14 Aug How park chats can help us through the tough days of parenting
Susan Macciocca finds common ground with other parents while chatting at the park.
The playground: a rare space for connection
We avoid making contact with strangers in our society. On the bus, we avert our gaze. In the lift, we stare blankly at the walls rather than meet someone’s eye. But in the park, kids break the rules. Unbidden, they laugh at each other. They seek the eye contact of other parents, and regard strangers with the curiosity they might display towards a new toy. Once the kids have broken the ice, it’s easy for parents to chat—especially when standing alongside another mum or dad pushing a toddler on the swings.
Finding comfort in brief but meaningful exchanges
An exchange at the swings might bring whingeing, unwelcome advice or just pleasantries, but I’ve had a few precious conversations that have stayed with me. It’s uncanny how musing on life with a stranger as our toddlers swing back and forth has tapped right into the heart of an issue for me. Often, the words exchanged are nothing startling in themselves. Maybe it’s the rhythm of the swing lulling me into reflection.
Or maybe it’s that the words come gently, from someone who’s been there too. Someone with no agenda. And maybe I listen because I know I can take or leave them.
From clangers to kindness: the highs and lows of playground talk
I’ve also had plenty of clanger conversations—full of tactless or unhelpful suggestions. One mum suggested my daughter’s wild (but normal) behaviour needed herbal treatment. Another launched into a whinge about the in-laws. But the beauty of swing chat is that you can shut it down and head for the seesaw. You’re not obliged to listen to hours of advice or suffer every detail of someone else’s bad day. But if the chat does hit the spot, the kids get an extra-long swing.
The swing of early motherhood: a quiet moment of reassurance
One summer morning, soon after my daughter was born, I took the kids to the park early. She hadn’t slept well and cried in the pram as I pushed my two-year-old on the swing. He kept flinging his hat on the ground and thought it was hilarious, but I was too frazzled to laugh.
Another mum approached with two small kids. Her daughter giggled each time my son tossed his hat, and soon all the children were hatless. Their mum and I exchanged weary, bemused looks. And the sharing began.
We talked about the first months after birth, which I had spent in a fog of anxiety—watching for any sign that things were getting easier.
“I just wish I knew when it was going to get a bit easier…” I said.
“I could never look too far ahead,” she replied gently…
Her words struck a chord. They reassured me it wouldn’t always be like this, and reminded me to be patient—with myself, my toddler and my baby. I returned to them again and again.
Struggling with the work-life juggle
One autumn afternoon, I rushed the kids to the park after work. I ushered them from swings to the slide like it was a gym circuit. At another swing, a mum in a tailored suit pushed her toddler, her tiny baby in a pram.
“Sometimes I wonder what I’m trying to do,” I said.
“I know what you mean,” she replied. “At work, I’m a time bomb… and when I get home, I feel this rush of relief—she’s still here and okay.”
We fell quiet, watching our children swing.
“Your kids look well cared for,” she said.
I looked at them afresh. They’re cherished by our nanny and growing in confidence. Instead of guilt, I felt pride in raising two independent little beings.
Letting kids lead the way to connection
It’s a shame we think talking to strangers is strange. I’ve received wise pearls from sharing with a stranger at the swings. Maybe that’s one of the blessings of being around kids. They don’t see the barriers between us—just the common ground.
