The Ever Shrinking Playground Swing

One of the things I loved most about recess as a kid, was the swings. I ran as fast as I could to beat the other kids at what seemed was "musical swings" -there were never quite enough swings to go around. I hopped into the seat, and pushed back as far as I could and then let myself go, pumping my legs with great pride. The goal was to be the "highest swinger" and on occasion, depending which swing you had, it was fun to touch the leaves of the trees with your feet or head. I remember feeling like there was no better feeling in the world then feeling that rush of wind in your face and fearing you might fall of the swing at any moment because you were so high. If you were maxed out on the height you could go, the swing would give a little jarr like you were going to fall, it never happened but it sure gave my stomach butterflies.

And if you were really brave, you would jump out of the swing when you were in mid air, and pray not to get hurt or worse, caught by the aide on the playground. That would for sure get you a time out on the wall, and it was always worth it too.

I revisited my old friend, the swing on the playground today. Though it wasn't the same one from my childhood, it still looked like it would do the job. Circumstances were also different today, I am not a small child any more and I actually had my 2 girls with me. As I sat upon the swing all kinds of memories flooded my mind. My youngest wanted to sit on my lap while I swung us. I agreed, afterall the aides at school never let us do that and I was an adult now, and it was my turn to make the decisions and I was choosing rebellion. I pulled her up on my lap and we began to descend down memory lane. Funny thing about memory lane, It usually never is how you remember it being. IT only took about 15 seconds and 3 pumps of my legs to realize that my arms weren't as strong as they must have been before, it was hard to hold onto the chain. Not only that, my hands hurt. Then there was the whole nausea thing. I felt so dizzy within seconds, and quickly learned that closing your eyes, does not help. It makes it worse. After toughing it out for several minuets, because my youngest was having a great time, my 6 year old informed me that "mom, your bum is supossed to sit on the swin part." I then informed her that my "Bum: was a little bigger then it used to be. I then procceded to casually,ask her if the swing hurt her bum at all. "No" she replied. "Oh, it hurts me." I responded. "Well, it doesn't hurt me because I"m skinnier then you." I must of looked pathetically hurt, because she quickly back pedaled " I mean, your just bigger then me." Not helping, -more pedaling " I mean your a mom" no matter how it was said, she was right I was bigger I was a "mom" now and all i could think of was abandoning the thing that once brought me so much joy. My hands hurt, my arms were tired, I was going to lose my lunch at any minuet, and my bum region hurt because I was too big. Stupid swing.