I took the girls to our neighborhood playground last weekend and being the wimp that I am, I stuck close to the shade .
I knew I wouldn’t be able to escape the heat too long before the swings, those temptresses of the playground, would be calling.
Before I knew it Miss C was chanting, “Mommy push me, mommy push me, MOMMY PUSH ME!” Miss C’s favorite swing is a large plastic seat behemoth of a swing, which is really designed for children with physical handicaps. I can barely push her in it. In the mean time, Miss A was playing “spy girl” on a ladder and started shouting, “Mommy help, Mommy HELP!” I knew she was just crying wolf but I started to turn toward her as I could feel the other parents on the playground looking at me and thinking, “Can you NOT help your child?” and then I stepped back toward the swing and turned to face it. Before I knew it all 47 pounds of Miss C plus the weight of the swing hit me directly on the bridge of my nose. And it hurt. Like hell. And I fought back tears. My nose had a little scab on it from being scraped by the swing until Thursday and although it was sore I definitely didn’t come close to breaking it, although for about .2 seconds I had fantasies of having rhinoplasty and getting a dream perky Christie Brinkley nose courtesy of my kids and a runaway swing. Too bad their piggy bank funds wouldn’t have covered the bill.