Hi, my name is Millie, and I'm addicted to my stroller.
I have reached the point where I can't do without it. It's constantly in my thoughts (usually because I'm remembering that I still haven't cleaned out the crumbs and squished banana from the cracks), and I can't go anywhere without it.
My son is over two and a half years old; in fact, I'm just about at the point of saying he's nearly three. And yet, at this ripe old age, he is yet to visit the shops unfettered, free to
walk demurely by his mother's side run like a lunatic through the shops out onto the busy road. I'm just not brave enough to face it. Ok, he's a runner, and a sensory seeker, and has no sense of danger, but still...shouldn't I at least attempt to let him walk? If not now, then when? Will he be fifteen and still lolling about in a stroller, all because I'm too chicken to let him out?
Partly, it's a fitness thing. This is embarrassing, but at two years old (nearly almost three), he can outrun me. And man, can he corner! To misquote Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, this kid corners like he's on rails! My arthriticky old knees and ankles just can't cope, not to mention my poor, overworked lungs which practically burst whenever the Bear puts on a burst of speed. I'm the first to admit that I'm not the fittest person around, but I've never been outrun by a two year old before!
And partly, it's a "public perception" thing. In the stroller, he's still, and I'm in control. Out of it, he's the boss and I'm rubbling the bite marks on my arm from when I tried to hold him back. Or he's lying on the ground, dislocating his shoulder (not
really) in the attempt to get away and run, run like the wind.
And partly, it's convenience. Where else am I supposed to put the shopping bags, other than hanging somewhat dangerously from the back of the stroller (don't tell me you've never done that)? I'm not meant to
carry them, am I?
And chase the Bear? What is this, Boot Camp?
I thought about my stroller a lot this weekend, mainly because I left it at daycare last week, so I've been without it. We borrowed my SIL's yesterday, and even though it's our old one (with the newborn bassinet bit, unlike our umbrella stroller) I hated it with a passion. It was big, unwieldy and awkward. So very, very awkward. It took me three goes to get into the lift at Borders, and I still managed to bruise a total stranger's shins. I'd also forgotten how to collapse it, and I think we've all been there, haven't we, girls. Only usually, it's with a two week old baby and people give us kind, sympathetic looks. When your kid is two (nearly almost three), people just think that really, you should have your crap together by now.
So here's to my stroller, love of my life. Thank you for the many hours you have spent restraining the Bear and carting my shopping around. Thanks for never complaining when I hang bags of dog poo from your handles. Thanks for being so easy to collapse and to...what's the opposite of collapse? Thanks for being a very cool shade of lime green and black, to help me in my quest to be the world's coolest Mummy. Thanks for putting up with being cleaned so infrequently.
I'm picking you up from daycare this afternoon, stroller. I'm sorry I forgot you, left you to fret for an entire long weekend that I was never coming back.
Let's never be apart again.
