Tuesday, February 7, 2012

The park sucks.

Yep, I hate the park. And wouldn't you know, my kids love it. They must be normal. Anyway, the reasons the park sucks abound.

ABOUND, people.

I'm not sure which is worse, my hatred of Play-Doh or my hatred of the park. Okay, I think the park wins. It's worse.

Initially, in my evaluation of exactly why I hate the park so much, I figured it was mainly because of that dreaded thing known as Other Peoples' Kids. Then, I thought about it more and I realized that the park isn't much more tolerable when I am there alone with my children, so it can't just be that.

It's only the tip of the iceberg.

If I had to place a definition of the park in the dictionary, this is what would appear:

park [hell-hohl]

1. A mind-numbingly boring place in which bacteria, viruses, cigarette butts, dog crap, pedophiles, horny teenagers, and assholes with little kids gather.

2. The primary objective of the kids in this gathering spot is to pick up illness, injuries (usually caused by some other kid while their parent isn't watching, or even worse, is watching and doing nothing about it), miscellaneous bad habits from other kids, and repeatedly offer their parents bark dust french fries from their "restaurant". Also, to seek out the dog crap, step in it, then wander over to the pile of cigarette butts and chew on one or three while Mom is keeping sibling from getting kicked in the head by some other kid, and then wash down the butts with a swig from a crushed beer can. That someone peed in.

3. The primary objective of the parents is to not shoot themselves in the face from boredom and misery while repeatedly pretending to be excited and grateful for the bark dust french fries, and to not shoot another kid and/or their parents in the face for their basic asshole behaviors. Also, to continually scan every exit point and have mini heart attacks when one child is out of sight for several seconds lest some creep has led said child out of the park to do unspeakable things, and try not to have a mental break down from All. The. Fucking. Screaming.

Maybe you don't feel the same way, but most likely you have several gripes of your own to add. So do I.

The park seems to bring out all kinds. All kinds of freaks, all kinds of ideas on how often to bathe one's child - from daily, to every other day, to once or twice a week, to apparently, once a month in some cases, all kinds of ideas on appropriate parenting practices, and all kinds of ideas on discipline - for some parents, it doesn't exist. 

Sometimes, I am fortunate enough to sidestep the "all kinds" and get to be alone with my children at the park. I actually seek those parks out, and have one favorite that is not only usually quiet, it's entirely gated so I don't have to constantly eyeball every exit for the straying child, therefore leaving me time to read, play Angry Birds, go through my wallet, text, or whatever else I feel like doing that doesn't require me to watch Ethan slide down the same slide for the 700th time. This year. 

The gates, however, do not keep the boredom, dog crap and illness-causing germs out. Nor do they prevent Brandon, at 1 and 1/2, from putting everything, everything, he finds in his mouth. So technically, I don't sit around and read, text, etc.... yet. Oh, and it doesn't have a bathroom. Thankfully I have boys... they've watered a few trees. 

And before anyone gets all up in arms about how lucky I am to even be able to see my kid slide down the same slide 700 times, because blind people don't get to see that; I get it. I really do. I am phenomenally lucky to be able to see, walk, talk, and so blessed to even have kids in the first place. I feel that very deeply. Well, most of the time. But it doesn't take the pure monotony away. No matter how hard I try for it to, it just doesn't. 

Anyway, I wish, upon entering a park, parents were handed a drink and whisked off to the adults-only section, preferably with a friend or two accompanying them, unless quiet and alone time is sorely needed. 

Within the adults-only section, there would be two subsections, one in which small talk among strangers is desired, and the other, the small talk is not desired, so leave me/us (if with friends) the fuck alone section. In other words, the "no, I don't feel like filling you, a total stranger that I am never going to see again, in on my due date, gender of the baby, whether or not I am going to circumcise/breastfeed/co-sleep, or the age of my kids, when they walked, talked, and potty-trained, and whether or not I circumcised/breastfed/co-slept so you can get all judgey on me- I am here to forget that my kids exist for a few precious moments" section. 

And the kids would happily play in an entirely different section of the park, supervised by qualified, trained individuals.

That would be my kind of park.

My next post is going to share what happened the other day at the park. I'll call it Example #1 of why I hate the park. It's a real life story, people. Of straight-up shittiness. And since there will more of those stories to come, I have no doubt in my mind, be on the lookout for future examples. 


Join in the fun on Facebook and Twitter!


  1. LOL #2 is the BEST....

  2. Oh God. I completely agree with ALL of this. I take my daughter to the park so that SHE can socialize with other kids and then knock the fuck out on the ride home. Truth: I do not want to push my kid on the swing for 30 minutes in 90 degree weather. Nor do I want to run around chasing her.

    1. Yep! Yet we end up doing it anyway, just so they aren't climbing our backs. Ugh.


I love comments! And feel free to share any post you like or if you know someone who would like it, too!