The playground and my blood pressure

The park.  This place is a child's dream and a parent's nightmare.  The super duper playground by our house has both a slide (yay) and an opening straight to the ground (damn) at every platform.  All.  Six. Platforms.

I'm not particularly religious, but places like this make me believe that there is someone out there pointing and laughing at me.  See, I was blessed with a very cautious little girl.  She's dainty, unless she's throwing shit, but for the most part, she's very careful.  I didn't make her that way.  In fact, I was a tree-climbing kind of kid and hope that mine will be too...you know, when they're older, won't fall and I don't have to watch.  Then I was blessed with a son who is, well, a boy.

So, picture this.  Kaia climbs up the low stairs with Mikko close behind.  Kaia climbs up the short ladder to the tunnel.  Mikko follows.  They stop in the center of the tunnel, I bang on the clear walls and get them good and riled up.  Then Kaia goes left and Mikko goes right.  Uh oh.  So I let Kaia be because she's less likely to walk off the edge of a platform without at least an attempt at holding on to the fireman's pole or monkey bars. I duck beneath the second tunnel to get to the platform between them before Mikko makes it to the edge.  Phew, I caught him before he dove and instead he dives into the second tunnel.  Meanwhile, Kaia is calling me because she wants me to catch her at the bottom of the slide.  I turn around to realize that she's at the top of a VERY high platform, the tallest at the park, and is literally so high that I'm a little sick to my stomach over it.  I imagine her terror (undoubtedly, delight) and rush over to where she's climbing into a gigantic tube slide.  I rush her because I have literally no idea where her brother is.  She finally comes down, her skinny little butt isn't heavy enough to propel her down and she has to scoot from about half way.  I see Mikko's head pop up out of the tunnel and, when he sees me, he turns and runs.  I run through the cedar chips, ducking to avoid, unsuccessfully, bumping my head on metal bars of various shapes, sizes and configurations.  I get to the opening where I last saw my little boy's floppy hair and big grin and he's no where to be seen.  Just then I hear banging on the clear plastic walls of one first tunnel that I had just run underneath.  Both little monkeys are inside, giggling their insane little heads off.

The kids love the playground, but Mommy's blood pressure can't handle it.  The only day I ever took them to the park by myself, when I finally got them safely strapped into their carseats, I sat in the front seat, turned the Disney CD up really, really loud, and balled my eyes out.  Being a mom is really hard.