Let me explain you something: Aggressive buggy barging

When I moved to the UK in my 20’s I was struck by how much more walking they do over here.  And I was also struck by buggies.  Strollers, as I would have called them back then.  Strollers being pushed by terrifying, frazzled women hunched over their buggies, loaded down with shopping bags.  They had the look of a demon in their eyes and pushed their buggies with the ferocity of a linebacker at the Super Bowl.  Get in their way and you’re losing a toe.    

‘What’s the matter with these rude people?’ I’d wonder, ’As if having a kid gives them the right!’  I was self righteous and oh-so incredibly stupid.  I know this now because I am the frazzled shell of a woman ploughing down those who fail to jump out of the way.  And let me tell you what exactly is wrong with people like me and what gives me the right:  pushing that buggy is bloody hard! 

So for anyone out there who’s lost a toe to the woman pushing the buggy, let me explain some things to you. 

1) It might be 10 am, but she’s been trying to get out the door with that damn buggy since before you were awake.  – It may be unbelievable that someone who’s been awake since 6am hasn't even managed to do her hair and forgot to brush her teeth.  She’s been making sure the baby’s fed, cleaned, re-cleaned and probably re-re-cleaned.  Then she has to gather nappies, wipes, bottles or snacks, toys, extra clothes.  It’ll have been a miracle if she remembers her purse, let alone her lip gloss.  And those are the easy days when there are no tantrums, teething or baby colds – those days are harder.  She’s trucking that buggy that way because she’s exhausted and lugging more baggage than Rihanna. 

2) She’s in a bigger hurry than you – Everyone has somewhere important to go, but going out with a baby is like being sent out to the shops with a time bomb.  That bundle of joy has no audible ticking, nor is there any red wire we can cut to diffuse it, but he is defiantly set to blow at a specific time.  Mums get good at sensing it in the air.  They know that if lil’ junior doesn't get fed or napped or changed or home by a certain time, there will be hell to pay.   If you don’t make your bus, you’ll be a bit bummed, write a tweet about how it sucks and get on with waiting for the next one.  If that mum with the wild-eyed crazy determined stare on doesn't make the bus, she’s sat with a screaming baby in the bus shelter for the next half hour.   Your glares will let her know it’s no fun for you, but trust me, it’s far worse for her. 

3) She doesn't care about the point you’re trying to prove – She’s just pushed buggy, baby and all 50kg of necessary baby stuff up a hill, over broken pavement and through puddles.  She’s dressed like a hobo, and her hobo rags are covered in baby puke and little crusty bits of baby snot.  She’s had 2-3 hours sleep.  She’s not had sex in 3 months.  She’s remembered the rain cover for the baby buggy, but not her own umbrella.  So when you meet her on the narrow pavement and stay on the side where you are, even though she’s trucking along towards you, she’s not going to move.  It’s not that she’s being a bitch.  It’s not a game of chicken to her.  She really can’t maneouver that buggy as well as you want her to, so be warned.  Move it, or say bye-bye big toe.

4) She’s been dealing with hundreds of pavement hogs already today – She’s also been dealing with doors that aren't big enough for the buggy, shops that are impassable because of steps at the entrance, feeling like a frumpy mess and even feeling guilty that everyone is pissed off that her buggy is in the way.  She really doesn't want to ruin your day.  She really doesn't think she and her child are more important than you.  She’s just trying to make her way through another day filled with obstacles – physical and metaphorical.  She may not have noticed you there amongst all that, or she may have hoped that your common decency would have had you step to one side. 

I know I've been the one on the other side, failing to appreciate the plight of the buggy mum.  Sorry to all those I didn't get right out of the way for - I should have given you all a medal!  Or at least a hug.

Hug

Just about the cutest thing Ethan learned to say over the last few weeks: Hug.  We borrowed a book from the library about a little panda looking for the perfect hug.  Like a lot of the things Ethan soaks in, he didn't seem all that into the hug book at first.  But one morning about a week later, he wandered after me into the kitchen.  Sleepy eyed and still in pj's.  He held up his arms and said, 'Hug.'

Not only is it heartbreakingly cute, but it was also a welcome replacement to the frustrated whinge he had been using to get picked up.  As he's got bigger, he wraps his little arms around, no longer a passive recipient, but an active component of the hug.

But as with all things in Ethan-world, leave it a week and he'll have evolved, learned, progressed.  He soon dialled that 'hug' got him off the floor and closer to the things he finds interesting in a much more predictable way than his wordless whine.  Light switches, computers, shiny knives, hot pans on the stove could all be within reach with a simple 'hug'. 

So we had to be a bit heartless sometimes.  When I'm cooking and Ethan comes along , arms up, chanting 'hug, hug!' I have to say, 'In a minute...'  He doesn't like that and resorts to the wordless whine.  It feels mean, but hug requests while I'm cooking have almost invariably led to him using me as a scaffold to reach out and see how hot the stuff in the frying pan is.  I'm left thinking, Hey, where's that hug?!

So he's employed another word for use when the hug isn't getting him closer to the action - Walk.  Which means 'let me down so I can go to where you won't let me'.  The other day in the grocery store, he wanted to touch everything, throw eggs on the ground and dig into old ladies' handbags.  Proper naughty.  He wanted to grab at something high up and demanded, 'Hug!'  I picked him up, pushing the trolley along with my free hand.  He was not pleased that this 'hug' wasn't actually getting him any closer to the object of his desire.  

'Walk! Walk!' He cried.  I carried on, the shop was almost done and this little man was about to turn monster.  He got more and more upset, struggling against me to get away, until in sheer desperation he turned towards total strangers to help him get to what he wanted.  'Hug!' he yelled at an old woman walking past us in the aisle.  I giggled nervously, hopping the woman wouldn't think he's being kidnapped.  Clever little guy, it was almost enough to get me to give in and let him run riot amongst the old ladies and canned goods.  I can tell I'm going to have keep on my toes with this hug monster!