by NAOMI COTTERILL
“But I wanna to go to the parrrrrk!”
Those were the words that rang out through our flat earlier this morning. Was this a plea from a bored toddler, sick of being confined to a two bedroom flat with a serious lack of outside space? Or perhaps a teenage socialite desperate to join everyone else rocking Supre’s latest line down at the local playground on a Friday night?
As it happens, I am neither. These were the words that escaped my mouth, a grown up, tax paying, job holding mother, complete with an annunciated ‘r’ and a furrowed brow that would put both the cranky toddler and petulant teenager to shame.
Why the desperation to visit the park? Well I have a 7 month old. This in itself is probably reason enough, especially for anyone else blessed with a little darling around the same age.
Truthfully though, it runs a little deeper than that.
Like every second teenager, desperate to escape on a Friday night, to hang with their friends, gossip and giggle, free of the responsibilities (if you can call them that) of the week past, I craved the same thing. I wanted to get out of a flat filled with baskets of washing to be hung, dishwashers to be emptied and double 00 onesies to be put away. I wanted to meet my friends, also new(ish) mums and drink a large cappuccino (full fat, I live life on the edge) in the sunshine.
Most of all, if I’m honest I wanted to escape the monotony of home and a whingey baby and do something for me. Something where I could pretend, if only for 45 minutes, that nothing had changed. That I could go out and drink coffee at my leisure, taking 5 minutes or 50 minutes, perhaps even ordering a second, or something on the side, and finishing every last drop while it was deliciously, tongue scorchingly hot. I wanted to do what I wanted not what needed to be done. I guess you could say that I wanted to put my needs first, something that doesn’t come easily for anyone wearing the mummy hat.
The problem lay in the shape of a 7 month old that wasn’t really down with going out. A morning without sleep, a messy lunch which managed to completely obliterate the second clean outfit of the morning and a general desire to be a bit of a (very cute) rat bag meant that the park and all the delights it had to offer wasn’t going to work for us. And I wasn’t happy. I really wanted to go.