MMOF - a lesson in conformity
Today I was massively made of fail. I went into Stratford this afternoon to sort out the last few presents that I needed to get hold of, but being me, I left it until 3pm to do it. So I parked up in Stratford and was halfway through getting Izzy out of the car when I realised that I'd forgotten to bring the baby carrier. Oops. I could have gone home to get it, but that would have eaten nearly all the available shopping time, so I decided to try to muddle through.
I simply carried her for the first couple of shops. She was ever so good, but the problem is that she's over 17lb, and juggling her, my bag and the things I was trying to buy proved to be very difficult - especially as the items in question were a set of bathroom scales and a bread bin! The shop assistants all seemed to think it was funny when I laid her on the counter next to the till whilst I was paying, but I really wasn't comfortable with that.
So, having dropped that shopping back to the car, I put my lovely daughter in a shopping bag, put it over my arm, and carried on. Not a plastic bag, you understand, but a proper reinforced shopping bag. She sat in there quite still and happy, peering at the world out of the top of it. It was awkward to carry, but seemed to work okay - but by God it got me some withering looks and muted muttering from passers by. I wandered past a woman who'd got a puppy in her shopping bag, and we smiled at each other in a conspiratorial fashion and went on our way, trying to shut out the grumbles.
Then the guilt kicked in. I felt that I was some kind of awful mother for carting my daughter about in a bag, and it was pretty obvious that the rest of society was judging me too. Besides, it was still rather awkward, so I caved in. I walked into Mothercare and asked them for the cheapest pushchair they had. Who knew that pushchairs were gendered? Dearie me! Well, I'm afraid Little Iz has the boys' one, as I wasn't going to push her around in something that was bright pink with orange flowers - muted shades of blue are much more tasteful and should match her eyes, dammit!
So having now completely blown the day's budget, I went on my merry way, wheeling my daughter along and conforming to what society expected of me. And Izzy hated it, and was whingey and miserable in a way that she hadn't been in the bag. And I hated having her so near the ground, so far ahead of me, facing away and at knee height to everyone else. Fortunately it wasn't crowded, but even so it was really really horrible wheeling her about like that. Yuk yuk yuk. Curse my forgetfulness. Poor little girl. I hope I never have to use the damn thing again.
I simply carried her for the first couple of shops. She was ever so good, but the problem is that she's over 17lb, and juggling her, my bag and the things I was trying to buy proved to be very difficult - especially as the items in question were a set of bathroom scales and a bread bin! The shop assistants all seemed to think it was funny when I laid her on the counter next to the till whilst I was paying, but I really wasn't comfortable with that.
So, having dropped that shopping back to the car, I put my lovely daughter in a shopping bag, put it over my arm, and carried on. Not a plastic bag, you understand, but a proper reinforced shopping bag. She sat in there quite still and happy, peering at the world out of the top of it. It was awkward to carry, but seemed to work okay - but by God it got me some withering looks and muted muttering from passers by. I wandered past a woman who'd got a puppy in her shopping bag, and we smiled at each other in a conspiratorial fashion and went on our way, trying to shut out the grumbles.
Then the guilt kicked in. I felt that I was some kind of awful mother for carting my daughter about in a bag, and it was pretty obvious that the rest of society was judging me too. Besides, it was still rather awkward, so I caved in. I walked into Mothercare and asked them for the cheapest pushchair they had. Who knew that pushchairs were gendered? Dearie me! Well, I'm afraid Little Iz has the boys' one, as I wasn't going to push her around in something that was bright pink with orange flowers - muted shades of blue are much more tasteful and should match her eyes, dammit!
So having now completely blown the day's budget, I went on my merry way, wheeling my daughter along and conforming to what society expected of me. And Izzy hated it, and was whingey and miserable in a way that she hadn't been in the bag. And I hated having her so near the ground, so far ahead of me, facing away and at knee height to everyone else. Fortunately it wasn't crowded, but even so it was really really horrible wheeling her about like that. Yuk yuk yuk. Curse my forgetfulness. Poor little girl. I hope I never have to use the damn thing again.