Finding The Happy

Looking for joy in all the right places


19 November 2010

Wham, Bam, How’s-your-pram?

So we began our first foray into the Wonderful World of Little People Carriers.

Walked into David Jones, which seemed to be the only place with a credible range of prams in the whole of the Canberra Centre. And there, we had our introduction to 21st century prams.

It didn’t surprise me when Tony honed in on the Maclarens, but he grew less excited about them once he realised that the quality didn’t quite translate from Formula One. The only brand he’s ever heard anyone talk about is the Bugaboo. “The Rolls-Royce of prams”, as I sagely described them and after looking at the price tag, he concurred. There was an older model Bugaboo going for ~$450 and we’re still thinking about it because, hey! 75% discount! But neither of us could get past that ghastly green…

And then we got to the Stokke Xplory.

Our first impression wasn’t great. It honestly looks like an ominous cross between an alien shopping cart and a dentist chair, and the one on display was in radioactive orange that seemed to scream soundlessly all by itself. But then we got to the gadgetry. And then both our Inner Geeks rose to the fore.

It’s got adjustable everything. Height. Handlebars. Up. Down. Front. Back. It’s even got a ridiculous umbrella accessory you could stick into the side – perfect for a mini-maharaja posse. You could buy a separate pram pack and travel overseas with it.

Most of all, it’s tall. Which means it could double up as a baby chair at the dining table when you’re out. Which also means I wouldn’t be teetering precariously while trying to lower precious bundle into the pram and pull a hernia in the process. Do not forget that my CG will have changed by then and I will, for once in my life, be top heavy. I will not be used to that.

It costs as much as a Bugaboo, but I reckon it’s way cooler. And it could take us from zero years to you’re-too-old-for-a-pram-you-lazy-lad/lass. Nice.

That trip alone got us so stoked, Tony was on the verge of stopping every man with a pram to ask him how he’s finding the handling. It’s kinda cute to watch, really.

Desserts is Stressed spelt backwards

The thing about Growing Blob, right?  Is that I have to seriously increase my dairy intake.

Luckily, this involves – and is not limited to – Connoisseur ice cream. Tonight’s flavour: cookies and cream.

I reckon this is much justified and well-deserved, owing to the absolutely abominable half-week I’ve had with a group of half-wits collectively imbued with too much whimsy, underwhelming foresight, crap listening-comprehension skills, and a death wish.

One of the pregger colleagues (I really have to start giving them shiny names) was telling me how a calm fell over her as soon as she learnt she was expecting. She had become unflappable. “Nothing is worth it,” she told me. “Stress is just so bad for a pregnancy, and nothing is worth risking your pregnancy.”

I think I need to sufficiently scare myself into a coma of calm, because I’ve not been unflappable this week – I’ve been ropable. And if the Western Australian 2008 study on everyday stress in pregnant women is anything to go by, I might inadvertantly be giving my unborn child behavioural problems.

Which sounds like a bag of hooey, really. Because couldn’t another perfectly logical correlation be that aggressive mothers model aggressive behaviour in their young? Which means I’m still doomed, but at least we know it’s not because I “aggressified” my foetus because I yelled at people this week for being very silly. Geez.

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