Heard it in the playground

If you're giving yourself a pat on the back for surviving the newborn years, steady yourself, welcome to the wilderness of the playground. If you haven't heard it in the playground, I'll tell you a little bit about me. I'm the proud owner of two school aged kids. Boys.

In the scheme of things I have little experience in this world of parenting/parenting boys and there are no doubt those far better qualified than me to comment on it but these are my findings thus far and I'll happily share them with you. The world of boys and parenting in general is exhausting, relentless, rewarding, hilarious and often embarrassing. "Read to page seven and stop playing with your willy while you do it please" is a common sentence in my house, is it not in yours?

Throw into the mix, one of my children has special needs. I tell you this only as it would be misrepresenting the situation not to and also because maybe that might help you identify with some of this too. By special needs I mean that my son finds certain aspects of life and more specifically the education system totally impossible and is slowly learning to conform in the way that our national curriculum but not necessarily society, requires. That's for another post but what this situation has given me, really, really slowly, is a different awareness of myself and by association the ability to learn to cope in the playground.

"Read to page seven and stop playing with your willy while you do it please"

See, the playground is something I used to fear, still do often actually. If I get in that playground, collect two children, all their belongings and haven't had the cursory wave and "excuse me Mrs X, can I have a word..." then slap my arse and call me Judy, I'm a winner that day! Let us rush home before anyone changes their mind and eat some cake. Of course, there's always a chance of an after school 'sorry I didn't catch you earlier' phone call. Those are not cool but I've probably eaten the cake by that point so that softens the blow. Similarly, if I get my children to school without incident, calm, happy, ready for the day, both tottering off to their classrooms without a mutter of 'why do we have to go' or 'Its P.E. today, I hate P.E.' then good lord woman, run!!!!

I honestly have no clue whether its because I have children, or two children, or two boys or one child with special needs but as I look around the playground at pick up and notice other mums breathing a sigh of relief that they haven't had "the wave" and call up today...I realise I'm definitely not alone.

When people don't know you, know your family situation, your children's challenges, it's really easy to make assumptions. Of course it is. We've all done that if we're honest. Having endured this judgement in a really raw way I try desperately hard not to do it but sometimes queen judgey gets the better of us all.

I encourage my kids to be well mannered, well behaved and respectful at all times. That's the bit that gets lost in the playground often. Sometimes my kids, like your kids, make mistakes. Sometimes I, like you, don't get it right. But we are all trying and doing our best, right and despite what they say in the playground, we're doing just fine.

My son is now entering year four and I know without doubt that I wouldn't have survived those early days in the playground were it not for the friendship of other parents. The ones who keep an eye on my younger son, even take him back to theirs while I deal with whatever is occurring that day. Who don't judge but support us and message me later to check we are all ok. There will be more call ups and 'can I have a word' many, many more but I'm ready(ish), my skin is a little thicker and I have learnt to deal with the stares and whispers.

People will always talk, it's human nature but I'd like to think kindness is human nature too. If someone's had a hard playground moment, give them friendship and supportive looks (I also like wine, once safely back inside my house).

And definitely don't listen to everything you hear in the playground.