Faith
Today's post is about faith. If you feel like you have a very shaky grasp on faith, or don't believe in faith, or anything like that, stick around. You are going to see faith in action.
You see, I have NOTHING TO BLOG ABOUT. Absolutely nothing. I start a thought and either lose it completely or realize it's not a thought worth having and throw it out myself. But I really, really, really want to blog. I love the therapy it's been for me. I love the documentation I have had for nearly the last year of my life. I'm in love with an idea.
I have nothing to write, but I have faith. A hope for things not seen. I believe I can write. I believe I can touch the keyboard. I think about it every night and day, spread my hands and just type away...
I really don't like going to the park. Well, I guess I like the park just fine, 'specially on a nice day like today after such a long cold spell. But park activities mostly annoy me. I don't like pushing kids on swings. I don't like "watching me" every blessed second. I don't like having to get off my rump to retrieve a child from a place she has no business being at her size. Yes, only her. He has more caution than she. I don't like the limited availability of comfortable seating. A butt-splintering picnic table or butt-numbing metal one. With no back support or ottoman. And it gets old looking at the same kids running up and down and around the play structures. If there was a remote, I could find a bit more enjoyment, I'm sure.
When I was in my late teens and early twenties I would take my nieces to the park at times because that is what nice aunts do. And I was most surely a nice aunt. I remember one particular time in Sacramento watching my nieces romp happily around the play area. I was bored out of my mind. I looked around at other moms reading, staring into space, chatting with each other and I thought to myself, "I really hope some kind of maternal thing kicks in with my own kids because this is ridiculously boring and I'm not gonna do this willingly with my own kids." I had genuine concern right then for the future mother Angela. I should have been more worried about how giving birth would eliminate every charitable feeling I had toward children. But who could have known? And notice how the young, naive, childless Angela actually thought going to the park was a choice the mom made? Sweet, sweet girl.
Something maternal did kick in, so that's good. Plus the whole---being trapped in a house with kids for days on ends will do wonders for what becomes desirable to you. But, as I was standing on a pile of wood chips that stealthily crept into my shoes and down my socks, and up my shirt and stabbed me just below my sternum, I remembered just how much I really have always disliked the park. My grouchiness went away for small moments at a time when Avee giggled heartily at the thrill of swinging. But only small moments. Because after falling out of the swing two times and landing on her head and making other moms gasp and secretly call me a bad mother who should burn in hell---I refused to let her get back in the swing. And then the screaming. Oh the screaming. You can understand why I don't let those small grouch-free moments make me delusional.
So, is it just me? Do other moms really enjoy the park because, if they do---I'll have what they're having. I'd like to medicate this bad attitude right out of me.
Uh, chocolate doesn't work. Although, it does provide some insulation on those ever-uncomfortable picnic tables. Ottoman-less picnic tables.
You see, I have NOTHING TO BLOG ABOUT. Absolutely nothing. I start a thought and either lose it completely or realize it's not a thought worth having and throw it out myself. But I really, really, really want to blog. I love the therapy it's been for me. I love the documentation I have had for nearly the last year of my life. I'm in love with an idea.
I have nothing to write, but I have faith. A hope for things not seen. I believe I can write. I believe I can touch the keyboard. I think about it every night and day, spread my hands and just type away...
I really don't like going to the park. Well, I guess I like the park just fine, 'specially on a nice day like today after such a long cold spell. But park activities mostly annoy me. I don't like pushing kids on swings. I don't like "watching me" every blessed second. I don't like having to get off my rump to retrieve a child from a place she has no business being at her size. Yes, only her. He has more caution than she. I don't like the limited availability of comfortable seating. A butt-splintering picnic table or butt-numbing metal one. With no back support or ottoman. And it gets old looking at the same kids running up and down and around the play structures. If there was a remote, I could find a bit more enjoyment, I'm sure.
When I was in my late teens and early twenties I would take my nieces to the park at times because that is what nice aunts do. And I was most surely a nice aunt. I remember one particular time in Sacramento watching my nieces romp happily around the play area. I was bored out of my mind. I looked around at other moms reading, staring into space, chatting with each other and I thought to myself, "I really hope some kind of maternal thing kicks in with my own kids because this is ridiculously boring and I'm not gonna do this willingly with my own kids." I had genuine concern right then for the future mother Angela. I should have been more worried about how giving birth would eliminate every charitable feeling I had toward children. But who could have known? And notice how the young, naive, childless Angela actually thought going to the park was a choice the mom made? Sweet, sweet girl.
Something maternal did kick in, so that's good. Plus the whole---being trapped in a house with kids for days on ends will do wonders for what becomes desirable to you. But, as I was standing on a pile of wood chips that stealthily crept into my shoes and down my socks, and up my shirt and stabbed me just below my sternum, I remembered just how much I really have always disliked the park. My grouchiness went away for small moments at a time when Avee giggled heartily at the thrill of swinging. But only small moments. Because after falling out of the swing two times and landing on her head and making other moms gasp and secretly call me a bad mother who should burn in hell---I refused to let her get back in the swing. And then the screaming. Oh the screaming. You can understand why I don't let those small grouch-free moments make me delusional.
