So, I am back, and tomorrow I will start telling you all about BOOK EXPO! and boring you with tales of New York. Tales of book signings and French 75s and also of being mistaken for a hooker! (Oh no I’m NOT. Kidding, that is. Or a hooker.)
My first day back was marvelous in its own right, however. I took Simone to the park for the first time this season.
The swing continues to be the runaway favorite, though she braved the (smallest) slide as well. Seeing that faltering split second of “am I scared or exhilarated?” cross her face brought me swiftly and immediately back to my own early slide experiences. There was a slide at the playground of the Northeast Child Development Center, a slide I remember as being about 18 or 19 (hundred?) feet tall, gleaming silver, like a broiling, gigantic straight razor. It took me AGES to work up the courage to go down that slide, and after I did I couldn’t remember what I’d been so afraid of—I went back again and again and again. Which is sort of how I feel about a lot, lately. I keep doing things that terrify me—and to my shock and delight, I keep coming out at the bottom, whole and grinning.
When I was a couple of years older than Simone is now I spent a week visiting my aunt in Mobridge(?) South Dakota, where after months of eyeing them suspiciously from afar, I tackled my fear of the Tornado Slide. You know the ones I mean: slides that corkscrew, often partially enclosed. Oh, how I feared the Tornado Slide! This was after I had mastered the regular, straight-edged version: the Tornado Slide was my white whale. I recall sitting at the top, slipping a little, clutching at the sides with my grimy hands and thinking “Alexa, you FOOL, what have you gotten yourself into?” And then off I went, like some kind of daredevil. There used to be a picture somewhere that was taken that week, of me poised in the tunnel of the slide’s entrance, my face shadowed but eyes bright as beads with the thrill of my own bravery.
Tire swings and those whirling-deathtrap-child-turntables were another story, of course, but that’s only common sense.
Simone was similarly visiting relatives last week, and though she apparently had a lovely time, I heard there was an Incident that began when she was with her grandmother at some sort of Iowan Mall Play Area, eyeing a little boy. Simone’s fascination with other children is intense—probably because she’s scarcely seen any, due to being largely quarantined for the first two years of her life. At the park yesterday, a little girl started swinging next to us, and Simone didn’t take her eyes off her the entire time.
Anyhow, there she is, my daughter, standing on the edge of the Iowan Mall Play Area, watching a boy-child gambol and play with things. Watching, and watching, and finally venturing over to join him. I picture her like a tentative fawn at this point: hopeful, innocent, eager, a little shy. And then do you know what happened?
That little cocksucking hooligan turned to my fawn-daughter and PUSHED HER DOWN. After that, Simone wanted nothing more to do with the Iowan Mall Play Area.
I presume it is only natural that hearing this story made me stop right where I was on the stairs and bend over holding my chest, my poor heart tearing in a way that was physically painful. I presume it is only natural that I cannot think of that moment without feeling a horrible howling draining of my blood at the knowledge that Simone has had her first encounter with Mean, with Rejection. It’s natural, certainly, to hate that I wasn’t there.
I also presume it is only to be expected that after the initial heart-rending had passed, my greatest desire in the world was to drive to Iowa, to this Iowan Mall Play Area, and put that (innocent, I realize, entirely inculpable!) little brat forcefully through a wall. Totally within the realm of normal maternal emotion, right?
{ 39 comments… read them below or add one }
I’m not sure you ever stop feeling heartbroken when your child gets rejected.
Gorgeous photos.
Wonderful photos…and yes, totally fine to wanna eat the nasty little kid’s heart and liver…yep.
I vacillate between the child-killer instinct and the fear that I’m raising a sociopath. Because sometimes my girl is getting rejected, and sometimes she’s the one pushing other kids down. Sigh.
The other day we were at a splash park and this older kid, probably 8 – 10 years old, took one of the water guns and shot it at my 2 year old. And man it took everything I had not to get up and get in his face and be all “look, he’s two. TWO. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to play with the water guns too so straighten up and don’t spray him.” Instead when C came over and said “hurt” I said that he needs to be able to say “please don’t do that” if someone is doing something that hurts him. Also? Another probably 6 year old poked him with something while he was at the very top of one of the ladders you climb up to go down a slide. That time I actually looked at the kid and said “Please stop that” because it was actually dangerous. In reality, I wanted to climb up there and ask him how dare he do that to a little kid. So yeah, I understand your reaction completely.
yes, totally.
