Parklife

On the whole, my kids are impeccably behaved and don’t tend to whinge or whine about the fact that I have MS; they understand that I can’t always do things because of my ‘bad legs’. Perhaps it is because of this understanding that my son’s tearful plea to take them to the park after school on Tuesday hit me so hard in the gut. I went through a sea of emotional turmoil as I fought with myself over the best thing to do. The ever sensible angel within me was firmly against taking them. Just think of the all the things that could go wrong when you take 3 loose cannons to the park, all running off in different directions with a mother who is unable to run after them… There are no toilets nearby, and last time you took them you didn’t make it home in time… You could be hit with a massive wave of fatigue brought on by the intense July heat and simply fall to the ground in a pathetic, useless heap… But the devil within was all for going to the park. The kids never get to do anything fun with their mum… Taking your own kids to the park is your responsibility as a parent… Every child deserves to be pushed on a swing by their mum… What kind of mother are you??…

And so, I of course loaded the children into the car and strapped them in, which was arguably just as tiring as walking the few yards to our local playground. But, if I was going to do this I needed to conserve as much energy in my legs as possible. The sun was beating down as I steered the car carefully across our driveway, up the close and into the small car park round the corner – the kids asking all the way why we hadn’t simply walked. Anyway, we’d arrived and the kids had all clocked the park; there was no turning back now. Once we were in the enclosed confines of the play area everything was fine. My eldest 2 are perfectly capable of climbing the frames and using the slides without assistance. I actually managed to sit down and chat a bit with a fellow parent, only getting up now and then to rescue my youngest from the perils of the grown-up slide and the grown-up swings, which he insisted on running into. Apart from the struggle to herd the children back to the car, during which time the littlest did indeed run off giggling delightedly, his little toddler legs going much faster than my own grown-up legs could manage, the outing was a success. Once we were safely back home and I could sit down away from the sun while my children continued running amok in the garden, I reflected on this latest achievement. Despite feeling physically frazzled, my mood was high – I had taken my kids to the park, and that felt good.