So, is it just me? Do other moms really enjoy the park because, if they do---I'll have what they're having. I'd like to medicate this bad attitude right out of me.
Uh, chocolate doesn't work. Although, it does provide some insulation on those ever-uncomfortable picnic tables. Ottoman-less picnic tables.
i only like the park if there is, at the park with me, either a magazine, a cookie, or a mom friend. the park's way better if you ask someone to meet you there. :)
Posted by
Leslie |
Tuesday, February 20, 2007 6:51:00 PM
Oh, THANK YOU. I hate the park. There's no food, couch, TV, computer, library, movies, or stereo. And all this time I've felt bad for hating it so much when my little babies love it so dearly. I always forget the wipes and they inevitably get a snotty nose or fall down and get dirty.
And you thought you had nothing to write about. :)
Posted by
Millie |
Tuesday, February 20, 2007 7:08:00 PM
I think you are in the majority. We only go to the park because our kids want to. I am in charge of a playgroup at my church. We are supposed to meet at the park every Wednesday and eat lunch. It was great at first because alot of mom's came. Now half the time I am there by myself. I have to resort to trying to make small talk with some stranger mom whose child also conned them into coming to the park. Now if I could steal my husband's work laptop with the wireless internet...that might work.
Amen to your post! It speaks to the heart!
Posted by
Crissybug |
Tuesday, February 20, 2007 8:36:00 PM
This comment has been removed by the author.
Posted by
Code Yellow Mom |
Tuesday, February 20, 2007 9:17:00 PM
ummm...My name is Traci, and I'm a parkaholic **wincing to admit it, but knowing you will love me anyway?**
Classic post. Love the way you say it.
Posted by
Code Yellow Mom |
Tuesday, February 20, 2007 9:22:00 PM
I don't love going to the park, either, but I found a way to make it a bit more enjoyable. If I get up off my hiney and play "park tag" then we all have a little more fun.
Park Tag is when you run around chasing your kids and they have to stay on the park structure, or if it is a really small park, then you have to stay in the sand/woodchip area.
We started playing park tag when our oldest was 5. She is 12 and is still willing to play (sometimes.) Park tag is most fun if dad plays, too.
My 3 year old likes to play, but he hates to be "it." That makes him cry, then I notice the woodchip stuck in my stinkin' sandal, and someone is thirsty or hungry or looking at someone wrong, and we go home...
(sorry this is the longest comment in history)
Posted by
wendy |
Wednesday, February 21, 2007 2:14:00 AM
I will never forget the day you told me that you didn't like the park. We were on the way to your park. I was on a scooter which I "borrowed" from an unknown child in your apartment complex, B was 100 yards ahead of us, and Hannah was trying to get a turn on the borrowed scooter! I honestly love the park. I love the slide, the taller the better! I love the swings - push me, push me! The older my girls get, the more I love the park. I don't have to retrieve them from high places where they shouldn't be and they can push each other on the swings. A juice box, a cheese stick and a book for me (just in case other moms are tired of me butting in line in front of their children) and nothing is better!
Of course I could do w/o the wood chips, the sand pit, and that one bully that is hiding under the monkey bars!
Posted by
Anonymous |
Wednesday, February 21, 2007 9:39:00 AM
So you started this post with faith that you would find something interesting to write about and then this happenned? Dang, that never happens to me...
Oh and sorry, I like the park...I don't know why. Maybe someday I'll take your kids to the park and you could I don't know, take my kids in to the doctor's office to get shots, or something...
Posted by
Sketchy |
Wednesday, February 21, 2007 11:46:00 AM
I have NOTHING TO BLOG ABOUT.
Sounds to me like you are taking liberties, as always Angela ;D
Ah the park, can't avoid it. It's like taking the kids to the movies and having to sit through Spy Kids 1. I wanted it to be over and I couldn't escape, there was nothing I could do but sit and take it like a Mom.
I agree, the combination of stiff back, achy butt, ants, flies, wasps, laughter, tears, hi mom!, watch me!, push me!, boredom, etc makes the park not such a fun place. But what are you going to do? We got to take it my friend.
Can't avoid death, taxes and the park.
Posted by
Super Happy Girl |
Wednesday, February 21, 2007 11:59:00 AM
I don't like going to the park either. ***Hangs head in shame.*** My hubby is really good at taking the boys, but I honestly don't do it very much. The sun is always in my eyes and I hate jumping up every few seconds to keep my child from killing himself, but I also don't like to just stand by them every moment. It's better when I'm there with a friend because then we can visit. :)
Posted by
Suzanne |
Thursday, February 22, 2007 10:28:00 AM
not big on the park unless there's other kids for my girl to play with. i don't even care if i have a mom to talk to-usually i'm too shy to talk anyway. but i loathe the moment when we have to leave and i end up dragging her bodily home, all the while threatening to never bring her back.
Posted by
megachick |
Thursday, February 22, 2007 12:48:00 PM
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