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Stroller Coaster
Ah, strollers . . .
Yes, yes, we’re not supposed to like Maggie Gyllenhaal’s character in that movie. They did a nice job synthesizing all the sanctimommiest parenting-message-board attitudes into one character there, and I have to admit I enjoyed it. We’ve all been on the receiving end of sanctimommy judgment at some point, haven’t we? I’ve had two c-sections, myself. I know all about it.
Still, I’ve never been a big fan of strollers. I came into parenthood with a copy of Our Babies, Ourselves tucked under my arm, determined to avoid one if at all possible. I didn’t like how much space they took up, for one thing. I’d see some poor mom trying to make it through a crowded store with some double-seated monstrosity and realize, “Uh-oh, this baby thing isn’t going to be as much fun as we thought.” Saving money and a general Anxiety of Stuff contributed, too. I was seven months pregnant when my company closed its Seattle field office. Nothing like becoming unemployed with a big list of Stuff To Buy For Baby in your hand. We were determined to cut corners wherever possible.
And . . . yes, I really did buy the argument that it would be better to keep my baby physically closer to me. Even after the baby arrived and all sorts of realities and disillusionments set in, I absolutely loved holding him, carrying him. It seemed like a dream. That noble, sleeping little face. I never wanted to let him go.
It was a few months before I finally gave in. We’d been for a walk with some of my new mom friends and their babies on a hot, humid day. My poor little guy was so sweaty and uncomfortable in his Björn while the other babies lounged luxuriously under their strollers’ canopies, snoozing or blissfully gumming their toys. Plus, that Björn really did a number on my aching shoulders.
So, I swallowed my ideals and bought my first-ever stroller – one of those things that looks sleek and easy until you stuff your infant seat in it and start pushing it up a hill (unavoidable in Seattle). It was easier in some ways, but I still wasn’t a fan. I had this recurring dream that I was pushing a wayward shopping cart across a busy street. The stroller was tricky to collapse, and it was only a few months before I accidentally broke it. The stroller company was good enough to send me a replacement part and talk me through the repair over the phone. A few months later, I broke it again.
As soon as The Boy was big enough to make do with an umbrella stroller, I went out and bought the cheapest one I could find. It was great! The thing was lightweight and easy to steer. And . . . it broke in a matter of months. I replaced it with another cheap-o until that one broke. And another. Our last cheap umbrella stroller broke in a most spectacular fashion: right in the middle of a very crowded Smithsonian Museum of Natural History, loaded down with snacks and my heavy backpack (stupid!), while The Boy made a run for his favorite dinosaurs. Somehow, we managed to patch the thing together and get it back to my sister’s place on the Metro in one . . . well, two pieces, really. But that was the last straw.
I went to Babies R Us and picked out a nicer umbrella stroller that was really sturdy with a lot more material on it. Done and done. Yes, it cost $200. Yes, technically that meant I was joining the ranks of the “Fancy Stroller People.” I didn’t care. I just needed a tool that worked.
Little Girl had joined us by then. I’d successfully managed to avoid a double stroller by carrying her everywhere in a Moby Wrap – much easier on my back, and very comfy for baby. The Boy preferred walking instead of strolling whenever possible. Well . . . running, really. Or stopping in the middle of a busy street to hit a piece of squished gum with a stick, or stopping in the middle of a downpour to examine a splatter of bird poop at close range. He knew not to run into the street, but driveways were still a challenge. Our stroller-free walks were fraught with anxiety and frustration. For me, anyway. The kids were having a great time.
Little Girl made it to toddlerhood before she outgrew the Moby and inherited the “fancy” stroller. And there she strolled for many a happy month, until . . .
The Maclaren recall.
Surely you’ve heard of this one. Turns out those fancy, sturdy, comfy, easy-to-use strollers also have a tendency to snap together in such a way as to chomp a baby’s wandering fingers right off. *Shudder*
I didn’t freak out. After all, I’d survived an entire childhood of products that were later found to choke and strangle little children. Besides, I always set the stroller up before putting her in it, and her fingers are usually safely clutching a stuffed animal instead of wandering hinge-ward.
Still, I was a bit taken aback by the gleeful public animosity in response to the recall. “Ha! Take that, Fancy Stroller People!” someone commented on a friend’s Facebook page. Really? Finger amputation is a worthy come-uppance for owning a “fancy” stroller? Mine wasn’t even that fancy anymore, after all those years of rainy walks and a disastrous spill incident or two. I’d try lamely pointing that out, but the prevailing attitude seemed to be one of giddy class warfare. Those strollers are expensive! And they take up too much space on the sidewalk! Off with their fingers! (Maybe Maggie Gyllenhaal’s character in Away We Go wasn’t such an exaggeration after all.)
