The Parent I Thought I'd Be — Interruption #46

I will never be that parent who cares about my kids tracking sand in the house.

This was one of many promises I made to myself in my late 20s. I had recently started working for a national nonprofit that builds playgrounds for children, and I was in charge of researching and making the case for the importance of unstructured play.

“Messy play,” as it’s sometimes called, is one particularly beneficial form of play that involves messy materials like sand, mud, and/or paint. As I touted the benefits of messy play on our company blog, I rolled my eyes at the parents who responded by grumbling about how… well, messy it is. Instead of the robust discussion I had envisioned about the benefits of sensory stimulation, the comments section of our blog devolved into rants against sandboxes.

I knew that I’d always prioritize my children’s cognitive development, even if it meant occasionally having to sweep up some sand. Sheesh! Parents these days.

I planned to be a moderately crunchy mother, but I wouldn’t be annoying about it. I would raise healthy eaters and robust readers. My kids would be the ones drawing pictures and devouring chapter books in waiting rooms and on airplanes, not staring listlessly into screens. They would voluntarily snack on nuts. Instead of being chauffered around to extracurriculars, they would bike and scooter around the neighborhood with their friends.

And if they tracked sand or mud into the house? So be it! I wouldn’t be one of those fussy, naggy mothers. Instead I’d be grateful they had an opportunity to engage in messy play.

Oh, I had plans!

Then I had kids.

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