Going Out to Play

We were invited to a playgroup yesterday morning. Family friend Patty invited us partly to give all of us a chance to escape the house, and partly because her playgroup already had one stay-at-home dad in it, and none of the other mothers could believe that two such dads existed in the greater Des Moines area.

This playgroup met at a state park just outside of town. The park had a playground, walking trails, and several bathrooms sealed behind locked doors because no one in their right mind visits an Iowa state park on a weekday in October. I was a little leery of the weather when I received the invite, but we’ve been basking in warm sunny days during another typically atypical Iowa autumn. As long as temperatures keep peaking in the 70’s, we can still enjoy outdoor activities.

Naturally the morning of the playgroup was the coldest in weeks. Temperatures were in the 50’s, winds were gusting, and rain was in the area. I called Patty to confirm the playgroup was still meeting, and started packing. Sure the kids were all fighting colds, but this was a rare chance to socialize, plus the chill would help keep their lunches at an ideal temperature.

I started prepping the children 20 minutes before my desired departure time. After much trial and error and apologizing for our lateness, I determined that 20 minutes is the amount of time needed to move all children from a barefoot and potentially poopy state into the car. Unfortunately I derived this time in the summer when all I needed to do was strap shoes and socks on Abbie and marvel at the fact that it took me 20 minutes to accomplish that. Now that the weather is cold, I need to slip coats and shoes on everyone, effectively doubling my preparation time.

So we were 20 minutes late leaving the house, and 25 minutes late arriving after I finally found the park. With the weather, that was just as well. Everyone was gathered next to the playground. Nobody was actually on the playground; everyone was huddled in a shelter next to the playground for warmth. I loaded the children, grabbed a ball for Abbie and the other children to chase around the grass, and headed for the shelter.

The playgroup was decorating shirts for their children. In some cases this meant directing the child through proper color selection and drawing technique. In other cases, it meant the parents got to design a really cool shirt for their infant children. Not feeling artistic, I guided Abbie through the decorating process, pointing out the fabric markers for her to color on the white t-shirt. She thought this was pretty cool, almost as cool as drawing on daddy’s important papers. Even cooler was playing with the caps for the fabric markers, clicking them on and off. I accented her random scribbles with fabric spray paint for that “my parents helped, but not much or well” look. She didn’t like spraying the paint, but she did enjoy putting her hands in the spray.

I hung her shirt to dry, cleaned her hands with baby wipes, and let her run around the grass until lunch. The boys needed little maintenance during this time, though I did check on them periodically while Abbie used my negligence to run toward the road or the playground. They suffered a meltdown right before lunch, and I pushed them in their stroller in a vain attempt to coax them to sleep.

When I conceded that they wouldn’t sleep, I fed everyone lunch. Abbie took her food well, except for the homemade cupcake another mother gave to her that wound up tossed on the floor. The boys also ate well, though the instant their bottles ran dry they reverted to meltdown mode. I took this as my cue to leave, and packed everyone back into the car.

As we pulled away, I realized that I didn’t socialize much. I suppose that was because I spent most of my time chasing children and fishing park detritus out of their mouths. It also didn’t help that the other stay-at-home dad didn’t show up.