenment of playing in the rain, but somehow I don't think he'd appreciate a curly haired, dimpled face girl, dancing in the rain clad in a skirt the way I did. His loss.