Day 7: How to Get Unstuck

Yesterday rained, so today was Day 7 for playground-hopping. My son wanted to take me on a bike ride wherein he leads and I follow...wherever he goes. We got a nice ride in for about 20 minutes and then found our way to the Scramble in I'on. This playground was the inspiration for the one in my second novel, Trouble the Water, the one where Honor sits and watches the nannies and their kids, the place where she stands in the middle of  an overgrown circle of bamboo.
There were no nannies and the circle of bamboo has all been cut back.

We climbed up (using a rope) into this playground contraption, sort of a boat with slides, etc. Easy peasy. Next, son went around back to the tall climbing wall. Again there's a rope. I had no qualms about this at all. Having mastered the climbing wall at BigToy playground last week, I wasn't afraid. At all. There's a slight problem with this. Apparently, sometimes fear is good.

You see, I was able to climb UP to the top no problem, very quickly, I might add. The problem was in the completion of said climb. There's a tall (4 or 5 feet, is that tall?) jump down to the flooring of the equipment, but I got one leg over the wall, clutched on for dear life, and could not pass. My son is coaching me, saying, "go back down", but I teetered and tottered--I couldn't go back down. I couldn't move. The hard wood was hurting in all sorts of places, inner thigh and more intimate ones, and I was S-T-U-C-K. My sunglasses began to fall. I mean this when I say I almost started crying. Can you believe that? How can they have this for kids? Ahem, well, my son had no trouble getting over, he just jumped. Perhaps he had no fear. Perhaps my fear is what stopped me at the top? Still pondering this. How could I be scared over a little climbing wall on a kids' playground? But I was. You betcha. The only way down was to continue to excruciating slide down the 5 foot fall. I know what pain is. I work hard to avoid it.

My inner thigh will be bruised and unforgiving for a while, but I made it. Thank the Lord.

Really, anything we did after that was a cakewalk. Toe taps and step ups on mushrooms, push ups on picnic table, even the tire swing did not make me queasy today. Real progress. My son ran an obstacle course in and out of the circle of bamboo and I followed. We did "Swing Jump Ups" where your hands are on the swing and you jump. Up. Son likes to jump a lot. After having two children, jumping is usually last on my love-to-do list, but I did them anyway. He's my coach.

A successful bike ride home and 45 minutes of very active time for Mommy and child. I loved it. To top it all off, Son said as we pulled into the garage, "This was your Mother's Day surprise." I told him it was perfect, and I hope we can do it again tomorrow...because these trysts leave me feeling very un-stuck.

Day 2: BigToy Playground

I woke up today with a headache, but strangely, looked forward to the playground this afternoon. I admit I rarely do anything good for me. I take care of the family, yes, but my time is limited when the kids are not here. The last thing I want to do is go out running or to the gym...simply because I have things to do. I'm lowest on the totem pole. Okay, maybe it's not just the time and totem pole issue. Maybe I just don't like the word "exercise." Okay. There, I said it. I actually feel a little better.

My kids have no idea they are exercising. They just play. All the time. They have fun and stay in shape while they're at. Today, I'm happy to report, I did the same thing. I played. I got exercise, and for the most part, had fun.

I pick up my son and instead of him asking to go to a playground and me saying no, or perhaps me saying yes, but only because he's asked so many times and I'm feeling guilty, today, I'm proactive. I surprise him. I pack a picnic, and when he gets in the car I say, "Do you want to go a playground?"

He's quiet a second, maybe thinking it's a trick. "Yeah!"

"Which one?"

"BigToy," he says. Hmmm. It is a ways away, and I consider the time it will take, and the fact that it will be two dollars to get in, but my boy asked for BigToy Playground, and by golly, that's where we're going!

BigToy is huge and has big things to play on. Beautiful trees, nestled along a green swamp. We find a picnic table and dig in. I finish first. I'm a fast eater. So while waiting, I look at the picnic table. What can I do with this? Push ups. I move to an incline and do push ups on the bench. 13 total. Not too easy, not too hard. I hope to be able to do more soon. This is the least fun part. Seems too exercise-y. Next, step ups on the bench, 10 on each side. I'm starting slow :)

My son walks along this border where you can fall down a few feet on one side. I follow. I'm like the Karate Kid. My 5-year-old son is Mr. Miyagi. Wax on, wax off. He's like my personal re-trainer. He's in great shape, has the time of his life. I have a lot to learn from this kid.

