An Elderly Lady and My Breasts.

Sometimes, you just have those days. Whereby nothing goes to plan. Similar to when you plan an amazing lesson for a class and for no apparent reason, it just turns out to be shit and someone sets fire to themselves with a Bunsen Burner.

So… Let me begin…

It was a beautiful morning. The sun was out. I had my new £8 Accessorize flip flops on my feet (good times). The Baby was up, dressed in clothes, shoes (ultra organized!) and a sun hat, seemingly in a good mood and I had remembered to pack a drink and a sick rag. We were going to the park! The Baby likes trees you see. Thinks they are hilarious. Likes to lean back in the pram and look at them and laugh hysterically. Whilst she does this, I talk to her about the wonder of photosynthesis. Ideally, this will be her first word.

Then I left the house.

Or I TRIED to leave the house. Marge was at the front door. Not a problem for most households, I imagine. My cat however, is special. If we are exiting the house on foot, Marge must be placed IN the house prior to exit so that she does not follow us. If she goes too far, she can’t find her way home. She has to have a special electronic cat tracker on her collar. That’s right.

Some background on Marge:

• ·      She genuinely licks windows. For fun.
• ·      She likes to sleep with her face right up against things. Things like walls. And the side of the sofa.
• ·      She will only eat her food out of our best Habitat bowls. And the location of the bowls have to move approximately every month or she will start to refuse the food.
• ·      She will only drink water from the baby bath, after the baby has had a bath. Or from one of our best Habitat mugs placed in the middle of the kitchen floor.
• ·      She has decided not to use her cat flap anymore. Instead she walks along the bay windowsill of our front room whilst meowing. A human must then open the front door and collect her (she will not come in using her own legs) from the windowsill and deposit her in the hallway.

So Marge was sitting just outside the front door. She bolted as soon as she saw me and The Baby Chariot, because she knew I would grab her. Oh good.

Attempt to call Marge. Negative response. She knows.

Start walking.

Marge following.

Turn and attempt to tempt Marge to my hand using appropriate noises and motions. Marge comes forth until JUST out of my reach then collapses on her side. Attempt to grab, but she’s up and sprinting under a car.

Peer under car on my hands and knees. Too far under to grab.

Turn around and discover have forgotten to put the hand brake on the buggy. 1x buggy wheel has fallen down curb. Baby also being blinded by direct sunlight.

Good.

Rectify Baby situation and turn around. Marge is ‘hiding’ under a plant. Attempt calling. Negative response. Oh… she knows.

Attempt to call Marge’s bluff and decide to just keep walking. Haven’t got time to play this game. Got to get the walk done and be back home, because a member of my family (who wishes to be known as Terry Powerballs) is coming to visit.

As I begin walking, Marge sprints past us by about 100 feet and lies in the middle of the road.

‘GET OUT OF THE ROAD!!

MARGE!

YOU STUPID CAT! GET OUT OF THE ROAD

THIS IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS’

We are nearing the Ring Road. Cat Danger.

Steer buggy into the road to attempt catching of the cat. Notice Baby has lost shoe. Shit. Shoe is on the path. Go to retrieve shoe. Realise I have left Marge AND The Baby in the middle of the road. Run into middle of road.

So just to recap: I am standing in the middle of the road holding a baby shoe, with my one-shoed baby in a pram being blinded by direct sunlight, shouting swear words at my cat, who is now licking an unidentifiable substance off the pram wheel. I have also now developed a sweat moustache.

Marge runs into a nearby driveway. Elderly couple approaching. Push pram over to driveway and pretend I am a friendly resident, making friends with the cat:

‘Come on Margey… Come on… Time to go home now’

Marge is eating a shrub just out of my reach.

Elderly Lady: ‘Oh is that your cat?’

Me: ‘Oh.. haha.. yes.. she’s being naughty and I’m trying to get her home’

Elderly Lady: ‘Oh yes, she comes into my garden all the time’

Me: ‘Oh does she….’ Awkward silence as unsure whether she means Marge shits in her garden all the time. And then, because I don’t know what to say: ‘Well I hope she treats your garden with respect’…. WHAT?!?!

