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Since I have already written two columns on holidaying with the kids, I thought I would tackle a terrifying journey of another kind... going shopping... with kids. Everybody warns you about a lot of things when having a baby... how little sleep you will get, that breastfeeding is not so easy, that you will spend your life cleaning bottoms and waching bottles... but nobody warns you about taking kids shopping. There is no thing as "popping out for a loaf of bread". Oh no. Shopping trips must be planned way in advance, and budget at least an hour for said loaf of bread!
Like going on holiday, any shopping trip begins with packing. And by packing I don't mean throwing your purse in your bag and grabbing your carkeys. This is a long and arduous process. Start with the babybag. A change of clothes, spare bib, couple of nappies, travelpack of wetwipes, travel bumcream, travel disposable nuclear nappy sacks, tissues... and if you're really organised, disinfectant spray, arnica cream and panado drops for emergencies and unforseen boompsies. Now for the travelling baby restaurant: at least two sterlised bottle of pre-boiled water, ready measured canisters of forumula, spare bottle of purity and babyspoon in ziplock baggie, biltong and marie biscuits. And if you're ultra organised, your custom-made babysling and a small folding changing mat. Now for your handbag. Purse, chequebook, cellphone, brush (to brush your hair in the car - the first brush of the day), waterless hand cleanser, handcream, lipstick (unused since baby was born... you have more important things to worry about, like nipple cream...), oh, and a spare nappy, just in case. Now pick babybag and handbag up to take to car... one, two three... HEAVE! My gosh baby stuff weighs a lot. Who needs gym?
Now to pack to the car. Babybag. Check. Handbag. Check. Pram. Check. Toys for the car. Check. All ready, get in, get ready to go. Hmm... nagging feeling you have forgotten something... OH! The baby! Back inside, get baby in picillo, another HEAVE (no wonder us moms have such well developed arms...), strap baby in, and... the smell hits you. Great timing. Unclip baby, take back out, back inside. Semi-strip baby, hold breath, nappy off... try not puke... and realise you packed your last pack of wetwipes in the babybag... in the car. Hold baby rugby style under arm but somehow still manage to smear nappy contents all over your sort of clean sleeves. Back to car, open boot, discover babybag behind pram, heave pram back out using one hand, wrestle to back of car to open babybag, locate and retrieve wipes. Back inside, attempt to wipe bottom, baby arching up, contorting backwards, give keys to distract, complete operation nappy change. Put baby on floor, wash hands, change top. Back to car, bend baby upside down while putting wipes back in bag... baby desposits breakfast on your fresh top. Strap baby back in, bang head on car on way back up. Wait for stars to disappear, go back inside and change top again. Back to car, FINALLY ready to go. Except. Keys. Still inside. Back out car, back inside, keys not at changing table. Search immediate vicinity, locate behind compactum, HEAVE compactum forward, reach for keys, HEAVE back. Back to car, halfway out door, phone rings. Dash it all. They can phone back.
So finally you get to the shopping mall. You strap your baby in her pram, babybag and handbag on the back of the pram, baby happily reconstituting a biscuit to mush. Realise when you get into woolies that you have nowhere to put your groceries. So you balance a basket over one arms and try manoevre the pram with the other. Apologise repeatedly to people you bash into. Baby starts getting grumpy, give her carkeys to play with. Finally get around to paying, HEAVE groceries onto handles of pram (along with the babybag and handbag), and watch in hypnotic fascination as the pram tips backwards in slow motion, so that baby is staring up at you with round eyes... and every other shopper within a five meter radius is staring at you with horror, I mean what kind of mother are you? So you move your handbag onto one shoulder and the babybag onto the other, groceries over handles of pram and make a hasty getaway to the lifts, by which time baby has realised the error of your ways and starts screaming. FINALLY the lift arrives, the door opens... and everybody standing in the lift stares back at you as the doors close again and the lift proceeds to the next floor. You repeat this process for another ten minutes until finally you spot a gap just big enough for maybe you to fit in, you are not sure about the pram, but make a dash for it anyway, riding over people's feet, but by now you are beyond caring and glare back at them as you reach over and push the button for the parking level.
You pack the car at record level speeds, get baby in, and head home, promising yourself that you will never ever go shopping alone again, at least until baby is walking... not realising that a baby in a pram is in fact far easier than a toddler running off in all directions, but that's a story for another day...
© Sally Hetherington .
