Month: April 2017

So I accept we’re fairly a niche target group: parents with two offspring both of a buggy-needing age. And we like running. And we’re crazy enough to want to take them running with us. Maybe we’ve just been unlucky, but the task of purchasing a double running buggy really shouldn’t be this complicated…

I’ve changed my mind about the ‘crazy’ bit though. In fact, I think it’s a quite sensible idea that allows us both to run and keep the sprogs amused too. Why take turns running in the evening and leaving the other parent – either knackered from work, or knackered from juggling work at home and littlies – being summoned by a spirited toddler into the Wendy House along her 8 month old sister and a trolley full of plastic fruit and veg?

When instead we could both be taking a break from the above, as well as getting fit by running together with them in the evening, if we had a double buggy. Or I could even go out to run on my own with them in the daytime when they’ve woken from their afternoon nap. Or I could cook the dinner in peace one evening while DaddyO goes for a run with them. He gets his run, the kids are entertained and I get a bit of peace and quiet.

I did try running a few times with the non-running double buggy, under the instruction of my osteopath. I was recovering from a knee injury and he suggested running for a few hundred metres and then walking again when I was next out with the buggy. Except Tinytoes wanted to get out and run too. To her credit she ran quite well, but I had to keep looping back with the buggy so as not to lose her – when I tried running slowly she shouted ‘RUN! Mummy, RUN!

But I since heard it was dangerous to run with a non-running buggy. Running buggies have brakes like bicycles so you can keep your hands on them at all times. Normal ones apparently won’t take the wear and tear of running, are generally too heavy for repeated running use, there is limited suspension for the comfort of little ones and, more importantly, they have front wheels that can pivot meaning if they hit a pothole in the path they can turn and throw the buggy over.

So it was decided that we would buy a double running buggy. After trawling eBay I put a bid on a “Phil and Ted Sport Double Buggy”: With a name like that it had to be for running, right? Luckily I was outbid. DaddyO expressed his scepticism just in the nick of time. Apparently buggies are like cars with the word ‘Sport’ in the title: they have a ‘sporty look’ but you can be about as sporty as me when I was 9 months pregnant to use them.

After a bit more research we discovered double running buggies are harder to come by than anticipated. There are not many models out there, but we finally settled on the Britax BOB Revolution Duallie Stroller. We found one on eBay described as the ‘Mercedes Benz’ of double running buggies. We downloaded a PDF of the stroller online to make sure it was suitable for running and indeed it was.

We won the bid by a whisper and so it was that after work one Wednesday night DaddyO found himself driving halfway around the M25 to Enfield in north London to collect the buggy. The phone call came at 7.30pm when I was putting the tots to bed. “It doesn’t have a proper brake on the handles.” My heart sank. He called him back after ploughing through the instruction manual. Our fears were confirmed. “It’s not a running buggy.”

It turned out the manual we had downloaded was for the Britax BOB Revolution SUS Duallie Stroller – for running – whereas the buggy in question was a Britax BOB Revolution Duallie SE Stroller – not for running. Our money was instantly refunded, but we were still minus a running buggy and DaddyO had wasted an entire evening and a tank full of petrol.

But DaddyO is abnormally hard to faze. After spending 4 hours driving around the M25 all he could say was ‘Oh well, it’s good we tried.’ Let’s just say I wouldn’t have had quite the same honey-coated outlook had I been the driver.

We then ordered a new Britax BOB Revolution SUS Duallie on Amazon. It arrived early – on day 1 of the Easter holidays – much to the delight of everyone. Tinytoes had chicken pox – cleverly timed to coincide with the start of the holidays, but running outdoors wouldn’t risk contaminating people. We were excited to try out the buggy and so was Tinytoes. We spent Good Friday morning assembling it and pumping up the tyres. Only then did we notice there was a foot brake and not a hand brake! We had been sent another Britax BOB Revolution SE Duallie  – not for running (!)

I mean seriously, how hard can it be to acquire a double running buggy?! It seems we are destined not to receive one. We ended up taking it in turns to go for a run while the tinies slept, later that afternoon.

How amazing it would be one day to chill out one weekend while they sleep and then run – as a form of entertainment for them and for us – when they are awake. Maybe one day we’ll get there while they’re still of a buggy-needing age. We now have to wait for Amazon to contact the seller, which takes two working days. Given it’s the holidays this may take a while.