Can’t wait to hear about the Book Expo! And yes, you’re completely normal. My daughter is 3.5 years old and I still hold my breath every time she approaches a kid at the park.
Like A said, wait until Simone is knocking other kids around- it’s impossible not to feel like a total asshole.
At least it was just a toddler. The big kids that try to intimidate the little kids at the park are the ones I want to punch.
I still remember two summers ago, when BG was 18 months old, and she followed these two 3-year-old girls around the playground because she wanted to watch them fill buckets of water and run them back and forth. They ignored her and ignored her, and then finally one of them, a horrible Mean-Girl-in-Training, turned to her and said, “NO! Go away! We don’t want to play with babies!” I wanted to rip her throat out. I still give that little girl the stink-eye when I see her on the street. I don’t know how I will survive when BG gets to middle school.
“alot” Alexa? Really? You MUST be tired, honey.
And yep, I’m right there with you on the Mama Tiger thing. Simone will get over it way faster than you will.
You have caused me to de-lurk myself on this one. Whoo-eee, do I know that feeling! It takes all you have not to inflict your mommy-rage on another child. My story is this – my son was 2 at the time and we were at a local, very popular, playground. He was playing over close the big kid playground and was very proud of himself about it too. I let him go since he wasn’t in anyone’s way. I saw some older kids (say 6 or 7) approach and they seemed to be very interested in him. He was making “roads” in the dirt. He started laughing and running after them. As I got closer to see what the fuss was about, I realized they had coaxed him into eating dirt so they could laugh at him. They were old enough to know better and I told them so, loudly! But the part that broke my heart in two is that my baby was just so excited that the big kids were “playing” with him that he didn’t know they were being mean. Oh, crushed!
My little girl (also a preemie, so similarly sequestered during her first flu season) recently had her first encounter with MEAN, too. It was a mild encounter, but I still can’t think about it without becoming upset, mainly because I know it won’t be the last time. I’m tempted to play the preemie card and keep her in until she’s, oh, 65, so that I can just take care of her ALL THE TIME. That wouldn’t cause problems, right?
My boy is turning 5 next month and he has not been around other kids very much either. Lately he has started to say hi to other kids he sees in stores, at the playground etc. He always asks me if it’s ok first, then says it. Most say hi back, but one day a girl around 8 looked horrified and didn’t say anything back, and hid behind her mom. He turned to me with a puzzled look on his face and asked why she didn’t say hi back. It wasn’t exactly mean, and I explained that some people are shy, but it gave me a tiny taste of what’s to come when he starts school this fall.
Oh yes, that’s a normal maternal reaction. (Or I’m also a sociopath, right there with you.) When my daughter was about 18 months old, she was shoved aside by a boy in the mall play area. I had to take her home so I wouldn’t slap his evil little face.
My sister is 18 years younger than I am and I am very protective of her. She is in college about 20 minutes from my house and for the first semester of her sophomore year she had two suitemates who, I can only assume, are the daughters of Satan. Such little bitches, they were NASTY to my sister for several months until, I suppose, they got bored and then one of them moved out at the end of the semester. Fortunately my sister had a great roommate and the new suitemate who moved in was very nice which really took the wind out of the remaining Cruella’s sails. I had a very strong reaction to the behavior of these two little tarts, so much so that my husband had to remind me: “You do know you are talking about 19-year-olds, right? And you’re 37?” Yeah, well. Don’t MESS with my family.
I’m honestly not sure what’s worse: watching your child being shoved abruptly onto their arse, or staring in fixated horror as your child whacks another child over the head with something heavy, AND THERE IS BLOOD.
Both are bad. Hugs!
I’m tempted to pay a toddler goon squad to go get that nefarious Iowan boy. They are going to…steal all his pretzel goldfish. And eat lollipops in front of him, tauntingly.
