Corners Like It's On Rails

You may recall my inane ramblings about prams a while back.  Over the last few months, our giant poo brown and Seventies orange pram has done sterling service.  In the last couple of weeks, though, Alex has been promoted to his shiny new push-chair.  Unlike the pram, it's tastefully coloured and brand new.  (Thanks Hazel and Alan!)  Alex loves it, as it allows him to see the world as it goes past.  Nic and I love it because it's about a ton and half lighter than the pram and folds up much, much smaller.

It's not all good though.  It doesn't go totally flat, so it's not as good for snoozing in.  It's also got much smaller wheels, making it only really good on smooth surfaces.  (Pavement, fine.  Gravel, not so much.)  It has a shopping basket bit, but when you've got a reclining child in the seat you can't actually put anything into it.  The handles don't adjust height wise and aren't quite high enough for me.

It's biggest flaw is also its biggest boon though.  It corners with barely a thought.  That's great for going around corners, but it's also kind of alarming.  Imagine having a really twitchy shopping trolley full of the most expensive wine in Tescos.  Then take it out into traffic.  And make the wine cry.  Sometimes, you just want to go in a straight line, and quickly with it.  the pushchair, however, sometimes wants to go at right angles.  It can be a bit alarming.  The old pram was a pain to corner (you had to press down on the handle to lift the front wheel off the ground), but went in a straight line without thought.  Swings and roundabouts I guess.  Still, for sheer ease of use, the pushchair wins hands down.

Three months old... And it goes a little something like this...

(With apologies to ljck @ superhero. from whom I have blatantly stolen the style and idea for this post.)

In the best traditions of You've Been Framed, this montage should have a tune.  For the full over-ripe, smuggled in from France, escaping off the side of the plate Camembert cheese factor, I'd suggest Sweestest Thing by everyone's favourite Irish stadium rockers, U2.  Just try and not actually listen to the lyrics...

Three Months Old...

Let me count you in Holmes

1...2...  1, 2, 3, 4!

Little Man

Homeward Bound

 

 

Trout and About

 

It's All Relative

 

 

 

 

 

 

Getting Bigger

 

 

Making Friends

 

 

And Influencing People

 

 

 

And In The End...

 

(Ah-ahhh-ah, the sweetest thing...)

P.S.

I can haz guest appearance?

Sibling Rivalry

If people ask me one question these days, it's "How's Alex?"  If they ask two, it's "How's Alex?  And how's Ringo taking it?"  The answer to the second question is fine, as far as we can tell.

For those who don't know, Ringo is our cat.  He's not the brightest of felines - he once got stuck halfway in and halfway out of his cat flap - but he is very cute.  And until recently, he was the cutest thing in the house.  With the arrival of Alex this is no longer the case.

I have to admit, we were a touch worried about what Ringo would think of Alex.  He became very protective of Nicola while she was pregnant.  In the last few weeks before Alex was born Ringo would follow Nic about the house, always keeping one beady eye on her.  If she sat down for more than a minute, he would be on her lap.  Or attempt to be on her lap, anyway.  Pregnant tummy + large cat > total surface area of lap, so there were a couple of awkward moments.  But guarding a pregnant owner is one thing, dealing with the inevitable result is the other.  How would he take to Alex?

The answer was (unsurprisingly to many cat owners I'm sure) that he would just pretend Alex didn't exist.  When Alex first arrived back, Ringo gave him a cursory sniff, then wondered off to eat some food.  That's pretty much been it in terms of cat/baby interaction since then.  Ringo will every now and then look at Alex, then go back to pretending he doesn't exist.  Alex, for his part, will watch the cat if Ringo walks past while Alex is on his mat getting a nappy changed.

The only behaviour we've had to discourage was Ringo's unfortunate tendency to go to sleep in the pram.  Not the comfy, baby containing bit, you understand, but the shopping bit underneath.  You may recall that it's just big enough for 19 toilet rolls.  It transpires that it's also an ideal size for a large, black cat (who is almost invisible when in there).  It's remarkably hard to get a cat out of a shopping basket, I discovered.  At least, it's hard if you want to remain in possession of all your remaining limbs.  Tipping the pram on its side and shaking it turns out to be the best approach.

So other than trying to stowaway on the pram, Ringo has taken Alex's arrival remarkably well.  He hasn't left home.  He hasn't weed on Alex's sheets.  He hasn't decided to sleep on Alex's face.  Phew.  I can tell you, though, that it's impossible to see a cat that's about to twine itself around your feet when you're singing to a baby in your arms.  I've come pretty close to death a few times thanks to that.  So maybe Ringo hasn't taken it so well after all...

Walkies!

15th-30th September 2009

If I had one bit of advice to give new parents, it would be this: never underestimate the power of the pram.  The pram is an item of limitless magical powers.  You insert an angry, crying baby and poof!  It becomes a quiet, happy baby that can be shown off to neighbours in moments.

I'm not sure what it is about the pram that is so soothing.  Ours, as you can see, is a bright, seventies orange inside and poo brown outside.  Alex seems to find the orange particularly appealing and will often spend entire walks staring at the sides of the pram.  Bumps on curbs, which one might expect to be startling, are actually very good at preventing crying.  It's all remarkably counter-intuitive.

Not everything about the pram is good though.  Being a parent increases your tolerance for unpleasant tasks, but nothing helps with having to clean dog crap out of the treads of the wheels.  We now have a dedicated poo-stick carefully hidden beside the front door to help with this task.

Prams are also ridiculously, absurdly expensive.  A middle of the range frame will set you back £300.  If you want any fancy extras like, you know, a seat, you're looking at an extra £75-£150 per item.  (And who isn't going to buy a seat?!  "Oh no, don't worry dear, we'll just gaffer-tape him to the frame.")  A mid-range pram with travel system and carry cot will cost around £500.  And that's far from the most expensive.  What on earth does it do that warrants charging £500?  For that sort of money I'd expect it to walk itself.

It's not even that prams are a low volume specialist item.  Got a baby?  You, sir, need a pram!  And it's not that they really do all that much.  Fold up, fold out.  Clip thing on, clip thing off.  Place drink in cup holder, remove drink from cup holder.

Yes, you read that right.  Cup holder.  There's a pram you can buy that has a cup holder.  It has a warning on it that says "Do not place drinks in the cup holder when your child is in the pram".  Excuse the hyperbole, but has the world gone mad?  What in the name of all that is holy is the point of that?  When am I going to use it then?  Am I just going to take the pram out to carry my drink?  Putting a cup holder on it does not make it car.  It does not make it worth £500!

We were lucky on the pram front.  We got ours from friends of friends for free, for which we are eternally grateful.  It has a carry cot, converts into a push chair and has enough space underneath it for 18 rolls of toilet roll (with a little encouragement).  It folds up enough to go in the boot of the car.  And it makes Alex shut up.

It has nowhere to put my vente latte though.