The Park

When we bought this house, I was SO excited that there was a park down a block and across the street. "We will never have to buy playground equipment!" I said. I pictured me and my girls (this was before kids, and I always pictured having girls) going there everyday.

I think we have gone 3 times in 2 years.

Last year, Jack was too young. Then this year, part of the problem was that I was hugely pregnant the first half of this summer, and then had a newborn the second half. I feel like we are just getting into the swing of things right now.

So, my cousin-in-law and her 10 month-old son, Jake, came over today (everyone I know has boys) and I suggested we go to the park. It was a nice day, and there will not be a whole lot of those left up here in the tundra. Off we went, and luckily, the park wasn't very busy. It has a toddler area and a bigger kid area, and usually both are packed, but today the toddler area was pretty calm. So the boys (Jack and Jake; Charlie hung out in the baby bjorn and I forgot a hat for him, by the way, so was trying to hold up my hand to block the sun---the difference between the first and second kid!) went in the swings, and then Jack just ran around while Jake tried to put rock after rock in his mouth. Jack really enjoys older kids right now, and so he would run his cute little high-stepping run, then stop and gape at the kids, then run some more. The boy doesn't actually play at the park, but at least his screaming doesn't sound as shrill as it does at home. They explored the little tunnel, and Jack even held some sweet girl's hand (which is a nice change from all the shoving he was doing at our last playdate). Things were going well.

The boys seemed to be slowing down, so I suggested we walk back to our house. I chase after Jack, who had started his high-stepping routine again and bring him over to the stroller (all the while with Charlie in the baby bjorn, remember). Jack starts to throw a fit. Screaming (not in fun now, but in tantrum mode) and throwing himself back so that he can't sit in the stroller. Fine, I think, he can just walk with us. I ask him to take my hand, but nope, he throws himself to the ground, still screaming. Ugh. I was sweating already, but I am sure my face was red (I embarrass SO easily). Finally, I just pick him up and we start walking, him still SCREAMING. We get several yards, and I try the stroller again (it was just too much holding him and Charlie there). No go. Finally, with Megan's (cousin-in-law) help we just held him down, strapped the poor kid in and almost ran away. I didn't look back, and I am sure no one was thinking we were cruel or anything, but STILL. I just hate those fits.

By the way, Jack half cried/half screamed the whole way home.

Ah, these are the days.