I balance along the border and actually skip back to the picnic table like my son. He's curious now. I have him take some photos of me. "Mommy exercising." How did he know it was exercising and not playing? Duh. Because Mommy always exercises and rarely plays. We'll see about that.

After his lunch is done, he runs to the climbing wall. Yes. A climbing wall. I have a fear of heights. This never entered into my mind when I thought about playing on a playground. I have to conquer this fear too? He shimmies up and then I follow. Make a lot of weird noises, "Oh, this is high. This is very, very high. whoa, now." The adolescent at the top looks at me like I'm a Martian. For a second, I feel funny being up here, but then I realize this kid is twice my size and weight. I have every right to be up here WITH MY SON, thank you very much.

Height issue conquered for now.

Then my son goes down this corkscrew thing. So I go down the corkscrew thing. It's twisty and surprisingly fun. I almost don't want it to end. Almost.

I proceed to follow my son back up another way and then down the long slide. I make a loud clunk noise at the bottom and catch the attention of a little boy, a woman and her mother. They look at me like I'm crazy. Son climbs up some bars again so up I go, too, struggling. They watch me. "I don't want to be too big," I explain feebly, "and I don't want to be too old for this." The older woman says, "Oh, well, I accepted that a while ago."

Not me. Not yet.

I tell these ladies I'm doing this for 91 days, 91 playgrounds. "Ninety-one playgrounds! Different ones?" No, not different. Just playgrounds. Play. Everyday.

Truly a spectacle now, following my son, doing whatever he does, I take my wedding rings off, stick them in my pocket, ask my son to hold the camera, and I grab those monkey bars. I grab them with wild abandon and by golly, I conquer them! Well, five bars, anyway. Not quite to the end.

But it's a start. And my headache eventually leaves without getting that mid-day Starbucks like I normally do. And I'm having fun with my son. Real fun.

Well played, I think. Well done.

Day One: The Aha! Moment

Today I had an epiphany. I picked my son up from school and he asked to go to the playground. I hesitated. Why do I dread the playground? I love my kids. I should love the playground, right? I shrugged it off, said yes, and off we went.

My son wants me to push him on this roundabout thing. But I’m just cold. Low circulation in 70 degree weather. I have to sit on a swing in the sun to warm up. I swing a bit. Then higher, and higher like my son. Then whoa…I’m feeling nauseous. Why can’t I swing anymore without wanting to throw up? This didn’t happen when I was a kid. “Look, I’m almost touching that tree!” my son says with glee. I stop myself and try to calm my spinning stomach. We go to the roundabout thing and I push, standing in a sunny spot. This is hard to push. It’s more like dragging him along. Not too fun for either of us. I suggest he go to the monkey bars instead. No pushing involved there. We wade through mulch, and there, I marvel at his prowess on the bars.

I stare up at a red monkey bar, lift my arms and jump. I hang for about a second. It hurts my hands, especially where the wedding band is. My son climbs up another bar and gets on top, reaches over precariously and jumps into a ring. He grabs it, holds for a moment, then drops down, laughing. Would have ripped my arm right out of the socket.

I glare up at my bar again. I jump and hold it about 4 seconds this time. My hands hurt. Dang, I’m heavy. He’s just carrying a lighter load. That’s it. No, that’s not all. What about our military and the boot camps the troops go through? Surely they have to do chin ups. I try one and stick my chin up there…for about 5 seconds. Wow. This is hard. I am totally out of shape. My son? Still going.

And so it occurs to me. I am 38-years-old. When I was pregnant with my son just over 5 years ago, I started writing books. I love writing books, but I sit on my tookus all day. I’m out of shape. I dread the playground, why? Because there’s nothing for me to do here. I have other things to do, errands to run, books to write, clients to tend to. There’s nothing for me here except for my kids, of course…unless.

Unless I learn to play again. Unless I reclaim my inner child and my outer body. Unless I choose not to sit idly by like all these other parents and grandparents, scared of the germs on the bars and swing sets, trying not to get sand in our shoes…unless I choose to learn how to play again. I want to be able to play like my son, with my son. I want to be able to hang on those bars and laugh and look forward to the playground again.

I ask my son why I can’t do the things he can. He says, “Maybe you’re just too big.” Too big. Hmph. “Too big or too old?” I say, mostly to myself, but he hears. “Maybe too old,” he answers.

Too big and too old to play.

That’s when I make up my mind. I’m going to learn how to play again, get in shape again, and feel young again. In 91 days. 91 playgrounds. What do I have to lose? Pounds? Flab? But what could I gain? More time with the kids? A younger state of mind? More energy? More fun?

I’m in.