Sorry…Sorry…Sorry.

I don’t think I’ve ever said “sorry” so much in my entire life.

To be fair, I’m not the most spatially aware individual when it comes to gross motor skills. I have been known on more than one occasion to walk into a doorframe or a wall. I put it down to my long limbs. It should be no surprise to me then that I am equally inept when it comes to driving a pram.

Look, I realize that we didn’t buy the smallest pram available, but I think it’s the best thing ever. I feel like an elite athlete as I’m pushing First Class passenger #1 down to the shops…or the cricket ground…anywhere really. It’s one of those all terrain prams that has a matching all terrain sunshade and storm cover. I’m a little bit in love with it. Cue sponsorship deal with Mountain Buggy. Mini Michael Schumacher loves it too. She lets the wind rush through her poppet Mohawk, taking a breath only to draw back for a little sneeze from the hay fever laden air. Not only does it give her the thrill of her life, this thing is so amazing that it will have her asleep within 4.45min of getting on the road. Amazing indeed.

So whilst I’m totally infatuated by it, I’m not sure if the rest of the world is.

I would consider our suburb a reasonably ‘pram friendly’ suburb. Most shops have enough room in their aisles for you to twinkle toe your way through. I like the term ‘twinkle toe’. It’s what I think my pram looks like as I tip it forward onto its front wheel only to squeeze it through those pesky narrow spaces.  But while in theory many places accommodate our F1, in reality I feel like a big shade clothed nuisance.

The other day in the little organic shop where I buy our coffees I had to ask the shop assistant to mind the kit and kaboodle (baby being kaboodle) while I went down the back to order the drinks. There were just too many crates of Bonsoy and perfectly organic bananas in my way. Every time I tried to twinkle toe I’d bash clumsily into another crate, potentially adding another bruise to those already well bruised bananas. Why do organic bananas always look bruised? I know they are chemical free, but what are they doing – beating the bugs off with a cricket bat?

Of course the shop assistant was incredibly gracious and pretended to keep an eye on her until I arrived back. Happily for everyone Ms Schumacher was well and truly into her 4.45 pit stop so was none the wiser.

Off the topic completely, but interesting nonetheless – our little miss likes to have the sunshade down when we’re out and she’s ready for a snooze. If I don’t put it all the way down she feels obliged to stay all wide owl eyes and stare off into the blur of objects that whizz past her. We roll the piece down and off she goes into happy cocoon land. So we’re often cruising around in this state and I realised today that I was getting curious looks from other mums and dads with their bubs. 

Then it hit me – they think our baby girl is a celebrity tot! 

It’s true, she does look like she’s trawling incognito around the leafy streets. It’s a dark and menacing piece of shade-cloth apparatus; reminiscent of some big black Hummer you’d see dropping P.Diddy off at a red carpet event. You can’t see her in there at all - happily for her if she wasn’t so lulled into it’s blissful sleepiness, she’d be able to see everything going on outside of it. So I figure we’ve got the streets around home completely owned. These other parents must be thinking, “Who has she got in there? The new Honey Boo Boo?” – either that or they’re thinking, “It’s not even that sunny today. She must be one of those hardcore helicopter parents”.

Anyway, I’ve realised whilst I might think this pram is totally rad, I’m not actually that good at driving it, and I’m fairly sure I’ve pissed a few people off with it. I have to confess the other day I ran over James’ feet. I say ‘feet’ instead of ‘foot’ because both copped a crushing. First one, then the other. Once you’re in a situation like that though you’ve got to commit. No reverse and recorrect – you just end up looking like that scene out of Austin Powers. A full ram raid is the only way to get through it. James stood there in disbelief and amusement as after running over the initial foot I remained focused and unshaken, rolling straight over the second. That’s just the way it’s gotta be.

BUT.

Some people are really pram racist.

When you’re walking down an obviously two-way footpath, my feeling is that it’s one per direction. I can happily pass you with your bag of groceries, but I’m not going to cop being faced with you and your flower-carrying friend. That’s not fair. Just because I’m wheeling the goods doesn’t mean I should have to get out of your way. And I often find that I’m prone to giving way to compensate for my insecurity of being a less than amazing driver. But why should I have to apologise for myself? I’m just trying to be a functioning human who’s allowed to leave the house to buy a few groceries without breaking the law for leaving the bublette at home on her own. Nevertheless I find myself sadly sputtering “sorry” out of my mouth every time I negotiate past a duo of less than caring shoppers.

I ALWAYS say "thank you" if someone obligingly drops into line so we can fulfill my one per direction dream. I consider myself very polite. I find myself a little disheartened when someone eyes off the baby machine and opts to make my life even harder, like I should be punished for needing to use a pram for my baby. “You were a baby once too lady! I’m sure at some point someone wheeled you around and I bet you weren’t ostracized for it!” 

Here I am feeling as though I’m doing my little bit by not taking the car and giving bubsicle some fresh, blowaving air, and for some people out there I’m public enemy number one. It doesn’t seem very fair, or more to the point, very sensible. 

We should be embracing our wheely friends people!

Happily there’s a group of society that don’t despise me for my three-wheeler wielding ways. For the most part I find there’s an unspoken understanding between fellow pram pushers – even if it’s a narrow, rickety footpath we all find a way to become the let-in or the let-inerer. (Technical road terms of course)

A nod and a smile and we’re on our merry way; cognisant of the “sorry” each of us may have begrudgingly offered on our way to this spot in the road.

So I’ve decided, no more Mrs Nice Pram Lady Guy. Did I mix my references? 

I am taking a stand – for myself, and for all other baby wheel challenged people out there. If you try your two down the one-way tricks, from now on I will proudly and unashamedly take my place on the path.

I will not swerve.

I will not twinkle toe.

I will not say sorry.

I hope that you all will support me in my endeavour.

And FYI – I’m one of the best reverse parkers you’ll ever meet. I’ll take on any guy who thinks he can do a better job than me. In ANY car. 

I feel better after saying that. 


(Pic: http://www.boatdesign.net/forums/attachments/sailboats/38148d1260417491-dinghy-foiling-hummer-h3-wooden-wagon-wheels.jpg)