Diary of a Working Mum

Whether you are a first time parent or have multiple children, birthday parties are a obligatory staple of a child’s early years. My daughter was just about to turn one when she got her first party invitation. It was her cousins 3^rd birthday, and the party was being held at a local soft play centre.

I had braved soft play a few times before, and ended up a flustered mess each time. The last time I took my daughter, we were ambushed by older children who were playing roughly in the baby play area. They must have been about 8 or 9 years old. At first, their behaviour was annoying but I had managed to get my daughter into a quiet corner and things were okay for a while. That was until they started throwing foam bricks in our direction, causing my daughter to get upset and scream at the top of her voice.

I distracted her by taking her back to the tables, and telling her it was snack time. I could tell that she was not happy with this. Within ten seconds, she expressed her disapproval by bursting into a fiery, scathing toddler tantrum. Her face was scorching red, as she thrashed her body around in my arms. Her eyes were all puffy. The tears and sweat had caused her hair to stick to her face, making her look greasy and ready for a good wash.

Instead of staying calm like the big ass adult that I am, I also broke down. Tears bounded down my face, whilst my heart thumped so hard that heart failure seemed a genuine possibility in that moment. I could hear the conversations around me slowly fade and come to a stop as my daughters crying got louder. I could feel the eyes of the other parents lasering into my back. I knew that the judgement in the room was as high as my desire to win the lottery.

As I fumbled around trying to get my daughters shoes and coat on, and packing up my bag, my head started to throb. Adding to my distress was the screaming of about forty children who were all fuelled by almost illegal levels of sugar. The chattering of the parents soon resumed but this time it was quieter than before. Of course, I knew they were talking about me. The paranoia caused my headache to increase in severity and I was sure I would turn into a migraine. Then there were the unnecessarily loud announcements that staff made over the tannoy. My daughter was still thrashing around, getting more out of control by the minute. I bolted to the door, desperate for some fresh air. I was loaded up like a pack horse, changing bag on one arm, my handbag on the other arm, two drinks I had bought my daughter and was clutching my phone in one hand whilst trying desperately to keep hold of my daughter.

I often saw other children having meltdowns, and I never judged the parents. I was too consumed in my own anxiety. Maybe it was my anxiety making me believe I was being judged, when I really wasn’t.

As the soft play parties became more frequent when my daughter started nursery, I started to get used to them and got better at knowing how to deal with situations better. However, even when my daughter got to four years old, she still would not go into the soft play on her own. She would not even go in with friends. It had to be with me. She would stand at the side of me, pulling at my clothing and whining, until I succumbed to her request. This became quite problematic, because I was trying to build relationships with the other parents over a warm cup of coffee. Not being able to sit with the other parents to chat and bond made me dread soft play parties. On the other hand, I loved to see my daughter having fun, and exploring.

Let me know your experience with soft play!

Cheerio

E x