It is finally time for our little family to enter the land of Playground Politics. Can you believe it has taken us this long? Pants is 2 1/2 and Cheeks is 8 months old.
We have a new park in our neighborhood. Actually, it's a revitalized old park. Hurricane Katrina destroyed the little playground in Bayou View, which is our neighborhood, which then proceeded to just sit there, all broken and collapsing for the next year. After discovering that no one was planning on fixing it anytime soon, a local resident started a campaign to rebuild the park, got the Junior Auxiliary involved, and viola-- a brand spanking new state-of-the-art park!
So now we have to go. All the time.
Amazingly enough, we have never had the opportunity to really be a playground-going family until now. When we lived in New Orleans, we went to the zoo or Audubon Park, but usually steered clear of the playground because I would see rats there at night, jumping around the trash cans. Not that we hung out at the playground at night-- I would see them from St. Charles Ave. as we passed. Ugh.
When we moved to Long Beach, Mississippi, I was all geared up to be a playground-going mom. Pants was just turning one, so it was perfect timing. Unfortunately, we went all of twice before the hurricane wiped out all of the playgrounds a couple of months later. Another reprieve from the dangerous world of "playground politics" I had heard so much about so far in my young motherhood.
Now there is no more denying it: the time has come to go to the playground. Insert booming "dah duh daaaaaahhhhh" music here.
The new Bayou View Park playground opened last weekend. We missed the big celebration (bands, food, face painting extravaganza!), but did start going in the evenings this week. Well, Al or my brother started taking Pants, I should say. For very pathetic reasons (I wanted to wash a cute outfit, okay?!), I didn't go until Tuesday evening. Yes, my official coming out event!
All that hoopla, and I didn't see a single cute mom to chat up in the whole damn park. As we were there during dinner hours, it was just an odd mix of frumpy moms and their sort of loopy kids, none of which looked like they would want to visit. None of which looked like they even wanted to smile. Just a spotty sea of dirty faces and grubby clothes. Hmmm, where were the moms like me? Is all of this "playground politics" talk involving cliques just an urban myth aimed at keeping playground overcrowding at bay?
So today, on my errand-running way and brief escape from the house sans-kids, I decided to drive by the playground during what I figured would be peak stay-at-home mom hours and see if I could spot any potential like-minded moms. Yes, I was cruising the park for mommy friends.
Hopes high and a hint of butterflies in my stomach, I turned the corner and was awed by the sight before me:
a playground full of pinks and blues, bright yellows and greens! Polka dot hair ribbons (the little girls) and neapolitan-striped diaper bags! As I passed, the clouds parted and a shaft of sunlight shone from the heavens onto a park bench of young moms in jeans and cute solid color tees, cradling babies and drinking what looked suspiciously like coffee! I had found them-- a playground of normal-looking moms and cute kids! They do exist!
And then I saw them. On a bench across the playground-- those frumpy moms with the unbrushed hair and dingy-looking clothes. The ones that won't smile and just sort of bark at their kids. And then it hit me: I will totally perpetuate playground politics. I already am and my feet haven't even hit the rubber mulch yet. I am passing judgment on these moms and their kids and not only do I not even know them, I can hardly even see them.
It was a drive-by judgment passing. And I was a virtual sharp-shooter.
You've got to understand, we haven't had any real friends since we moved here. The hurricane just wiped out all friend-making outlets. Take that, along with very limited amounts of time, and I am simultaneously eager for friends and also carefully selective in how I'll want to spend time in my friend-making efforts, both on my behalf and Pants & Cheeks's. I'd just as soon start out with moms and kids more like us. Not clones, but at least a little like-minded. Hence, the rampant assumptions and judgment calls.
I am quite aware of what happens when you assume anything, though.
Nevertheless, Project Friend Discovery is scheduled to officially begin tomorrow around 10 am. We are going to cute ourselves up and head over to the playground. Open minds in tow and attitudes in check. I'll try to holster my sharp-shooter this time. I'll try.
P.S. I hasten to add that those grungy moms I mentioned are not grungy in a cool, laid-back way, but rather in a "I hate my life and can barely tolerate being a mom" way. Big difference. I mean, I'm not that snotty. By the way, I wear neither polka dots nor neapolitan-striped diaper bags. Nevertheless, there you have it.