Deserted Playground

Ten o’clock in the morning is a lonely time for a playground. It doesn’t matter the time of year it is or what school schedules look like. It’s just not typically a time when children are out and about. My particular child has the need to get his sillies out at this particular time of day. It wasn’t that long ago this was nap time. This works out for me, too, because it is mid-morning when I find the day at its most brilliant. It’s a pity more people don’t get a chance to enjoy more beautiful spring mornings like this in such a way.

Even though I live in a well-planned and populated typical American suburb, you couldn’t tell. I didn’t realize how many families live in my neighborhood until I took the boys trick-or-treating on Halloween this past year. On any average day there is very little traffic, vehicle or otherwise, almost anytime I happen to go out. The exception around the little cluster of schools at one end of the neighborhood at various times in the morning and afternoon, and that’s over in about an hour. It’s just as well, my family is a little odd. We are happy in our oddity, it’s what makes us unique. We are relatively happy, healthy and well-adjusted despite our respective issues.

At this hour there is nobody around. Nobody is around to pass judgement on my obvious lack of parenting skills, the strange behavior of my children, or even on my children themselves for being different, and they each come by that honestly.

I have a few good memories of going to the park. My parents couldn’t be bothered taking me as often as I take mine. I was the youngest child. There was a fifteen year gap between the next youngest and myself. I honestly can’t blame them. Just when you think your child-rearing days are almost through, someone hands you a baby and you’re expected to start the whole process over again. I can only imagine what that must have felt like, and that could explain a lot of things about my childhood.

I’m doing things quite differently with my own children. My mother worked all of my life. Whether she wanted to or had to remains a mystery. She made it seem horrible. She was seldom in a good mood and a profoundly sad woman. It’s a shame things things turned out the way they did. I’m home for my children when they come home from school, rain or shine. I have a handful of trusted people to help when the need arises. No matter what happens, I will be a real mother to my own children and continue to make the best decisions based on their needs and abilities.

My little family has a rough road ahead. We’ve travelled a rough road to get to where we are. We will be just fine, despite our time at the playground at such odd hours.

One day I’ll have no real legitimate reason to be at the playground. Will beautiful spring mornings be the same? I know I won’t be the same person after I am done raising my children. What will I do with myself after my own nest is empty? I’m just trying to figure out what I’m going to do after I get home from the playground. I guess I’ll do what any other exhausted mother would do in my situation.