Anyway. I filled out the form for my little anti-finger-chomping devices to install on the stroller. Two rather underwhelming canvas zipper pouches arrived in the mail 7-10 business days later, just in time for our annual trip to Pennsylvania for Christmas. I wrangled them on as best I could, and we were on our way. Unfortunately, those pouches apparently caused some suspicion on the flight. It looked as if some cautious airport security person, confounded by the child-proof zippers, had ripped them open to make sure we weren’t smuggling any explosive devices on board. (And yet, the underwear bomber managed to elude them…)
Oh well. She’s three years old now. According to some pediatricians, that’s old enough to boot your kid out of the stroller. So, instead of fixing the zippers and reinstalling the anti-finger-chompers, I decided it was time for a little stroller weaning.
In some ways, it’s more cumbersome to be walking along with a three-year-old instead of pushing them in the stroller. Just like her brother at this age, she is hypnotically compelled to examine pieces of litter and dog poop with scientific precision, oblivious to the rain or approaching cars or the fact that we’re late. She has a strong preference for walking on uneven surfaces instead of the sidewalk, seeking out bits of rocks and branches to step on. (I remember reading somewhere that walking on uneven surfaces improves motor skills, so I’ve been letting her do it.) I always feel like I’m taking up so much space with a stroller, but I don’t think we’re taking up any less space without it. She goes at her own pace, coming to abrupt halts or zig-zagging back and forth across the sidewalk as we go.
But at least I can pick her up and move her out of someone’s way if need be. We can get in and out of the car without the endless folding and unfolding of the stroller. We can take the stairs instead of seeking out ramps and elevators (or bumping precariously down a flight of stairs with her in the stroller). And it’s such a nice feeling to walk down the street with a kid holding each hand. It’s like the closeness of “baby wearing,” but much, much easier on the back.
So, farewell, stroller. Don’t let the door hit you on the finger-chomping hinges on the way out.
Yes, yes, we’re not supposed to like Maggie Gyllenhaal’s character in that movie. They did a nice job synthesizing all the sanctimommiest parenting-message-board attitudes into one character there, and I have to admit I enjoyed it. We’ve all been on the receiving end of sanctimommy judgment at some point, haven’t we? I’ve had two c-sections, myself. I know all about it.
Still, I’ve never been a big fan of strollers. I came into parenthood with a copy of Our Babies, Ourselves tucked under my arm, determined to avoid one if at all possible. I didn’t like how much space they took up, for one thing. I’d see some poor mom trying to make it through a crowded store with some double-seated monstrosity and realize, “Uh-oh, this baby thing isn’t going to be as much fun as we thought.” Saving money and a general Anxiety of Stuff contributed, too. I was seven months pregnant when my company closed its Seattle field office. Nothing like becoming unemployed with a big list of Stuff To Buy For Baby in your hand. We were determined to cut corners wherever possible.
And . . . yes, I really did buy the argument that it would be better to keep my baby physically closer to me. Even after the baby arrived and all sorts of realities and disillusionments set in, I absolutely loved holding him, carrying him. It seemed like a dream. That noble, sleeping little face. I never wanted to let him go.
It was a few months before I finally gave in. We’d been for a walk with some of my new mom friends and their babies on a hot, humid day. My poor little guy was so sweaty and uncomfortable in his Björn while the other babies lounged luxuriously under their strollers’ canopies, snoozing or blissfully gumming their toys. Plus, that Björn really did a number on my aching shoulders.
So, I swallowed my ideals and bought my first-ever stroller – one of those things that looks sleek and easy until you stuff your infant seat in it and start pushing it up a hill (unavoidable in Seattle). It was easier in some ways, but I still wasn’t a fan. I had this recurring dream that I was pushing a wayward shopping cart across a busy street. The stroller was tricky to collapse, and it was only a few months before I accidentally broke it. The stroller company was good enough to send me a replacement part and talk me through the repair over the phone. A few months later, I broke it again.
As soon as The Boy was big enough to make do with an umbrella stroller, I went out and bought the cheapest one I could find. It was great! The thing was lightweight and easy to steer. And . . . it broke in a matter of months. I replaced it with another cheap-o until that one broke. And another. Our last cheap umbrella stroller broke in a most spectacular fashion: right in the middle of a very crowded Smithsonian Museum of Natural History, loaded down with snacks and my heavy backpack (stupid!), while The Boy made a run for his favorite dinosaurs. Somehow, we managed to patch the thing together and get it back to my sister’s place on the Metro in one . . . well, two pieces, really. But that was the last straw.