Long before I was a parent, but long after I was ten, I watched a family friend counsel her then ten (or so?) year old daughter, who was devastated about not being invited to a certain party with all the in girls.
I will never forget that moment, as my heart sank to realize that there really is something worse than being a kid and having people be mean to you, and that’s having to be the parent who has to say something wise and comforting to your kid when someone is mean to them. Especially when you want to cry yourself.
So all of that’s a very long way to say that I’m going with “ordinary mother.” ;-)
It’s totally not you being irrational, my heart hurt just reading your post! These comments, gah, breaking my heart even more! My younger son is very sensitive, and seeing him get rejected brings out rage in me! I get kind of torn (like jen in comment 4 above) because part of me wants to teach him to defend himself, then the other part wants me to protect him of all this, you know?
I think we are all missing the major point of this post, and that is that Simone is looking positively ADORABLE in that sun hat!
YOU ARE TOTALLY WITHIN THE REALM OF NORMAL. TO. TALL. Y. !!!
When my own darling little ex-premmie copped a barrage of ballpit balls in the face at close range after approaching another boy – arms outstretched, laughing with the anticipation of fun to be had – I restrained myself from stringing the little terror up by his belt hooks and instead focussed my rage on his mother, who had stood by watching. I loudly told her to control her “fucking little feral”, if I recall correctly. I couldn’t help myself. Yes, I’m one of those mothers. No one touches my little snowflake.
Then we went home and I taught my son to throw a ballpit ball with deadly accuracy and speed.
I have felt, and expect to feel this many times during the course of the rest of my parenting life. And I hear tell that the urge to destroy those who hurt our kids only gets stronger. Playground/Playmall rejection is one thing. I can’t imagine how I’ll feel when some pimply faced pubescent scoundrel breaks my daughter’s heart. I pity that fool.
That little bastard! Sorry. I am dreading that moment, that first taste of Mean. I know I can’t be there to referee all the time. I guess the next step is teaching our daughters how to pick themselves up and let Mean roll off their backs. (How do we do that?)
Sounds pretty darn normal to me.
Alex, my youngest – barely a year old – was trying to make friends in the sandbox last weekend, but the little snot nosed kid (about 4 years od) was having nothing to do with Alex. Pushing, shouting and pinching all took place. The look of bewilderment on Alex’s face was heartbreaking.
The worst part? The kid’s father was right there and said NOTHING. I ended up telling Alex to not play with the nasty boy – at which point the father gave me the stink eye. Can a mother kill with an icy glare? I sure as hell tried.
Oh my, she is so cute!
Sorry for the rejection though. The heartache must be tough.
The first time I saw 3 little bastard girls making fun of Wren in a play area (she just happened to be a lot younger than them) I wanted to go start cracking heads for introducing her to the concept of cruelty.
a little shit-face bit my son’s nose when he was 3 and i envisioned myself grabbing the back of his head and smashing that child’s face on the table. brutal. but i maintain, normal.
nowadays at 6, a big fat stupid nerd calls my son “idiot” and pushes him. i still want to kick child ass and not only that, but tell him how he’ll never have a girlfriend because he’s just… all wrong in the visual department.
i guess my point is that there’s always an asshole… and you’ll always want to bring harm to that offender.
but you WON’T…
My son is 16. He weighs more than me, has an athletic build, and is an aggressive, no-fear (soccer) goalie. Still, when I see a larger (and that’s a subjective term in this case) guy try to rough him up on the field, I want to put that guy through a wall, too.
In fact, I did actually slide tackle a player who roughed up my son during a co-ed “open” (re: all ages) tournament. Hmmm. I guess I can stop wondering where his tendency to play rough comes from.
Long story short: the feeling never goes away.
Hmmm. Ordinary reaction, but perhaps exacerbated by the fact that Simone’s relative isolation may have meant that she has had fewer opportunities to shove other children. Having seen my son on both the giving and the receiving end helps temper my outrage.
And I’m with Shauna on the sunhat and its charming wearer.
Would you please post every day? I love your writing, your photos, etc.. Or maybe 3 times per day? Thank you for your consideration :)
I am ashamed to say that my 2-y.o. daughter (also a preemie named Simone) was a pusher. I can’t tell you how many unsuspecting toddlers have fallen prey to my bossy little one. Each time I have removed her from the situation and apologized profusely to the child and the glaring parent. Thankfully, she seems to have outgrown this behavior.
