I’m That Mom at the Playground, and Here’s What That Really Means

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You know the one — the frazzled figure sprinting around the park, hair in a perpetually messy ponytail, panting like she’s just run a marathon. That’s me, climbing every jungle gym and sliding down with my little one perched between my legs.

I see you too, sitting with your coffee, chatting with your friends while I dash around like a headless chicken. We’ve exchanged smiles and waves before, and I think you’re wonderful. I’d love to join you for a cup of that overpriced Starbucks brew and share some laughs about our kids’ latest mischief. But every time you wave me over, I have to smile back and explain, “I can’t — I’ve got to keep up with my little whirlwind.”

It’s not that I’m avoiding you or being antisocial. In fact, I’m the opposite. My son, who has autism, doesn’t quite grasp social cues, safety, or even the concept of sitting still. He’s on the move all the time, and I’m right there with him, climbing ladders, crawling through tunnels, and sliding down slides. I’m the mom who’s always cheering him on and trying to keep him engaged while keeping an eye on everything around us.

You might think I’m the ultimate supermom, but let me tell you, it’s a lot of work. Just getting out of the house with my son can be a Herculean task. I want him to be happy, and honestly, I need to escape the confines of our home every now and then.

You’ll notice I’m always in sneakers — no flip-flops for me. I need to be quick on my feet. I’m usually in a tank top, even when it’s a bit chilly, because I’m constantly sweating from the effort of keeping up with him. After an outing, I often feel like I’ve completed a triathlon.

In just a few minutes, my son and I have explored every nook and cranny of the playground. I know all the exits, potential hazards, and even where the smaller kids are playing. But I’m always ready to leave at a moment’s notice. I’ve seen what can happen during a sensory overload, and I want to prevent any incidents before they occur.

You’ve complimented me before, telling me how inspiring I am, and while I appreciate that, I often feel like I’m just getting by. I overhear your plans for family outings and wonder what it would be like to enjoy a picnic without a care in the world. I envy the way your kids sit patiently, while mine darts around, throwing sand and giggling.

Just then, I see a child eyeing my son’s iPad. I understand the looks I get — why does he need that? But for him, it’s his comfort zone. Some days it’s just easier to let him have it than to battle for it.

Despite appearing strong, there are days I feel overwhelmed. Last night, I tossed and turned, worrying about therapies, diets, and Medicaid — thoughts that invade my mind when I’m trying to relax. I often feel the most isolated in public spaces like this, surrounded by families laughing and playing, yet my son and I drift in our own bubble.

And then it happens. My son starts to melt down. I have to scoop him up and carry him out, feeling the weight of his flailing body. You wave goodbye, and I manage a smile, but my arms are too full to return the gesture properly.

As I drive away, I glance back at the playground, wondering if you’ll miss us. I am that mom, and while I may seem like I have it all together, it’s a daily struggle that often leaves me feeling alone.

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In summary, being that mom at the playground comes with its own set of challenges and emotions. While we may appear to be worlds apart, our experiences as mothers can often be more similar than they seem.