Elderly Lady (approaching pram, which I have left quite a way further down the path… what is wrong with me?): ‘Oh is this your baby?’

Me: ‘Oh yes, she’s mine’

Elderly lady peers in

Elderly Lady: ‘Oh… She’s well fed.’

Right.

I’m pretty sure she just called The Baby fat. Now don’t get me wrong, The Baby IS fat. But that doesn’t mean anyone can just peer at my baby and call her fat!! I mean sure… she’s almost off the special baby weight graph and has 4 chins from certain angles… but still. And even though EVERY person that sees her mentions her weight and even though I have made peace with it, I STILL feel the need to establish that I am not a bad mum, overfeeding her with chocolate and ice cream, but that she is in fact breastfed and therefore it’s completely fine.

Me: ‘Oh yes, she is a little chunk, but it’s all from my breasts.’

That’s what I said.

IT’S ALL FROM MY BREASTS.

I said ‘breasts’ to an elderly lady in the middle of my street whilst my baby was wearing one shoe, being blinded by direct sunlight and my cat was eating a shrub and I was swearing at the cat with a sweat moustache.

I have now been out of the house for 15 minutes. I haven’t even made it to the end of my street.

Elderly couple depart.

Marge continues to follow until we are nearing the end of the road and she will not know where she is. So I have to turn around.

I am now on a completely different trajectory for my educational tree walk than originally intended. Because of MY CAT.

Finally lose Marge and have to walk around the block to get back to where I needed to be on the ring road. Left the house 25 minutes ago. The park is 10 minutes from my house.

Direct sunlight is still blinding The Baby. Put handbrake on. Retrieve special baby parasol from pram storage section. (Won the baby parasol on eBay because didn’t want to pay £35 for a tiny baby umbrella. £6. BOOM.)

Unfortunately the eBay parasol arrived and had the wrong sized clip on it for our buggy. Didn’t even know they did different sized clips. Googled how much for a new clip. Basically as much as a brand new £35 parasol. Brilliant. Welcome to the world of baby paraphernalia.

So we are ‘making do’ with the clip that doesn’t fit.

Except I am now swearing at the clip that doesn’t fit. Because it doesn’t fit. The only place I can get it to fit is a position that blocks 0% of sunlight from The Baby’s face. Try to bend parasol into correct position. It pings back in my face. Attempt 3 more times and sustain 2 further injuries.

People are looking at me from their cars whilst waiting at the traffic lights.

I now have 1x sweat moustache and 2x armpit sweats. These are visible because I have chosen to wear a khaki green T Shirt. Saw in my magazine that khaki was in. Rihanna had a khaki T Shirt. No armpit sweats for her though.

Give up on the parasol and wipe the sweat moustache away. Supermodel mother strolls past with a perfectly positioned parasol and no sweat patches in sight. Want to kick her in the shins.

Contemplate giving up and going home. But NO! MY CHILD WILL SEE THE TREES!!! ONWARDS!

Walk the rest of the distance to the park trying to use my body as a sun shield by skewing my torso at strange angles.

Arrive at park.

Baby is getting agitated at being consistently blinded by the sun. Naturally, the direction in which I have to walk to get to the best tree section is completely the wrong angle for the sunlight getting in her eyes.

I left the house 40 minutes ago. FORTY MINUTES AGO.

In the distance I can see Tree Alley (a section of excellent overhanging trees that is at the correct angle away from the sun). Jog to it. In my flip flops. Whilst trying to use my body to block the sun.

Looking good.

Arrive at tree alley. Have now achieved Chest Sweat Patch. Good.

As this is the only section of trees at an appropriate angle, we must just walk up and down this tiny section.

Finally push down pram hood so that The Baby can see the trees and we can laugh and have a lovely time. The Baby dissolves into tears. Very loud, very unhappy tears.

It transpires that.. ironically, when you reflect on the conversation with the elderly lady…  I have forgotten to feed her.

I wipe the sweat moustache away and the tear of frustration from my eye as I begin the walk home.

I can’t feed her at the park.

Hulk Hogan might see my nipple again.

 

Marge and The Baby. No Direct Sunlight.