While pregnant with Bean I spent a lot of time thinking about whether to invest in a double pushchair. E can be a rather ‘spirited’ *ahem* two-year old so I thought I needed to seriously consider how to contain him. I ummed. I ahhed. Before finally deciding not to part with huge amounts of money for a double. I reasoned that E is old enough to walk most places and that if he gets tired I can always push him in his buggy and wear Bean in the wrap.
Oh how I laugh in the face of my naïvety!
Today totally changed my mind about the double pushchair.
Today I learnt the following things, and all before 10.30am…
As I pleaded with E to hold my hand on the way to playgroup I learnt he looks quite menacing as he grins, waves at me ever so slowly and backs into the park at the bottom of our street before sprinting into a puddle.
I learnt that my voice gets quite high pitched and desperate sounding when I try to be calm and firm as E uses all his might to lift our street sign out of the ground and take it to playgroup.
I learnt that despite the fact that E has (on multiple occasions) walked to playgroup and back like an angel, it means nothing because it occurred pre-Bean. Since Bean all behaviour has been rewritten.
I learnt that I am *that* mother; using chocolate and E numbers as a bargaining chip.
I learnt that my desperate pleas for E to behave result only in me wanting to poke myself in the eye. Take a look, I sound incredibly annoying:
Walk sensibly with mummy
Hold my hand
Stop throwing yourself on the floor
Remember we’re going to playgroup – we can play and have a snack and do singing!
No, rolling on the ground isn’t funny
Roads aren’t for running in
Stay away from the cars
The slide is wet
The roundabout is wet
The steps are wet
You’re going to get wet
YOU ARE SOAKING WET
That road sign is stuck
It’s not very nice to roar at the cars as they drive past
No, the baby isn’t bad
Stop running towards the road
I’m getting angry now
No, it’s not funny
Mummy’s not laughing
I am SO angry
Look, this is mummy’s angry face
It’s NOT bloody funny
*Oh dear god, someone shoot me*
THAT’S IT! NO PLAYGROUP, NO PLAYING, NO SNACK, NO SINGING AND *I got quite high-pitched here* ABSOLUTELY NO CAKE!
And that tirade of moaning obviously worked (not) because once I’d given up on playgroup and half nagged, half dragged E home he catapulted himself across the doormat and lay there so I couldn’t get the pushchair in, before launching into a huge, snotty meltdown.
I learnt that realising E had done a poo and had needed to go home for a change all along is, quite frankly, shit consolation for my plans being ruined.
I learnt I need to be a lot more flexible with my plans.
I learnt that the relief I feel on hearing J yell “I’ve chucked the bags on the floor, I’m going to have get E, he’s just pegged it down the road” doesn’t make me a bad person (he’s not just a little turd for me, yippee!).
I learnt that sometimes, on days like today for instance, E pushes boundaries like a pro and he just can’t be trusted to get from A to B on foot.
I learnt that WE NEED A DOUBLE PUSHCHAIR.
Now to choose which of the huge contraptions to go for and find a bargain.
Any suggestions on pushchairs or how to deal with tantrums would be most welcome!