I avoid playgrounds with my son even though there is a perfectly nice one less than a half a mile from our house.
Playgrounds create stress for me, much like everything else. I dread playgrounds — the social hub around here for parents. I’m not the “social hub” type.
When the playground is full I steer past it, simply to avoid adult interaction. I’m sure this is the complete opposite for stay at home moms who crave adult interaction after a long day with their brood.
But my brood are adults, many of them obnoxious adults. By the end of the day I’d rather have conversations that include words like “boo-boo” or “poo” or “dada” and “mama” and maybe even “doggie.” If only 2-year olds could drive themselves the playground. It would be much less stressful for me. I could hang with them and avoid their much more 
“mature” parental devices.
The real reason I hate playgrounds is I worry it will lead me to having to be a tough mom. I’ll have to the be the mom who says “No dear, that’s not your tricycle. You can’t play with it. Now lets go play on the slide. No. No. Let’s go. Nooooow.”
Then I’ll be the mother carrying a screaming, flailing toddler across the parking lot to the car in one arm with a toy car hooked over the other arm, wishing I could sink under the ground where no one could see me.
I don’t want to be the tough mother. That’s why I avoid playgrounds. But Tuesday it was nice out, so I went to one.
And right there was a boy with a tricycle and before I could steer him away, Jonathan saw it. And I had to say, ‘no…yadda, yadda, yadda.” I had to be a tough mama.
I hated it, not because I was embarrassed, but because I am weak. I’m a pushover. I’m a wimp. Like any mother I hate watching my child suffer.
Before long I was able to distract my son with a trip to the slide. Slide riding went well until she came along — cute girl in pink dress. She towered over my tiny boy and a question of her mother later revealed she was the same age as Jonathan.
Looking at her fat little legs, I wondered if it’s true that formula fed babies are fatter than breastfed ones and not in a bad way, just in a factual way. Then I wondered if I’d shortchanged my baby by breastfeeding him. Maybe I hadn’t put enough meat on his bones by not feeding him that fat-producing formula and now he’d grow up to be some brittle-boned little wimp.
Wham.
A second later he roared off the smallest slide there, bending his neck at the oddest angle underneath him. It was such an odd angle that for a moment I thought I had lost him. But he cried and I knew he was alive. He cried for less than thirty seconds, wriggled out of my comforting arms and took off toward one of the tallest slides.
Huh. Guess tough is in the blood, not the milk.
I guess he can be the tough one from now on because that spill dragged my wimp right to the surface.
And I marched right across that playground with a screaming toddler under one arm and a toy car hooked over the other arm. I was the “tough mom” who decided her toddler had had enough — or more accurately that mommy had had enough of watching her daredevil son careen off slides.
Yep, I totally don’t go to the park without my husband. They separate and I am freaking out trying to watch all three of them at the same time. I even get nervous with our little swing set outside. I just know it is going to flip completely over one day even though my kids are to chicken to swing higher than at a ninety degree angel.
The thing that makes me nervous about parks is….other people’s kids. Wait. I mean, other people’s bad-mannered kids. I dreaded the need to intervene when others don’t play fair.
An example: My daughter always wanted to make a new friend. I remember her hopping into a ball pit once and saying to another little girl, “Hi! Will you be my friend?” The girl said no. My little one, found me in the crowd of Mommies and hollered, “She said NO! She doesn’t want to be my friend!” She was so incredulous, and a little hurt. I had to say loudly, “It’s okay, sweetie! You can still have a good time without playing with her!”
Yikes.
it’s easier when they’re older! these days i take them to a playground and hide behind a book. now they can create their own misfortunes, i can’t bear to see how they unfold. and experience has taught me that i usually make it worse when i get involved.
Hey, your breastfed kid may not be pleasantly plump, but I’m sure he scored a few extra IQ points (common sense will kick in later).
And speaking of a mom’s right to be tough, hop over to my post for “Blogger’s Unite for Human Rights.” Not that you need more Mommy Blogger competition…I not really a Mommy Blogger–I just play one when it’s convenient.
You go, J! Don’t let those pesky slides get the best of you, Shug!
I avoid playgrounds when they’re crowded for the simple fact that other parents never seem to watch their kids with any effectiveness. I always end up being the playground police while they all chat it up with one another and I totally miss out on being with my own kid.
Girlfriend, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Wait until he’s 14.
But I promise, when Aunt Kimmy and Uncle Bryan get him his first skateboard, we’ll throw in a helmet. He won’t wear it, but we’ll throw one in.
Kim: He’ll wear it or I’ll beat his butt.
Maybe….
Anna K.
Agreed…Why can’t parents watch their own children..I can’t be their baby sitter…
Meg:
That’s right..he’ll be smarter! I’ll check out your site and the info too…thanks..
Grit:
Next time I’ll take a book. Good idea. But then I’ll worry that some mother will say “Why was she hiding behind a book? She should have been watchin’ her kid when he did that flying leap off the top of the monkey bars and broke his nose.”
Blogget:
That would be awful!
Sarah:
While I have one I will go alone. More than one and Hubby comes along. No way.
Need I remind you that you are raising a BOY? If that incident at the playground brought out the wimp in you, you are toast, my friend, TOAST.
Hi! I’m glad you stumbled on my blog. I’ve enjoyed reading yours. Your Jonathan is adorable. I know what you mean about the playgrounds, I’m a bit of a wimp too.
Hi I found your blog on Mom Bloggers. Love your blog you crack me up. I am so tired of Mom Bloggers getting a bad rap! I dread the playground too but more because my son is 2.5 and thinks he is 13 and able to jump from a 6 foot platform! I am the mom that has to go up on everything w/ him to keep him safe!
Oh! I’m THAT Mum too! Poor Charlie. You sound like a lovely Mum though - but Don’t Fear the Playground! Just think ‘Tiring Him Out Before Bedtime’. The playground is Your Friend…