Consequently, when she was pushed by a little beast at her play class recently, I wasn’t terribly outraged. Karma!
i’m just sorry you were robbed of the chance to call the offender a cocksucking hooligan. :)
Simone’s shirt is rad.
Um, “innocent” and “entirely inculpable”? When it’s someone else’s kid who was pushed down, yes. When it’s your kid? NO WAY IN HELL. TAKE THAT LITTLE SUCKER OUT.
Just a thought – now that she’s past the quarantine stage, you might want to seek out a play-group (the local park districts in MSP surely have something like this) or on your own try to find some parents with similarly-aged kids for her to get to know and play with regularly. That might help her (and you) feel more at ease striking up social interactions with other kids at the playground and out in the world.
I cringe a little to offer this suggestion, because I myself never had any interest in “mom’s groups” and the like where the sole point of common interest was parenthood. For me, though, there also wasn’t much of a point, because several of my good friends happened to have children right around the time my daughter (Simone’s age) was born, and she’s had a nice cohort of “friends” since babyhood (and now they really are forming friendships). My daughter’s got a fairly timid disposition, and I think it helps that she has kids she knows with whom to “practice” asserting her personality (not to mention sharing, etc.). I know it’s impossible to just conjure up friends with kids for Simone to play with, but it might be worth some effort, however much you might feel allergic to hanging out with near strangers just so your children can play together:)
It is heart wrenching when another kid hurts your child. When my middle was 2 we were at Borders in the kids play area and another little boy was there and he approached my son. I thought this was good, because my boy only had an older sister so this would be good boy contact. The other boy started to innocently wrestle him and sort of got on top as if to give him a hug and within a second, he bent down as if to kiss my boy and instead bit him on the nose. Blood curdling cry, blood coming out, my husband hearing the cry from across the store and runs over and I was sitting right there. It happened in a second. The other mother was all apologetic explaining that he has two older brothers and they can be rough and then tells me that he’s had his shots. I felt like the worst mother in the world for not protecting him.
Most of your commenters are way more restrained than I was when my three children were menaced by evil, hulking, brats. When I witnessed acts of aggression against any of my darlings I used to call the little snots out, right in front of their parents. Nobody messed with my kids. Nobody.
Now they’re big enough to fend for themselves but back in the day I used to go up to bullies who were picking on my children and give them what for. I’m proud to say that one little thug in training actually WET HIS PANTS in terror and went running to some older, grandma-type who was supposed to be watching him. She tried to get mouthy to me but I shut her down, too.
Somewhere in a crappy trailer, there’s a 20-year-old man who wakes up in a cold sweat remembering how, years ago, a lady in a playground told him she’d twirl him around by the rat tail hanging down from the back of his white trash hairdo if he pushed her son again.
Totally normal. Totally, totally normal.
I want to break that kid’s fingers, one by one. And I’ve only seen Simone on the internet.
Ugh, mean toddlers. My daughter (3) who can be the sweetest thing, isn’t a morning person. When I drop her at preschool in the AM, her friends run up to hug her (she’s sweet, honestly!), she screams at them and sucks her thumb while yelling “NO!” loudly. Totally hurting the feelings of the hugee and I feel terrible. Moments later, they are happily doing a puzzle or pretending to be fire(wo)men. It is hard to watch and I apologize every AM to the parents of the hugging children. I sometimes think I’m the mom of a “mean girl.”
My older daughter, on the other hand, didn’t have all the same experiences with kids, and was so similar to Simone, working up her courage to play, only to be rebuffed and I wanted to shake the kids and tired of the parental apologies. I still remember a scheduled play date when #1 was 4, she brought a little picture of herself (a photo) with her that she was excited to give her “friend” and the “friend” took it, tore it up, and said she “hated it.” I wanted to cry, #1 did, and we never played again with that one.
I ended up telling Alex to not play with the nasty boy – at which point the father gave me the stink eye. Can a mother kill with an icy glare? I sure as hell tried. thanx for the share.