The Playground

Month 15: Week 15: Day 7

Let’s be clear, Hayes’s deliriums rarely stretch past 1am anymore. So I’m not usually awake at 4 in the morning. But sleep, that precious commodity, has been pushed aside in these wee hours, for a little reflection on the pains of parenting, even though I’m totally pooped from pilates and a day at the playground. Here's the story:

I show up to pilates with Hayes, Stacey, a mommy-friend of mine, and her son Kimani with plans for Stacey to watch the two tots in exchange for the luxury of an hour-long private lesson. And then we switch.

We found a playground on 17th between 8th and 9th. It’s small, contained but has way too much going on in the way of crazies and potty-mouthed, weed-smoking teenagers to look after more than one fascinated-by-the-world toddler without half losing your mind. Kimani was really into everyone else’s bike and ball, which annoyed the big boys. Hayes enjoyed chasing the birds, playing a strange solitary game of catch-me-if-you-can, and shoving all kinds of dirty matter into in his mouth, which only annoyed me. {The last thing either of us needs is another public poop out.} It was hectic although I tried to appear the calm-and-in-control-mom-on-the-playground type I strive to be. However the façade didn’t last long.

The park closed before Stacey’s lesson was over. So I was left to peddle the two hungry, overtired toddlers down three city blocks with two separate strollers in my hands to meet my mommy-friend. {Nearly impossible, by the way.} One stroller folded nicely inside the other, and Hayes was comfy and semi-content being chauffered around. Kimani and I, on the other hand, were clearly not so well. Toddlers can’t pull off hungry or tired with any ease. And the combination is usually unbearable for all involved. While Kimani screamed for his mom, I tried desperately to keep some semblance of I've got it all under control-ness.

Sometimes being a parent is just painful. Amidst the jeers and stares of baby-less strangers, I thwarted refusals to hold my hand and bouts of hysteria with distraction. {Isn’t that what all the good books say to do?} I pointed out the garbage truck and motorcycles and any other bright, loud thing that caught my eye. We stopped on every block and I held him…a lot. I assured him in my best “everything’s going to be alright” voice that he would soon see his mommy. Of course nothing worked. I only half-believed it would anyway. And I can admit there was a part of me that was just playing the sane adult role for the spectacle. Afterall, there is little one can do for those whose wiring is not all connected upstairs. {referring to every toddler on the face of the earth.} I knew that only Stacey’s presence would satisfy him—so unfortunately for the both of us that meant three hot, long, excruciating blocks. {Life is soooooo unfair.} So after another day balancing work and mommyhood, pilates and that awful 17th street playground I’m the one who can't rest. {Just shoot me.} *Ket!...It’s 4:30am!

*Kreyol Word of the Day: Ket /ket/--damn! damn! damn!