As the only one in my social circle who does not have, nor is attempting to conceive, a child I sometimes get asked if I can watch little Bobbi-Sue or Billy-Ray when my friends are in a bind for a sitter and if my schedule permits (and it almost always does) I am more than happy to oblige. Consider me biased but my friends have the cutest, smartest, most well-behaved kids on the face of the planet so I’ll take every chance I get to spend some one-on-one time with them. After all, I’m always looking for an excuse- I mean opportunity- to show off my painting, playdoh and puzzle skills while squeezing in some quality cuddle and storybook time. Not to mention the fact that when it comes to my unique brand of humour I typically find the best audience is one that’s not potty trained.

What can I say… I know my demographic.

I don’t, however, like to call it ‘babysitting’, a term I tend to associate with something I did when I was twelve years old for hourly wages that make buying a Chai Latte seem like a long-term investment. Instead, I consider it a bonding experience that just so happens to provide the opportunity to blame broken vases, coloured walls and spilt milk on someone other than my cat. And while such visits tend to leave my heart full and uterus aching it’s often an excellent reminder as to why it might actually be a good thing should I never procreate.

For instance, how can anyone be expected to parent given today’s stroller situation? Have you seen those things? They are completely non-functioning. The drink holders are subpar, at best! How a parent can be expected to go for a walk and not have adequate drink storage is beyond me. The only thing said feature is good for is guaranteeing you will get coffee all over the stroller.

On that note, in an attempt to greatly reduce the chance of 3rd degree burns, it’s probably not the best idea in the world to transport scalding hot liquid when walking infants. Sure, said infant is well protected, what with the retractable dome-like structure and all… but what about me? Burns may heal but nothing, and I mean nothing, gets coffee stains off a white t-shirt. Also? White t-shirts and babies? Not a good mix. Just so you know.

Secondly, it is near impossible to push a stroller with only one hand. If technology can produce robots that defuse bombs I really don’t think it’s too much to ask for a self-propelled stroller. Instead, one must keep both hands on the device, making it nearly impossible to Tweet on an iPhone, chat on a Blackberry or carry a cup of coffee (because we all know it can’t go in that poor excuse of a drink holder). So if and when I get a moment of ‘downtime’ I can’t even use it because I’m too preoccupied… walking at a pace that is fast enough to lull baby to sleep yet slow enough not to catapult said baby into the air given the pothole and rock-strewn sidewalk. Is it too much to ask for a cup of coffee and one free hand? I think not.

I’d also like to point out that stroller wheels, although rugged in appearance, are not meant for off-roading. And by ‘off-roading’ I mean sidewalks. And by ‘sidewalks’ I mean cement deathtraps. How we, as a society, can send a man to the moon but cannot build a smooth roadway is beyond me. And those jagged, bumpy ridges at crosswalks… what’s the deal with those things? If you ask me they can only be likened to the rumble strips on highways, meant to waken passengers before they veer off the road. Life saving on the interstate? Yes. Helpful for sleeping infants? Not in the least.

What is rugged, however, is a stroller seatbelt. For all intents and purposes, unless I’m running the 100-metre dash up the side of a mountain range I really don’t think a 5 point safety harness is required for a trip to the park. I think the real safety issue is the sheer difficulty in releasing said seatbelt. Heaven forbid scalding hot beverage ever fall from above and I not be able to get the seatbelt undone in any sort of reasonable, life-saving timeframe.

But enough about strollers, lest I pop a vein.

When it comes to the marvel of new life I have often said that babies are much like kittens and puppies… they start off cute and tiny because, otherwise, no one would have them. I don’t mean this with any disrespect as toddlers, tweens and teens are very endearing, really they are. Still, I consider babies to be mother nature’s way of easing people into parenthood. After all, things are much more cute and way less intimidating when wearing footed onsies, nestled in the crook of your neck. And the last time I checked, 8 year olds just don’t do that very well.

Another case in point for this marvel of evolution? Baby poop. Baby poop, while disgusting, is tolerable in small quantities. Toddler poop, however, is not only disgusting and revolting but it never, ever comes in small quantities. Ever. This, combined with the fact you have a rambunctious pint-sized human who can’t sit still for 2 seconds, is a sure-fire recipe for disaster. To put it in perspective, you know it’s bad when even the toddler is appalled… lying completely motionless with legs straight-up in the air and a look of sheer disgust on their face that seems to say “Wipe me. Wipe me NOW”. It’s enough to make me throw up or, at the very least, dry heave.

Repeatedly.

And when said toddler finally goes to sleep, after a mere half hour of full-out screaming, it’s the perfect opportunity to plug in the laptop and get some work done. That’s if you can figure out the baby-proofed electrical outlets. Call me crazy but if removing said contraptions requires the use of a knife and nearly results in electrocution than perhaps they aren’t really all that ‘safe’. After all, they didn’t have such things when I was a baby and I turned out fine.

Didn’t I?!?

Kristel is a Physicist, computer programmer and blogger, writing about everything from depression to dating… and sometimes even both! She lives in Saskatchewan, Canada and can be contacted at gilsner@gmail.com

Photo Credit © Elena Stepanova | Dreamstime.com

Tags: children