Neighborhood Parks Serve the Needs of Both Kids and Moms

Neighborhood Parks Serve the Needs of Both Kids and Moms
By Jennifer McManus

We’ve been lucky enough to live across the street from a park since the day my first daughter was born. It was a blessing in the early days of motherhood. Recovering from a c-section, I was unable to drive for the first six weeks of Bea’s life. The park was a perfect solution to my housebound, sleep-deprived, anxiety-stricken state. Even though Bea had not a clue as to where she was, it gave me a sense of adventure and escape. It wasn’t long before Bea was able to totter around the park, exploring all of its wonders on her own terms. And when her little sister was due to arrive a year later, the park was the place that my mother took a distraught Bea at 5 a. m., in order for her not to see Mommy leave the house for the hospital.

The girls spent an enormous amount of time at Pee Wee Park during all seasons. Even winter was terrific, when no one else would venture out. The slides were extra exciting with a bit of snow on them, the sand scoopers working just as well in the fluffy snow as the light sand. Its presence, along with the baseball field adjacent to it, made up for our lack of a significant backyard.

We loved our proximity to the park so much that it actually was a factor in our decision to buy a new construction that had gone up directly across the street from it. Once we moved into our new house and the girls got to a certain age I could simply have them walk to the park on their own, while I worked in the front yard, and they could have their first taste of independence, off on a grand escapade, always within sight and ear shot of Mom.

My appreciation of Pee Wee has broadened in our new location. I am now an observer to what I was once a (more) active participant—the tremendous sense of community among new and experienced moms that a great town park provides. It helps us really get our bearings as we em-bark on the mystery and wonders of motherhood. Not only do our children get their first tastes of socialization and friendships, we, too, get our early introductions to the new world of friends and social circles that inevitably are a product of our kids’ lives.

Even as our children’s friendships shift and evolve with age and experience, we still hold great affection and connection to the women we first met at the park. Swapping birth stories, feeding nightmares and tips, teething advice, sleep-training tales–you name it–we learned as much at the park as from any book by Dr. Spock or Dr. Sears.

This summer, “Bea’s Park,” as it affectionately became known in our household, was razed in order for a new park, with updated equipment and safety features, to be put in. As Bea and Grace watched the first acts of demolition take place, they were both very upset. Bea was prepared to “have a protest” in order to stop the bulldozers. My husband and I did our best to calm their fears. “The new park will be even better,” we said, in about a hundred different ways. They would both nod each time and say, “Yes, but it will not be the same.” It was those responses that reminded me that what each girl was really doing was grieving. They were grieving the loss of what had really become a little extension of home for them. A place that was a vivid and significant part of their brief histories.

Before the construction equipment destroyed the entire old park, we spent time there, taking pictures, and playing familiar games of “Beep.” The girls’ Uncle Bob will turn those pictures into his latest edition of “The Adventures of Bea and Grace.” They will then have something to remind them of the old Pee Wee Park forever.

The new park was just completed this past week, delayed by our August storms. It is spectacular. It has become the hub of west Kenilworth activity. The girls are crazy for it. I am now watching not only my own children and their friends play there, but also the dozens of children who now know me as “Mrs. Jennifer” from my job as a preschool teacher. And, of course, there are still the new moms, in the quieter hours of the day, strolling over, settling in with bottles, sippy cups and sand toys, starting their own Pee Wee histories.

Jennifer McManus, a resident of Kenilworth, is the mother of two daughters. She is also a teacher at All Things Bright and Beautiful Preschool. This article was first published in the Fall/Winter 2007-08 issue of Early Childhood.