Park for Dummies

‘I heard you don’t do ‘park,’ a friend of mine told me recently. Somehow my notion that going to the park with my kids was like watching paint dry had traveled through the mom network.

“Uh, that’s true,” I stammered, slightly embarrassed. In theory, I love the park – a modern day watering hole where women gather to exchange important information such as where to buy the best chocolate cake or who was kicked off Celebrity Apprentice.

The problem is that the park takes me right back to elementary school, where I was the last kid to be picked for any team sport. Just one mention of kickball and my forehead breaks out in a sweat. Then there are my attempts to make friends with other park moms, which bring me back to junior high school and my inability to be a part of the in-crowd. And last but not least, I get bored.

“I guess I’m just a bad mom,” I confessed to Samantha, “who doesn’t like to watch her kids swing back and forth.”

“The problem is you don’t know how to do park,” she replied. “Come to the park with me someday and I will teach you how to make it work.”

I completely forgot about Samantha’s offer – until it started to rain constantly. When I was pregnant, all I could think about was working out, even though I hate to exercise. Now that it was rainy and cold, I looked at the park longingly, thinking, “If only we could go to the park, it would be so fun.”

Samantha gathered some friends to share their strategies. “I bring my reading materials, cell phone and snacks,” Cathy shared. “I tell my son, “Go say, ‘Hi my name is Stuart, do you want to play?”

“You don’t play with him?” I asked in amazement.

“Oh God, no,” she laughed. “We leave that to the Park Dads, like Surfer Dad. He brings bikes, skateboards and plays with all the kids.”

“It’s also very important to get park dates with other moms lined up,” Samantha added. But I still wasn’t convinced.

Daily park mom Carolyn agreed with me. “Yeah, it’s boring, but it does keep my house clean.”

What? A clean house? That thought had never occurred to me. Dirty the park, not the house. Now I was listening. And with the aid of snacks, friends and Surfer Dad, the park might actually be do-able.

“Let’s get dressed for the park,” I said last Saturday. My daughters looked at me.

“Why?” asked my oldest.

“To play.” After realizing that I was serious, my daughters squealed with delight and ran to put on their shoes.

When we arrived, the park moms were gone. I was without snacks or reading materials. And Surfer Dad was nowhere to be seen.

I called Samantha. “I am trying to do park and it is not going well. Where are you?” She was driving around with a sleeping child in her backseat. Mom Cathy had a sick child. And Mom Lisa was at Home Depot.

Just when I was feeling like a park failure, Lisa and Annie arrived. We chatted about the various germs circulating, which moms cooked for their husbands and how to master the Easy Bake oven.

Doing park wasn’t as much fun as doing lunch, but it certainly felt like an acceptable watering hole for one thirsty mom.