Let’s bitch about hazardous toy boxes. I have always been of the opinion that toy boxes were made for children’s toys. Perhaps the occasional lateral thinker may use one as a make-shift table, a laundry ‘basket’ or even a lamp stand if one is really creative. But for argument’s sake, let’s operate under the assumption that toy boxes are in fact made for toys.
Based on the aforementioned premise, one would logically assume that if a certain box is marketed by a company or a shop as a “toy box” it is not too far fetched to assume that said box would fall under the mark of ‘child friendly’. Read the rest of this entry »
Let’s bitch about tantruming two year olds. Yesterday, when the little boy in front of me on the bus tantrumed for an entire hour I really tried not to judge. I know well that the poor mom trying to control little Mr Psycho could be me in two years. But seriously! This kid was completely wild and out of control – he threw his arms and legs around like an overturned insect, he bit his mom and he screeched like a demon being exorcised back to hell. My daughter was sleeping soundly next to Mr Psycho and when he started bashing her pram I envisioned picking the kid up by his hair and throwing him out of the bus window. Lucky for Mr Psycho his mom yanked his arm away and he listened … well, he started bashing her instead of my baby’s pram. Fine by me. Everyone on the bus watched in uncomfortable silence and those with iPods thanked God in heaven and cranked up the volume. After Mr Psycho’s mom eventually managed to strap mini-Satan into his stroller (with the help of my husband) he writhed around like a mental patient in a straight-jacket and his crazed eyes darted around in search of someone who he could direct his fury at. I have heard of the ‘terrible twos’ but have never ever seen behaviour like this. I am scarred for life.
Let’s bitch about midwives. Let me say off the bat that I appreciate the service offered by midwives and an amazingly competent midwife called Julianna delivered my baby girl a week ago. But I am becoming increasingly sick of condescending comments and ‘the beady eye’. I dread the days that the midwife, aka baby police, comes to visit. I have been told to cut my nails. I have been advised that my house is “very cold” – yes really? So what do Eskimos do? Wrap their babies up and keep them warm. Thanks. 
Let’s bitch about breastfeeding in public. This is a sensitive subject for many and as a non-mom, about to become a mom in three weeks, I need to get my non-breastfeeding opinion out there for the record. Here’s my stance: just cover the boob please … that’s all. I know it’s natural and I know that the stigmas attached to breastfeeding are pretty irrational and I probably subscribe to most of them – I am a product of my Western upbringing – but come on moms. Help me out here! I was with my husband in Harrods the other day – in the food section – and a woman was sitting on the edge of one of the freezers, boob in full view, breastfeeding her baby. It was gross and I was appalled. I subscribe to the philosophy: “If you don’t like it don’t look” but in the food court of all places. Is that even hygienic – what if ‘leaky breast’ happens all over the place? What if the baby vomits milk on things or people? It’s not like Harrods lacks the facilities – they are quite beautiful in fact. 
Let’s Bitch about prams. I am not a mom yet but will be in five weeks time and I am speaking out on behalf of all the pedestrians in London (and elsewhere) in case I take a different stance after my baby is born. London is a busy place and is rather overpopulated, which has forced city-dwellers to live their lives in as time-economic manner as possible: it is a survival mechanism that prams are slowly but surely unravelling. Prams have become the Brontosaurus of every London sidewalk and event: they slowly lumber in front of pedestrians, roll at the pace of zero, stop abruptly in the middle of flowing people-traffic and insist on absolute pavement domination. As baby paraphernalia spills from every possible pram appendage, these vehicles bulldoze their way onto busses, along Oxford Street on a weekend and around jam-packed city events. When I see a pram I play Ally McBeal and envision smashing those ankle-biting wheels with an axe so that they will never roll again. It would be my pleasure. I won’t even get started on the complete retardation of four- and five-year-old children sitting in prams … um legs? I get that it’s a free country and prams have as much right as any to claim their living and commuting space – all it takes is an ounce of logic and a tad of consideration. And has anyone ever heard of a sling?
