Mom Truth #4 – Going to the Park Is Like a Military Operation

People say, “Just take the kids to the park, it’s free.”
HA. Those people clearly don’t have five children.

Because here’s the truth: going to the park with my lot is less of a “relaxing family day” and more of a logistical nightmare that requires military-level planning. I don’t casually stroll to the swings — I march out of the house like a soldier heading into battle, fully armed with snacks, wipes, and a vague prayer that no one ends up in A&E.

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The Packing List of Doom

Every trip to the park starts with The List. You’d think I was heading on a three-week hike through the wilderness, not half an hour to the swings. But if you forget even one item, you’ll regret it.

Here’s what makes the cut:

• Baby wipes. Because toddlers wait until you’re miles from home to have a “situation.”

• Plasters. For scraped knees (every single time).

• Snacks. Multipacks of crisps, bananas, and the obligatory “mum snack tax” (the hidden chocolate bar I don’t share).

• Water bottles. Five kids = five bottles = one million arguments over whose is whose.

• Spare clothes. Because SOMEONE will “accidentally” sit in the splash pad.

• Scooters, football, Frisbee, and at least 47 sticks. (Collected en route, obviously.)

By the time I’m ready, I look less like a mum and more like a sherpa climbing Everest. Except Everest climbers probably carry less.

An expensive bag has done me well, I've had this bag for 8 years → Click here

• Backpacks or rucksacks → “Honestly, the only thing that saves me is a sturdy rucksack. My back would have given up by now otherwise.”

• Reusable water bottles → “Game changer. I refuse to spend £2.50 on bottled water x five kids.”

• Snack tubs or cool bags → “They keep the sandwiches fresh and stop the crisps getting flattened into dust.”

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The “Fun” Once We’re There

We finally arrive, and this is how it goes every. single. time.

• The toddler face-plants within seconds.

• The 7-year-old insists on pushing him on the swing… at NASA launch speed.

• The 9-year-old sulks because someone else dared sit on “her” swing.

• The teens roll their eyes, refuse to join in, and ask for Wi-Fi passwords. It’s a park, kids. The only free connection here is grass stains.

Meanwhile, I’m standing in the middle, juggling snacks, breaking up squabbles, and wondering why I didn’t just stay home and let them fight over the TV.

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The Ice-Cream Van Conspiracy

Just when I think I’ve survived, the ice-cream van appears. I swear it lurks nearby until it hears my children’s voices. The tune starts, their heads whip round, and before I can blink, they’re all lined up like it’s the best day of their lives.

Do I say no? Of course not. I cave, but on a budget I share with the driver!
£15 later, I’m watching the toddler lick his ice cream ONCE before dropping it face-down in the sand. Cue screaming. Cue me buying another one.

💡 Affiliate opportunities here:

• Insulated tumblers for parents → “Honestly, next time I’m packing my own iced coffee in a proper insulated tumbler. At least then one of us is happy.”

• Cheap picnic blankets → “Because trust me, your child will drop their ice cream.”

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Money-Saving Hacks (That Keep Me Sane)

Over the years, I’ve learned some tricks to stop the park draining my wallet:

1. Pack food from home. A chicken sandwich from the kitchen = £1. A hotdog from the visitor centre = £12 daylight robbery.

2. Reusable bottles. £2.50 water at the shop x 5 kids = no thank you. Refill from home, job done.

3. Say no (sometimes). Easier said than done, but if you give in every single time, you’ll be broke by summer. My rule: “One ice cream trip a week. The rest = bring your own treats.”

4. Stick to free fun. Swings, slides, stick collecting, running races. All free. All chaos. All memories.

💡 Affiliate opportunities here:

• Lunchboxes and cool bags → “My cool bag has saved me a fortune over the years. I take crisps, sandwiches, and drinks. The kids complain, but my bank card breathes a sigh of relief.”

• Budget-friendly family memberships (like National Trust or Kids Pass) → “If you want variety without breaking the bank, memberships pay for themselves fast.”

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The Real Mom Truth

Park days are not relaxing. They’re loud, sticky, and guaranteed to involve at least one meltdown (sometimes mine). But — and here’s the bit I cling to — they’re also the days the kids remember.

When I see the toddler squealing on the slide, or the teens (begrudgingly) kicking a football with their younger siblings, I remember why I bother lugging half my house to the swings.

Yes, it’s chaos. Yes, I return home knackered, sweaty, and with grass stains on my linens. But it’s also worth it. Because one day, they’ll be too old for the swings, too cool for football, and too busy for the park.

And then I’ll miss being the snack mule. (Probably.)

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👉 Next in Mom Truths: The Toddler Doesn’t Need Toys. Spoiler: why did I even buy toys when his favourite things are a spoon, a cardboard box, and my sanity?