There are definite pluses with having a gap between babies. When this little one arrives my two not-so-teeny bears will be ten and seven (very nearly eight). I have two very able and hopefully willing sidekicks at the ready.
However. This means it’s been nearly eight years since I’ve been in baby-mode. Eight years! There is going to be some serious readjustment going on. It’s turned out to be a blessing in disguise that both my girls have continued to be early birds, so I’m not having to deal with lie-in withdrawal. I’m bracing myself for the night-time wakings though. Boy, I don’t do tired very well. According to my app (and the app doesn’t lie), the baby has been able to hear noises for a little while now, so I’ve already started negotiations about sleep patterns so he’s nice and he understands my expectations. That’s how it works, right?
Readjustment is one thing. I anticipated this from the beginning. What I didn’t expect was to feel like a newbie all over again. I feel like I have forgotten all things baby. Mr C asked me the other night how long you have to be super careful with the baby’s neck and I drew a complete blank. My quick response was that you’re careful until you notice them holding their head themselves, and, with a patronising pat on the arm, told him he needed to understand that all babies develop at their own pace. Nicely blagged Mrs C, nicely blagged. The truth was I just couldn’t remember. There’s so much I can’t remember. It feels like I have baby-dementia. It’s useful in some ways, like forgetting exactly what contractions feel like (I know they bloomin’ hurt but my brain has blocked out the details). But it would be really useful to be able to recall useful stuff like those big practical purchases and how I got organised ready for baby’s arrival. Looking back it all seemed so simple.
Like pushchairs. Bloody pushchairs.
There is one major issue that is making this selection a pain in the bum. Besides my even-worse-than-usual indecisiveness.
We live in the countryside.
I love living in the Yorkshire Dales. But it doesn’t really do pavements. It does grass and country lanes like a boss. Just not pavements. Most pushchairs and travel systems are designed for urban use, and I get that; most of the parenting population doesn’t have to consider negotiating country terrain on a daily basis. Local friends have strongly recommended air tyres as a must, so I’m trusting their experience and expertise and going with that on my search. We discovered the Mothercare Expedior Travel System that had perfect wheels without looking like I was pushing a monster truck – and then our hearts sank when the lovely staff member in the store told us its’ car seat wasn’t isofix fitted. With three in the back of the car and these country roads, I really wanted an isofix carseat. Back to the drawing board.
At the risk of sounding like an old fuddy-duddy, and I know it’s been ten years since we were last on the hunt for a travel system, but the cost of a similar pushchair has tripled since then. Tripled! I keep telling myself that its an investment but when you’re paying that much you want to be pretty confident that it’s going to do the job, right?
Why did everything go and get so complicated? Cue Avril Lavigne.
I am of no doubt that there is indeed such a phenomenon as baby-brain. I usually thrive on being organised but since being pregnant this time around with two other littlies and full time work to juggle, the best I seem to do is let all these decisions swirl around my mind in a muddle. I’m getting really good at pretending the swirly muddle isn’t there until I remember that this process of procrastination has an expiry date that’s creeping up on me. What I need to do is write a get-ready-for-mini-C list and reward myself with cake when I tackle something that needs sorting out.
Cake. If that doesn’t sort me out, nothing will.
If you have used or know of any country-terrain friendly travel systems, or have any advice where to look next, please have mercy on this pregnant country momma and drop me a line!
Mrs C x