If we ever do manage to get hold of one, I guess there’s no guarantee Tinytoes won’t insist on getting out and trying to join us running. But maybe she’ll be a runner too by then…

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Tinytoes has hit the terrible twos. To be fair she has been ‘spirited’ since she was about 14 months, but now she can talk we are at least beginning to have some insight into what can trigger a temper tantrum. Not that we can always do anything about it, mind.

Now Tinytoes has a peculiar obsession with moons. This recently manifested itself when she was crying in desperation at her Catalan grandparents not understanding the word ‘moon’ in English. “Ah, la lluna!” they repeated when I came into the room and translated.  Tinytoes nodded vigorously with renewed hope that a moon would now be drawn on her blackboard. However, after drawing a moon my mother-in-law made the grave mistake of thinking it would be appropriate to draw a sun next to it. “No no no!” she screamed. “A moon, a moon, a moon!”  Fortunately for my MIL, the chalk could be wiped away and a moon could be drawn in its place. Over and over again.

I had no such luck the following day. After drawing around 30 moons in her note book, I make the fatal error of attempting to draw a planet – Saturn to be exact – in black felt tip pen. “No!” she screamed. “Take it off Mummy!!!!”.  And my heart sank helplessly. Ripping the page out wasn’t an option. Neither was trying to explain that Saturn had moons. I simply had to endure her cries of frustration.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not one for walking on egg shells around my daughter or pandering to her ‘needs’. I just think if a non-essential temper tantrum can be avoided and it’s towards the end of a long day, well, I’ll happily draw 300 moons if it will pass the time until DaddyO walks through the door.  One day last week I began to seriously question my sanity when I looked up from one such moon-drawing frenzy to discover that my audience was no longer there. I was on the sofa colouring in moons and Tinytoes was playing with her Daddy and her baby sister. I think they hadn’t liked to disturb me…

Temper tantrums

Thankfully when Tinytoes hits the pinnacle of her rage, she now takes herself off, of her own volition, to sit on the mat by the front door. When all the doors surrounding her are closed she will sit eerily quietly in the hallway for a good 15 minutes. When she’s ready, and only when she’s ready, she will come out for a ‘cuddle’. This works a treat unless 1) it’s bedtime and I want to get on with cooking the supper/having an evening/life 2) it’s a mealtime and we want her to eat rather than provide her with a crafty getaway 3) we need to go out for whatever reason.

Tinytoes’ confusion about the meaning of certain words often adds an injection of irony to her meltdowns. She thinks ‘want’ means ‘don’t want’ and will wail: “I want it, I want it mummy!” in front of an untouched and eventually cold plate of chicken, carrots and baby potatoes.

She thinks ‘need’, on the other hand, means ‘want’. For example, she will shout in earnest ‘I need granny’ or ‘I need fish fingers!’ When I went with Tinytoes to drop our friends off at the railway station the other day I made the mistake of telling her, “I’ll take you on a train somewhere one day, that would be fun wouldn’t it?’  The words had slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. And she began shouting ‘Train, train, train,” and with increasing urgency ‘I need a train mummy, I need a train!’. I was treated to a repeat performance the next day when I drove her back from nursery through our local town.

Today, she finally gave up on trains and went back to her usual practice of reciting every single carer’s name at her nursery followed by ‘a nice lady.’ A reassuring, if not slightly irritating, endorsement that we’ve chosen the right nursery. She then continued with her own name, followed by “a nice lady?” Yes, well, you’re a ‘nice girl’. “No no no, nice lady!” her voice began to wobble. There are some battles worth fighting, it’s about choosing the right ones.  “Ok yes you’re a nice lady,’ I replied quickly.

She calmed down then said her baby sister’s name followed by “a nice lady?” “No, a nice baby,” I began, then quickly changed tack. “Yes that’s right a nice lady,” I sighed.  She continued happily, “And daddy’s a nice lady?” I stayed quiet. “Daddy’s a nice lady? Daddy’s a nice lady?”  “Well he’s actually a nice man…but yes yes daddy’s a nice lady, daddy’s a lovely lady,”  I found myself saying, to my disbelief.

Postscript

By way of a postscript (I wrote this 2 days ago but didn’t get a chance to post it) my mother came over today to watch the babies while I had a call with a potential client. When I had finished the call she informed me her granddaughter had told her Daddy was a nice man, she herself was a nice girl, her sister was a nice baby, her granny was a nice lady and that her mummy – wait for it – was a nice girl! So, unless nursery had given her a crash course in family gender, something at least had gone in. And there’s questionably still some youthfulness in me yet.

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