I went to Babies R Us and picked out a nicer umbrella stroller that was really sturdy with a lot more material on it. Done and done. Yes, it cost $200. Yes, technically that meant I was joining the ranks of the “Fancy Stroller People.” I didn’t care. I just needed a tool that worked.
Little Girl had joined us by then. I’d successfully managed to avoid a double stroller by carrying her everywhere in a Moby Wrap – much easier on my back, and very comfy for baby. The Boy preferred walking instead of strolling whenever possible. Well . . . running, really. Or stopping in the middle of a busy street to hit a piece of squished gum with a stick, or stopping in the middle of a downpour to examine a splatter of bird poop at close range. He knew not to run into the street, but driveways were still a challenge. Our stroller-free walks were fraught with anxiety and frustration. For me, anyway. The kids were having a great time.
Little Girl made it to toddlerhood before she outgrew the Moby and inherited the “fancy” stroller. And there she strolled for many a happy month, until . . .
The Maclaren recall.
Surely you’ve heard of this one. Turns out those fancy, sturdy, comfy, easy-to-use strollers also have a tendency to snap together in such a way as to chomp a baby’s wandering fingers right off. *Shudder*
I didn’t freak out. After all, I’d survived an entire childhood of products that were later found to choke and strangle little children. Besides, I always set the stroller up before putting her in it, and her fingers are usually safely clutching a stuffed animal instead of wandering hinge-ward.
Still, I was a bit taken aback by the gleeful public animosity in response to the recall. “Ha! Take that, Fancy Stroller People!” someone commented on a friend’s Facebook page. Really? Finger amputation is a worthy come-uppance for owning a “fancy” stroller? Mine wasn’t even that fancy anymore, after all those years of rainy walks and a disastrous spill incident or two. I’d try lamely pointing that out, but the prevailing attitude seemed to be one of giddy class warfare. Those strollers are expensive! And they take up too much space on the sidewalk! Off with their fingers! (Maybe Maggie Gyllenhaal’s character in Away We Go wasn’t such an exaggeration after all.)
Anyway. I filled out the form for my little anti-finger-chomping devices to install on the stroller. Two rather underwhelming canvas zipper pouches arrived in the mail 7-10 business days later, just in time for our annual trip to Pennsylvania for Christmas. I wrangled them on as best I could, and we were on our way. Unfortunately, those pouches apparently caused some suspicion on the flight. It looked as if some cautious airport security person, confounded by the child-proof zippers, had ripped them open to make sure we weren’t smuggling any explosive devices on board. (And yet, the underwear bomber managed to elude them…)
Oh well. She’s three years old now. According to some pediatricians, that’s old enough to boot your kid out of the stroller. So, instead of fixing the zippers and reinstalling the anti-finger-chompers, I decided it was time for a little stroller weaning.
In some ways, it’s more cumbersome to be walking along with a three-year-old instead of pushing them in the stroller. Just like her brother at this age, she is hypnotically compelled to examine pieces of litter and dog poop with scientific precision, oblivious to the rain or approaching cars or the fact that we’re late. She has a strong preference for walking on uneven surfaces instead of the sidewalk, seeking out bits of rocks and branches to step on. (I remember reading somewhere that walking on uneven surfaces improves motor skills, so I’ve been letting her do it.) I always feel like I’m taking up so much space with a stroller, but I don’t think we’re taking up any less space without it. She goes at her own pace, coming to abrupt halts or zig-zagging back and forth across the sidewalk as we go.
But at least I can pick her up and move her out of someone’s way if need be. We can get in and out of the car without the endless folding and unfolding of the stroller. We can take the stairs instead of seeking out ramps and elevators (or bumping precariously down a flight of stairs with her in the stroller). And it’s such a nice feeling to walk down the street with a kid holding each hand. It’s like the closeness of “baby wearing,” but much, much easier on the back.
So, farewell, stroller. Don’t let the door hit you on the finger-chomping hinges on the way out.
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Comment by kanachick on January 31, 2010 at 5:20am -
I went to the mall with the kids last weekend and totally missed the stroller. I had to carry their coats and all the stuff. My kids never spent much time in the stroller (they just weren't stroller kids) but it sure was handy to have a place to put all the crap that goes along with having kids and roll it rather than carry it.
Honestly, the invention of the wheel is a good thing.
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Comment by Herasmus B. Dragon on January 31, 2010 at 5:51am
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I have had the same humungo stroller for the last 7 years, and with Ebay, it really IS just that wayward shopping cart. She doesn't ride in it so much, and she certainly doesn't sleep in it (the one time she did I actually called Hubby to comment in amazement) but it's great for holding purchases, the diaper bag, the travel potty, 4 thick winter coats and all accoutrements, and 4 drinks for thirsty shoppers. Much better than renting the mall's SmarteCarte.
