Pram Rage

The term I use in this title probably sounds silly, but I am sure every mum must experience it at some time. Some days it’s just the fact that most shops have their aisles and racks so close the pram can’t get through without knocking half of the contents of the shop to the floor. Some days it’s the kids hanging off and weighing the pram down so that you feel like you are dragging a ton in weight along.

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Yesterday I got home from work and found that there was nothing to cook and that I needed a walk. I got the kids ready, loaded the baby into his pram (at two and a half he can walk but won’t hold our hands and we live near a busy road). I tried to get the pram out of the door and found hubby had parked the car so close to the front door that I could not get the pram out, of course I only realized this after I had already completely wedged the whole pram into the door and could get it neither in nor out of the house. I asked Little Lady to try and get the baby out and she gave a half-hearted little tug and declared she couldn’t. In the end I had to climb over the pram, squeeze through the door and get the baby out who was hanging with his legs in mid-air (the pram had tilted forward), not looking very bothered at all.

I finally managed to get the pram shut, out of the door, open again and get the baby back in. We got to the supermarket, and I got our shopping done:
“Why can’t we get the
iced rings
croissants
mini croissants
mini pitta bread
raisins
cakes
chocolate lolly’s
Winnie-the-Poo drinks?”
“Because then I’ll be poor!”
“And because I said!”

By this time we were all tired and the kids were pleading for a bus ride. Of course this was one of my “being extremely stupid” days and after walking the convoluted route to the bus stop I found we were smack bang in the middle of rush hour. We missed the first bus and had to wait 20 minutes for the next one by which time there were queues of people and other prams trying to get on. London Busses and prams are a pet peeve of mine. Every bus driver seems to have his own rule about how many prams are allowed on (I have seen anything from 1 to 5 squashed on) and every time a bus driver tells me to close my pram, I want to deck him – how are you supposed you hold the baby, the shopping and collapse the pram with two hands whilst a queue grows behind you. I thought there is no way I let another pram on when I have been waiting in the cold for so long. Not very Islamic I know, but I wasn’t feeling like a very good Muslimah at that moment. So I barged the mob that was pushing in front of me and with a little help from other passengers got on just ahead of the other ladies. I don’t think my kids had seen me behave like this before!

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Of course, once you are on, the battle isn’t over. You get the narrow little aisle you have to struggle down on the way to the buggy/wheelchair space. There is always some grumpy old cow, sorry “lady” or “gentleman” who sits with their ankles hanging out in the aisle who won’t move and then mutters on about “no manners, them bloody foreigners” when they get hit, thinking you can’t understand what they are saying (I always respond with profuse apologies in my best fake cut-glass accent).

I had to swallow my temper when I got to the pram space and people got up to make way and gave their seats to the older two children. By the time I’d been to the butchers, got home, got the baby and all the shopping out, folded the pram and got the kids and shopping inside I was too knackered to cook. Poor hubby got home to find me trying to get the dinner on at 9.00pm (spicy chicken pasta, lentils and chappati).

So today I am avoiding both cooking and shopping. I am resting, catching up on my blogging, uploading pictures to my flickr account and trying to get my job applications ready for submission on Friday insh’Allah. I have had a ridiculous week at work with someone elses work dumped on me a day before the deadline (tomorrow) and plenty else to do, but insh’Allah after this week things should calm down and I can concentrate on Eid shopping and baby-waiting (another niece or nephew on the way any day now courtesy of one of my sisters-in-law in Pakistan, please pray for her to have a safe and easy delivery).