Simon and I decided to go to Glasgow. To the sales. Shopping. With Rory. My instincts were telling me it was a bad idea and sadly, my instincts were correct.
It all started well enough. We parked up and then we went our separate ways. No sooner had we crossed the road than the crying and telltale chewing of the hand had kicked in (that’s Rory, not me!) I ploughed on. Speeding up to a gentle jog up and down Buchanan Street to try and appease the little man. Aaaarrggghh, I had came all this way and couldn’t even get the pram round Zara due to the mountains of clothes littering the aisle and the tutting from other customers as I dared to try was not helping. I gave it up as a bad job and headed at pace to M&S. Rory had that look. I knew I had a matter of minutes left before we reached the crying crescendo. Maybe I could buy a pair of pants before he lost it completely. No. No I couldn’t. I had literally pushed the pram through the door when he opened his little mouth and screamed. And screamed, and screamed and screamed.
People were looking at me. I started to panic. He’s heavy but I had to get him out the pram. Unfortunately I can’t hold him and push the pram at the same time so I ended up with him clinging on to my waist supported by my right hand whilst I thrust the pram forward with my left shouting “excuse me” and “sorry” intermittently. I made my way to the children’s department. I couldn’t hold Rory any longer. He had to go back in the pram. This wasn’t going to be easy. As I placed him back in the pram he pushed himself rigid and screamed very loudly in my face as protest. “Look darling! Look what a mummy has! A little toy for you to play with!” I was scrabbling through my bag realising that all I had was an empty Asda carrier bag and some powder foundation. Rory loves an empty carrier bag but I believe it would be frowned upon. Expecially in M&S.
I frantically scanned the surrounding area and saw a little teddy for sale on the shelf, grabbed it and popped it in the pram beside him. He looked at it, still screaming, then put the price tag in his mouth, sucking it furiously. He nodded off to sleep ten minutes later and I extracted the teddy. And the soggy price tag. And popped it back on the shelf. Sorry M&S but desperate times called for desperate measures!
Surely I’m not the only parent who has ever done this. Am I? Maybe I should have bought the teddy, but it was £10! The sales are no place for a stressed Mummy and a teething baby. Rory and I are staying at home until February!