Dear Momma at The Playground,
I sighed when your rickety suburban pulled up as we were unloading our car at the park this morning. The doors opened and out poured noisy children of varying ages in rumpled clothing, each with a package of poptarts and a capri sun in-hand. You hopped out, a cigarette in your lips, Sponge Bob pajama pants, your smart phone in front of your face, and a large butterfly emblazoned across your lower back. “Great,” I thought sarcastically. You put out your cigarette, put your phone in your car, and did something I didn’t expect you to do- you walked down the hill to the playground and played. You played with all five of the children that you had brought along. You did the monkey bars and the slides and the merri-go-round. And when you had tired, you walked to the shade and proceeded to pick up trash that had been left around the grounds of the park. We made small talk about the state of the park- it has been a rainy spring, and the floods have brought in lots of garbage. You mentioned that you and your children and step-children spend too much time at the local parks to allow them to become a dumping ground, so you make it a point to clean them up while the kids play. You spoke fondly of each of the kids, who were polite and helpful to my own children even though they were a bit younger. You mentioned one of the girl’s was a special needs child, and another still was at physical therapy for a disability. And we briefly mentioned that mothering a child- any child- was just so… hard some days. We didn’t talk about it at length, but instead just let it hang there in the air, as though a cloud, holding our silent daily struggles with shepherding little humans. But, we agreed, the least we could do was make sure they wouldn’t need a tetanus shot after playing at the park, and so together, we created a pile. Just a little pile of junk- paper cups, water bottle lids, straws, broken glass, and various wrappers. And somehow it felt very cathartic, this process of removing the unclean, the harmful, and placing it into a pile. Together we cleared the park of debris as our children played happily. We didn’t know each other’s names, or stories, and despite our obvious differences, we worked together with a common goal in mind: to make a safe place for our children. And when it was time for you to go, you thanked me for helping, called to your kids, and they politely told us good bye and have a nice day. And I wish I had apologized right then and there for judging you. I wish I had admitted to you that I’m a complete hypocrite who thinks she’s incredibly tolerant, but apparently can’t even handle a little cigarette smoke and processed food at the park. I wish I had told you how impressed I was by the manners of your children, and grateful that there are other mommas in this town who give a damn about where our children spend their time and whether or not it’s safe for them. Because it’s so rare, momma. It’s so rare to find women working together to build up each other and their families instead of tearing them down. Embracing their differences instead of judging them for their choices in snacks and park attire… I hope we can still be on the same team.
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AuthorMy name is Chelsea. Redeemed. Wife. Mommy. Photographer. Light Chaser. I hope you find light here too. Archives
January 2016
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