I’m a good mother. No really, I am! I read to my kids, I give them hugs and kisses when they’re hurt, I go to school assembly when they’re getting ‘Pupil Of The Week’ and blah blah blah and so on and so forth. HOWEVER, whenever I have to push a small child on a swing for more than two minutes, I can’t help but feel I’m completely wasting my life.
[Incidentally, when I have to swing two or more children simultaneously (and, not to show off or anything, I’ve once swung four), I also can’t help but feeling like one of those Plate Spinners at the circus, dashing between each swing, keeping the momentum for each child going so they don’t start shouting “Higher! Higher!! HIGHER!!!” again. Man, that “HIGHER!!!” thing makes me anxious. For one thing, those swings get a terrible speed wobble when pushed too high. For another thing, I’m always worried the swing’ll end up doing one of those ‘Round The World yo-yo tricks. But I digress…]
And so it was with a heavy heart that I saw that the newly refurbished park down the road had a grand total of three swings in two different locations within the park. That put an end to any dream I had of being able to sit in a 360° swivel chair in the middle of the park sipping from a glass freshly-filled from the champagne drinking fountain (which are just a few of the park inventions I have previously blogged about. Two words: Ideas. Person.).
For the record, I had been enjoying that park immensely while it was being refurbished. Oftentimes, I would park the car with the five kids in my care just outside the building site and watch the workmen hard at work talking on their mobile phones. We would chat excitedly about all the new equipment and all the fun we’d have when we could finally go there – which I promised to do the very minute the park was open. It was the best fun I’d ever had at a park because nobody even unclipped their seatbelt, let alone asked me to hold their legs (and their full body weight) while they ‘swung’ across the improbably high monkey-bars or ran in front of an oncoming swing. Nobody tried to sell me a handful of tanbark posing as ‘chips’ and then expected me to eat them. Nobody took their shoes and socks off to go in the sand pit or dipped their arse into a puddle the size of the South China Sea at the bottom of the slide. And most certainly, nobody asked me to push them on the ruddy swing.
So I was just a little disappointed when the park actually opened and we had to get out of the car and go in it.
And of course, within minutes of stepping in the place, I found myself, eyes glazed over, tanbark in my goddamn shoes, simultaneously pushing two children on the swings, with yet another child over on the ‘big swing’ looking at me with imploring eyes.
“Higher! HIGHER!” the children all shouted.
“I’m wasting my fucking life!” I thought to myself. But then I thought about how I could turn it all into a blog post so now I suppose I’m just wasting yours.
The end, by me.
Ah, what a beautiful way for me to procrastinate for several minutes.
You rock!
I have a friend, poor love, who would spend hours pushing kids on swings. I think, once, she even feel asleep while she was doing it.
She has horrible kids; asking her to “push me, push me”.
I just used to play dead when my kids asked. That, or I’d just push them where they stood.
Funny, they don’t go to the swings much now … wonder why? Hmmmm *ponder*
Never thought of playing dead when my kids ask me to push them on the swings. That there is a brilliant idea – but may require substantial therapy bills for the kids later in life… But if I don’t have to push them on the swing, it may be worth it.
Phew! Glad to know I’m not alone in this “hate to push swing” idealism. Seriously, why would I want to stand there and push the darn swings, when I could actually sit and chat with other mums – much more productive! I’ve “trained” my kids ever since they could say “push me mummy” how to “push” themselves. Yes, I’m sooo into training my kids to do stuff themselves, because, hello I can’t always hold their hand in the real world can I? Now, they either avoid them altogether or yes, do it themselves….bliss….
Oh, I have tried to train my kids to swing solo. Lord, how I’ve tried. I’ve spent many hours shouting “Legs out! Legs in! Lean forward! Lean back!” but to no avail… (*sobs*)
Aw – you’re thinking about it all wrong. You can ‘meditate’ while pushing kids on swings. You can think about absolutely nothing at all. Some people pay a fortune to ‘meditate’ in classes. Why pay to waste your life when you can do it for free.
Problem is there are so many activities that I do in a day during which my mind is completely blank. Doing the dishes, hanging out the washing, picking up Lego, writing this blog…
You have successfully described my on horror…and made me a tiny bit phobic. I do everything possible to avoid going to the swings “Was that thunder I heard?”, “Hey, was that your daddy calling you?”, “Y’know, I think I left triple choc muffins on the counter. But someone might steal them if we don’t run home now!” Nevermind that the skies are sunny, that daddy’s at work or that I ate the muffins earlier – if it keeps me from that horrid higher-higher chant, I will say it. Oh yeah, I’m definitely up for Mum of the Year.