I bought it when O was a baby so we could walk up and down Portland's hilly parklands for super exercise, and it worked wonders. It only cost me $125, so I don't think it qualifies as a "fancy stroller". I see people here in NoVA pushing these $1200 ridiculously impratical things and I secretly giggle at the waste. THEY are the fancy stroller people. Yes, I'm talking about YOU, Stokke!
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Comment by Mamawho on January 31, 2010 at 7:08am
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HBD - every now and then, I see an Inglesina - starting at about $1000 or a Silver Cross - around $2000. Saw those in Oak Park, too. Always pushed by a nanny. It's a bit surreal - this super-traditional pram being pushed by a trendy college kid with a hunk of gum in her mouth. You'd expect SuperNanny or Mary Poppins. At least a pinafore.
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Comment by Daria on January 31, 2010 at 9:18am -
We love our stroller, but we were probably suckered in with the name: A City Mini. It seemed like a perfect fit for us. But it goes lots of use the first year, but after he started walking, he either wanted to walk or be carried. And tracking him and a stroller is generally disastrous. And riding the bus just is easier without it. My neighbor tells me that in Sweden there is "pram parking" on the bus. It made it want to move to Sweden. The Ergo has made a re-appearance for the "carrying" occasions.
Oh, and the City Mini also had a recall--apparently if the child would jerk forward fast enough the strap latch would give.
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Comment by The Oracle on January 31, 2010 at 5:14pm -
Oops, I didn't know I wasn't supposed to use a stroller! ;)
We went to the Everett Children's Museum a couple weeks ago and were surprised to find they have a "No strollers" policy (I thought, "What? No strollers, This is a children's museum, for Christ's sake!"), but if you leave your driver's license, they'll loan you a baby carrier. When I said I couldn't use a carrier because of my four bulging disks and seven arthritic vertebrae, they promptly gave me a pre-printed, laminated sign to hang on the stroller that said it was allowed in for medical reasons.
The following week, I was at the Pacific Science Center, alone with the two boys, and was asked to leave the stroller outside of the butterfly exhibit. Makes sense, but again I asked for a medical exception. This time there was a lot of huffing and eyebrow-raising. I almost pulled out the, "Would you make a person in a wheelchair leave their chair outside?" line but he relented at the last moment. Still, I felt like I was being watched like a criminal the entire time we were in there, as if we were actually wielding the stroller with intent to kill the poor innocent butterflies.
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Comment by Floor Pie on January 31, 2010 at 6:08pm -
Oh, Oracle, my sympathies! They take their butterflies very, very seriously at that place. I've yet to see one of those museum people smile when they let us in.
And yes, I forgot to mention the "Stroller as Smarte Carte" factor. I've definitely been missing that! Last week we actually left The Boy's coat and backpack on a park bench b/c I'd gotten so used to just having all our stuff packed away in the stroller. Luckily it was all still there when we went back...
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Comment by Andromeda on January 31, 2010 at 9:41pm -
we went to a home and garden show today and i was super thankful to have our stroller even if it did require us to take up more room than one 13lb baby boy on his own would take up. i would have used the ergo, but he's at an awkward size for it: too big to go sideways like an infant, yet still a little small to ride belly to belly with me (i think it hurts his groin a little to have his legs spread so wide for too long). also, i gained a bit of weight wile pregnant and carrying my weight plus his is a killer on my feet!
of course Maggie Gyllenhaals voice saying "why would i want to push my baby AWAAAAY from me?!!" kept echoing through my head. lol!! "BECAUSE HE GETS HEAVY BEE-YOTCH!"
what i don't get are the people who push around their 5 and 6 year olds in a stroller. yeah, i know that sometimes there is a very valid reason for it, but i noticed today that there are A LOT of people who jam their too-big kids into strollers just so they don't have to actually pay attention to them and keep them from wandering off. (at least, that's the best i can figure!) D did really good today staying nearby and listening to us. (thank freaking FSM!) he would have gone nuts being forced to sit in a stroller instead of out and learning and talking to poeple!
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Comment by Floor Pie on February 1, 2010 at 12:27am
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Andromeda, that is one of my mom's biggest pet peeves. Don't get her started on kids age 5-and-up in strollers.
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(Shh, MNM, don't tell them The Little Miss rode in Ebay's stroller at the zoo!)
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Comment by Daddy Geek Boy on February 1, 2010 at 10:47pm
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I have a severe dislike for the strollers we have. The one that was light steered like a shopping cart with a bad wheel. The one that was expensive didn't fold well. The one that fits both kids is HUUUUUUUGE. Thankfully, one kid is old enough to walk and the other doesn't mind sitting on my shoulders. The stroller, we use it to hold our food when we go to the farmer's market.
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