Playgrounds: Not That Fun

I spent more than my fair share of time at playgrounds this summer.  It was a nice summer, the kids wanted to go, easy.  Or that's how it should be.  By July I was looking for those parks that no one else seemed to know about because the social interaction between moms & their kids, moms & me,  and my kids & other kids was becoming more than I could bear.

It seems there are 3 kinds of moms at the park:

Mom 1: Fried
I can relate to this mom.  She has gone to the park as a last resort, since in a larger open space the kid's voices at least seem a little more faint.  This mom is not at the park to play with, relate to or even watch her kids.  The only real predicament she causes for me is whether I should touch her child when they are clearly in impending danger.  This mother also seems to have the most talkative kid at the park.  Since I am also typically fried by the time I get to the park, I don't really want Danny Prattlepants following me around telling me he smashed a frog with the very shoe he's wearing now. If I cannot feign interest in my own children's stories, I certainly can't feign interest in yours.

Mom 2: Helicopter
This is the most incongruous of the moms, because she is also typically dressed a little too cute and made up a little too much for the park at 10:30am.  I find this odd because if you must constantly be within arm's reach of your child, how do you iron your Bermuda shorts & apply makeup perfectly?  I swear these women tie their kids up at home, but I have no proof.  You learn this mom's kid's names first, because she is constantly saying them.   "Augustan, don't touch the mulch.  It's yucky!  Augustan, wait for Mommy! Augustan, no running!"  No, I didn't make that name up, and yes, these women use a lot of words like "yucky" & "icky," must buy Purell by the gallon, and have a designer satchel full of healthful snacks for their little offspring.  Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with being prepared or with feeding your kids healthful things.  It's the need to share how healthful these things are, in that lilting, cheerful, always audible voice.  "Okay, Augustan, do you want an organic carrot & apple squeezy or whole wheat crackers with low fat cheese?"  Neither.  He wants Oreos.  So I  have begun bringing snacks I don't otherwise let my kids eat to the park, partly because I think it's funny to watch the Helicopter's appalled faces as my kid gobbles down fruit snacks, but also because it makes her life hell because her kid, of course, wants some.  Diabolical, I know.  

Mom 3: Cliquer
These women are only at the park with other moms.  The same other moms.  At the same time of day each time, the same day each week.  She may break into a dead sweat should she be the first to arrive.  Kind of like the people who can't meet you at the bar because they don't know how to stand there & order a drink alone.  She has beady eyes, darting glances, and spends most of her time at the park speaking to her clique under her breath about (I presume) the other moms.  I can't be sure because she never leaves the safety of her same picnic table where they always meet.  If I cared just a little more I'd have made it a point to observe what day/time they were at a park and would  have parked my ass at their table, just to watch her go into a squirrel-like tizzy with all the mind-reeling change she was facing.  But, alas, I don't care enough to do that much planning.  

The interaction between these women is so fun to watch.  When a Fried's kid gets into it with a Helicopter's kid, there are exasperated glances from the Helicopter to the Fried because she's right there, hovering of course, and is the only one doing anything about it because Fried is staring off into space, inevitably pondering how she ended up here.  I assume the Helicopter's child will be awesome at handling conflict later, since he hasn't gone down a slide without holding her hand, much less actually having to solve a problem with another child, in all his 3-years of life.

When a Helicopter's kid gets into it with a Cliquer, that's the most fun for me.  The Cliquer rolls her eyes & talks to her friends, hoping the issue just goes away.  But Helicopters don't go away, ever.  Just ask their kids.  So the helicopter comes over to the Cliquer & her friends, and says something passive-aggressive like, "I'm not sure if you noticed, but your son pushed little Augustan here, and he hasn't apologized.  Augustan seems fine, but I'm sure you're not comfortable with your son pushing."  So the cliquer goes over and forces her son to apologize, and then spends the rest of the time at the playground talking about the Helicopter.

So, what kind of mom am I? Obviously the only normal one.  Just don't ask the other moms at the park.