park park park park

Who knew that the dress code for mothers at my neighborhood park is cropped denim or khaki pants, a pastel button down shirt or form fitted pastel tee shirt, and leather sandals (often platform or with a little heal)? Not me. I got up this morning, a little tired after a great evening out with some very cool mamas, and put on some yoga pants and an old tee shirt and ratty running shoes. In a rare occurrence, I didn’t have much work to do and Jason had left for work and it was beautiful outside. So, I put the boy in the stroller and we headed out for a nice walk that would land us at the park. Ug. The 20+ homogenous moms and toddlers with their loud proclamations and organized snacks was just what I didn’t need. I am generally social and pretty self-sufficient but I felt trapped and way out of place. Henry had a good time of course but I was nervous when he would pick up another kid’s toy or when he sat in the wooden car for too long while other parents loudly told their whining children to wait and they could have a turn soon. Fuck if I know toddler park etiquette. So, no more spontaneous park visits for us, at least not without out someone for me to talk with and distract me from what felt like a junior high party at which I was the new kid in town. I am probably being a bit melodramatic but seriously, who are these women?

Last night, I was talking to Nonlinear Girl and Bridger Mama about the inevitability of mama guilt and I think that’s what hit me this morning. The park moms (and a couple of nannies) were so organized and put together. They were doing their jobs. As someone whose schedule is so variable that I might be at the office, working from home, on a conference call, taking care of Henry, cleaning the house, grocery shopping, etc. on any given morning or afternoon, I don’t have organized park dates or playgroups or music classes or preschool. I am lucky that I get to spend so much time with my son and my husband, and do work that is fairly interesting, and do much of both out of our comfortable home. But, it is hard to feel like I have any of it down all that well. It’s constant juggling and balancing and I never know exactly what part I should be playing when. I let myself fall into a comparisons trap on many levels today and I have to figure out how not to. Maybe avoiding the park is the right answer and maybe not.

Note: just so you don’t think I’m selfish and crazy and denying my kid the joys of the park because of my own neuroses, Henry goes to another park with my mom several times a week and Jason and I get out with him on the weekends. He also plays in our yard constantly. It’s just the full-time mom clubs I may need to avoid until I can get some more perspective on the issue.