Brilliant post! 😉
Good to know I’m not alone. But did you have to eat *all* the triple choc muffins?? (*sobs again*)
This post was a revelation. Here I was thinking it was just me who hates, hates, hates swings, pushing on swings, kids running in front of swings, etc. Thank you for making me feel normal!
You’re very welcome. As long as we all hang out together here on this blog, we can call ourselves “normal”. Let’s never leave this blog again, okay?
Pure poetry… I don’t mind pushing my cherubs, but I do get a bit miffed when other kids wander up and want me to push them whilst their mother stands in their group, letting others do the parenting for them. That’s when I say to the children not of my loins ‘go ask your mum to wipe your nose.’
Pushing other children’s kids on the swings is beyond the call of any mother’s duty. But it may earn you some kind of sainthood and I’ve heard there’s tax benefits for that.
I hate pushing on the swings, but I must say that I have written half my thesis in my head while pushing my daughter on the swings. If only I could remember all my clever sentences once I got home, and had time to sit down and write them. But anyway, I’m sure I solve a lot of my thesis problems (over and over again) while pushing kids on the swings!
What you need to do is hire a scribe to write down your thoughts while you’re pushing the swing… Or they could just push the swing for you and you could go home and write your thesis there.
I even tried taking a dictaphone to the park to capture my brilliance. But then I never had time to actually listen to it when I got home, especially since my brilliance was interrupted by frequent “higher! higher!” or random inane conversation. That and I get stage fright using a dictaphone and can’t think of anything intelligent to say (or is that it sounds so much more intelligent before I said it out loud?)
is it wrong that i feel a similar way about ‘helping’ on all parts of the playground – not just swings?
my preferred position at playgrounds is lying down on the grass, dosing, sipping coffee or reading a book…i do look up every now and then to make sure lord f is alive: i too could be the next ‘mother of the year’, clearly
i tell myself that letting the young lord have undirected play-time is good for him – and for the most part he seems very happy playing by himself or making new friends
(or maybe he’s just given up on me?!)
is that wrong?! 🙂
“Undirected playtime” is the best euphemism for “Minimum Effort Parenting” that I’ve heard. I’ll let my husband (founder of the “MEP” movement) know…
i feel the same way… i could be doing so many more productive things instead of pushing a swing…
and then i just zone out, and i can actually hear myself think for awhile, and it makes me feel better!
one day my two youngest kids will be able to push themselves, and maybe i will miss it?
… or not.
I make the big one push the little ones. Then I hide in a corner with my iPhone. I probably shouldn’t admit that out loud, should I?
YOU HAVE AN IPHONE???
Well if not really enjoying pushing kids on the swing makes you an evil bitch mother from hell then I’m one too.
I don’t mind helping with those fake rock climbing things, or those horrid ropey-chainey-up-a-board thing, but swings… *yawn*.
STxx
*Yawn* indeed.
Of course, a mere three hours after posting this piece, I found myself at another local park, pushing two children at once, thinking “There’s fucking karma for you”.
Guess what Miss 2’s first word was? H-I-G-H-Y-A-H!!!
Oh the joy, and we have a swing in the mango tree in the backyard as well, so the joy can (and is) mine at any time of the day!
I love this. I feel exactly the same way. Our park visits last ten minutes because I. Just. Can’t. Stand. It. Anymore.
The end. By me.
My kids have been trained to know that mummy takes a book to the park and she will only stop reading it if there is blood.
I also brought them up believing that baby food was only ever eaten straight from the jar, cold.
How’s your mother of the year title looking now, huh?
Push you?? Dear Jesus, I drove you here. It’s a playground. Amuse yourselves !!!!
Anyway I like to go on the swing myself and laugh at how much higher I can go than you.
i am so happy you wrote that! i hate the park! there are so many other things that i need/want to be doing instead! sometimes i can get away with bringing a book, but the other parents shoot me dirty looks if i am reading and the boy looks like he is trying to kill himself LOL. and the swing!! arrgghh.. pushing the swing is painful. give me a board game! let me read you a book! you want to watch a movie?? please do!
thank you so much for that post, i would probably never have admitted that LOL
Love it, love it, love it. The post I mean (not parks) and comments. Have been laughing so hard. You should ask your local council re the champagne fountain, hell you should run for council and plan the parks, I bet most mothers would vote for you.