A Day at the Park

This gorgeous spring weather has allowed for many opportunities to play at the park. This is usually how it goes...

We arrive at the park sometime before lunch (anywhere from 10:30-12:00). I will park myself on the best bench I can find. Not necessarily the one closest to the playground, but the one with the best sun. The girls will both instantly proclaim that they are starving and will begin eating the peanut butter sandwiches I have made for them, heading off to the playground with their mouths full of peanut butter. Allie will usually eat all of hers without incident, but Kyla typically drops hers in the sand/mulch/ground up rubber tires at least two or three times before she brings the crusts back to me.

When the sandwiches are gone, both girls will ask to swing. Without fail, I will tell them that swinging is the last thing we are going to do, knowing full well that once they are situated in a swing, I will spend the rest of the park day pushing them. It could go on for hours. I shoo them away with a quick, "Go play!," and they reluctantly head back over to the playground. After 8.5 seconds, Allie is back, announcing that there is nothing fun to do and she sits on the bench next to me. Of course, I ignore her, and continue the conversation I am having on my cell phone. She will eventually get the message, realize that there are 18 slides and 37 other kid friendly toys that she has yet to try, and saunter back to the playground. Meanwhile, I end my fake phone call, and resume the ever important task of people watching, carefully noting just how the other moms at the park are disciplining their kids, telling myself that I would never give into my kids when they are throwing a fit. Which is why the tantrum that Allie is throwing because she can't do the monkey bars by herself will be ignored, because how else will she learn?

After a while, and a little more lunch, I will notice that one of the girls has wandered over to the swings and is looking longingly at the other kids, whose moms are nice enough to push them as soon as they ask. They will try the "belly trick," pretending that they are having fun riding Superman-style. Really, though, they are waiting for one of the "good moms" to offer to push them on the swing, too. I will pry myself from my seat gingerly, because I haven't moved much during the 30 minutes the kids have been playing, and walk over to the swings. Heaven forbid the other moms think that I am neglecting my children (despite the ignoring of the previous tantrum), and will distract the child at the swing by promising that in 5 minutes, after they have finished playing on the playground, I will, in fact, push them on the swing. Usually, this will buy me at least 10-15 more minutes, because thankfully, my girls have no concept of time.

When, at last, I am ready to go, I will announce happily that it is time to get in the swings. Both girls cheer, as though I am the BEST mom in the world, and I will push them for as long as my arms can stand. Usually 2 or 3 minutes. I will removed Kyla from her swing, and tell Allie she needs to find her shoes. She will search the entire playground, and be back in 5.2 seconds, announcing that her shoes are nowhere to be found, and have probably been stolen. I will, of course, check for myself, and will easily locate them under the playground, safe and sound. We will make our way to the van or stroller and go home. As soon as we walk in the house, the girls will announce again that they are starving and need something to eat.

Occasionally, though, things go a little differently. Today, for example, I was sitting on my bench, in full sunlight, actually talking on the phone. I could see Allie from where I was, playing near a statue with some other children, but she was a ways away, and I wasn't giving her my undivided attention. Suddenly, I see her being led toward me by a mom with her young child. The mom asked if Allie was my daughter. Then, she informed me that, "she (Allie) was the one stuck who has been screaming for about five minutes." Apologetically, I told her that I couldn't hear her screaming, and told her thank you for helping her (Allie) out. As she walked away, she gave me some great advice. Rudely, she said, "Maybe you should keep an eye on her."

Yep, it seems like I'm not the only one who watches the other moms and silently judges them. I'm going to try harder not to do that anymore. And we'll be frequenting other parks, where I haven't already earned a reputation as being one of the "bad moms."