Snake Park

Most days after I pick my oldest up from preschool I take the girls to a park down the street. It’s on a bustling block in Highland Park surrounded by coffee shops and bars and corner stores that sell local orange wine and Spanish tinned fish. I’ve grown to like this park for a few reasons: it’s enclosed, it’s easy to see Viv from whatever shaded bench I perch myself on, has soft and squishy ground rather than dreaded wood chips, and there’s normally a kid or two from Viv’s school that she can play with. Usually I’ll sneak a mini Diet Coke in my canvas tote that feels like a luxury to sip on, I’ll give Margot veggie sticks or an orange and hope she doesn’t want to climb around too much. For months I looked forward to this time with the girls. It helped pass those precarious few hours between after school and the dinner/bath/bedtime tornado. I felt the tiniest bit accomplished that the girls would get fresh air and run around. I was even becoming more comfortable talking to the other parents from Viv’s school.

But something happened in the last month. Our park hangs have slowly come undone. My three-year-old started having pee accidents every single time we were there. I tried to get ahead of them - the moment I saw her do a little wiggle I would ask her to come with me to the bathroom. “No.” Please, I would say. We’ll all go together, you just need to try, it’s okay if you don’t go. “No.” Then, I’ll see the beginnings of an accident in her bike shorts. Ok, I say, we have to go to the bathroom now! “NO!” And then everything unravels. I have to buckle my one and half year old into the stroller - usually she starts crying too. During that time Vivi dashes away - I chase her down, scoop her up, shakily push the stroller with one hand. I make our way to the sticky, horrifying public park bathroom while Vivi kicks me and screams “NO!”  The kind of toddler in public behavior that immediately makes me start sweating, where suddenly my clothes feel too tight, I’m desperate to take off a layer. And I’m nervous about the other parents looking at us.