Four Women

Just a Day at the Squishy Park

My husband and I took our boys to the "squishy park" (that's what our preschool-aged children affectionately call the mall play area). We were there for about 10 minutes before anyone else showed up, so I played with the boys. We were playing tag. I was climbing the squishy tree and pulling my overweight body through the tunnels and jumping over bridges, etc. The boys were having a blast with their mama, who usually just sits and watches them play. 

And Then There Were Two

When I saw another mom come into the park with a preschool-aged boy, I played for only a short time more. I felt she was watching me--me in my sweat pants (because it's laundry day) and my old T-shirt (because only T-shirts fit over my round belly without drawing attention to it). As I pulled myself through the tunnel for the last time, I wasn't watching my baby's smiling face at seeing my chasing hands reach out for him. I was looking at that mom, who was watching me, and I couldn't help but think how she must be assessing me, and how would I measure up? 

She sat so proper, legs crossed, hair slicked into a bun, business pants, dress shoes, and a pea coat clasped tight in front. Sometimes she would watch her son play, but mostly she just sat, straight-faced.

Three's Company

Then Mom #3 walked into the park with a toddler girl who wore pink leggings and a tutu. She was adorable, and she had her mom's full attention. Mom #3's hair was awesome, pulled up into a messy ponytail, nose ring glinting under the skylight, dress pants, and a bright red pea coat. When she walked in with her daughter I thought, she must be headed to work after this. Then as she sat down, she took off her jacket and revealed a tight fitting baby doll shirt that clashed with her dress pants. When she bent over to talk to her toddler girl, her breasts were in full view of the whole mall, and when she sat or stood, she crossed her arms across her tiny body, as if hiding behind them. 

Four's a Delight

When Mom #4 came into the park with her 3 kids (I'm not sure if all were hers) I was immediately drawn to her tight braid, wondering how I could do that with my hair. It was so simple. She wore no make-up. She wore regular boot-legged jeans, and a plain T-shirt. Despite her simplicity, she was the most sure-footed, confident woman in the squishy park today. She had control over her kids; she scanned the park constantly; she looked at her cell phone a total of twice during the 1/2 hour I was there with my kids. This woman obviously didn't spend unneeded time preparing herself for the day doing fancy hair and make-up, but it was obvious that she did take care of herself. Her hair was braided back, and her clothes were clean. Though she had three kids in tow, she didn't seem the least bit frazzled or unorganized. She seemed perfectly happy to be there, just watching her kids play. She seemed to have no worries about lunch or nap time. She seemed to not worry about anything except the task at hand. 

Light Bulb

Five moms. One squishy park. 
None spoke to one another. The children played, and the moms sat on the benches, and no one spoke. Yet there was a lot said. 
When I arrived at the park I had a great time. With each addition to the play area, though, I felt worse and worse about myself. 
Why?
Hey world! In case you didn't know, moms are competitive. Sometimes they can be pushy, and sometimes they can be ugly. But when they're being none of those things, there's no reason to let them bring you down. 
None of those moms were trying to make me feel bad about myself. None of them did anything to make me feel bad. Regardless, I did. I left the squishy park feeling self-conscious, momentarily forgetting the fun I had with the boys, and determined to get home. 
It doesn't have to be this way.