Pride Rides the Swing

By Veronica

I had taken all four children to the park to enjoy the beautiful weather. I had the baby strapped into a carrier on my chest, and I was pushing my four year old on the swing. The two year old and five year old were playing on the slides.

Another mom put her two small children in the baby swings next to me. We began to chat, the way moms do when they don't know each other. We talked about our kids, and she told me that the tykes in swings were her only two children, conceived through in vitro fertilization, and she was debating whether to have another baby.

She expressed surprise that I had four, and began talking to me as though I were some kind of parenting authority.

It flatters my vanity to be spoken to this way. I waxed philosophical about the challenges of four small kids. I told her that having three forced me to give up my perfectionist goals and accept the chaotic life of children. I told her that three was the magic number when I began to settle into this life with more joy and less anger, and structure my life around the kids for my contentment as much as theirs.

I was really enjoying my role as Parenting Expert on the playground, sharing my hard-won wisdom. And just as I was thinking how well-earned my new status was, and how very impressive I am, I gave my four year old another push on the swing.

And I pushed her right off the swing. She went free into the air, and then straight into the dirt.

It's hard to maintain a supermom image after that. She wasn't hurt, and we dusted ourselves off - she literally and I metaphorically. She ran off to play on the slide and I followed.

I never knew swings could be so humbling.