Something told me I needed to head off to the Baby Store, so off I went…and there was my former self circa 2009.
“Welcome to the Big-Box Baby Store! You’ve been browsing here an awful lot lately, haven’t you?”
“Well yeah…Annie’s due in five months.”
“Yeah…you’re going to procrastinate on putting together the crib and changing table anyway. Are you nervous?”
“Not yet, I don’t think it’s sunk in yet.”
“I remember you back then. You actually are more than a little nervous. Let’s go in and check out the strollers. That is what’s on your mind, isn’t it?”
“Well cribs and changing tables and bottles too.”
“Don’t worry about that stuff. Annie already knows what she’ll be getting, she got some good enough stuff. I will warn you, assembly is going to suck big time, you’re going to curse quite a bit.”
“What goes wrong?”
“Ugh, you’re a McGrath, ten-thousand things can go wrong. The sooner you accept that little fact, the easier it will be to deal with life. The instructions were written by someone who never assembled anything and apparently thinks some parts are able to defy gravity. Annie will need to hold a couple things in place for you. Be prepared. Now, let’s get back in the moment. You always disappear after I finish my coffee and there’s only half a cup here. Don’t lose your focus…I remember this day. You came to check out the strollers, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, some of these are pretty cool actually.”
“And some of them suck. What do you think of that one?”
“This double seater?”
“Oh Yeah, I remember that one, that’s the one you’ve been checking out, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, the capacity seems nice, you can take more than one kid.”
“So you’re planning on having more than one?”
“Yeah…why?”
I was silent for a second, thinking about our little Rainbow Baby back at Home. He doesn’t know. He’s hopeful and optimistic and…has no idea of the heartbreak heading his way, I recovered, “All’s good. Seriously, it’s all good. Keep telling me about this stroller.”
Former self stared at me for several seconds, trying to read my expression before giving it up and going on, “you can put lots of things in there. It’s not one of these side-by side-doubles, the seats are in a row, so it’s narrow enough where getting through a door seems possible. Besides these side by side models have those ridiculous, stupid looking gigantic wheels.”
“Yeah. You put some thought into this. Those are all valid points, and I can’t say that any of them are incorrect.” I stared at the strollers, “I wish these big box stores could make an obstacle course for strollers.”
“That sounds kind of cool, kind of ridiculous.”
“Does it?” I took the double stroller off the shelf. “Give it a push, navigate some of these narrow aisles. There. Seems pretty easy, doesn’t it? If I could have a stroller obstacle course, I would start by putting a thirty pound bag of flour on the baby seat, then I would add a ten pound bag of flour in the undercarriage, they would represent baby and diaper bag. When you start out as a parent, that diaper bag will probably weigh like ten pounds, everything will be in that bag. After a couple years, the diaper bag will either shrink or retire and you’ll be running out of the house with a diaper and wipe in a grocery bag.
For the more advanced test, we can add a fifty pound bag of flour, that would represent the older sibling who ‘really really just wants to ride too!’ Then I would add uneven sidewalk panels, and a curb to jump. I would add hills, grass, mud and gravel as surfaces. I would have twists and turns and long straightaways – long enough where you can forget you’re on an obstacle course and begin walking normal.”
“Okay, why would you include a normal stride?”
“Because…people all walk differently and you walk aggressively. You take big steps, and you have a really good chance of accidentally stepping on the brake. Actually nix that…you do accidentally step on the brake, you strip the wheel and you render your stroller a broken down jalopy. When you get Home you will contact the manufacturer to get the wheel replaced only to discover the replacement wheel costs half the price of the original stroller. Screw it! You decide to throw out that fancy stroller and buy a new one. Except it takes months for you to actually getting around to throwing out the broken stroller because the thought of throwing out something that is that new really puts your teeth on edge. So there it sits, in the basement getting dusty and moldy, and you do nothing with it…like a jackass. Annie might as well have had a gun pointed at your head as you took that useless piece of junk down to the curb.”
Younger me stares, mouth hanging open.
“Sorry about that. I was awfully frustrated when I made that discovery about the wheel. So, add somewhere between forty and seventy pounds to this bad boy and you will suddenly discover you are not as maneuverable as you thought you could be.” I stuck my foot out, and the stroller was stopped immediately. “That…” I said, “represents an uneven sidewalk crack. Put your foot on that rear axle and rear up the front end to get over my foot.” Younger me did so, and shrugged. “Feeling pretty cocky! Back up and do it again.” This time I pushed down on the front end as he reared it up and watched him struggle. “That represents a twenty pound toddler sitting up front here. These little wheels are going to struggle on grass too. Gravel? Ha! Don’t even bother with gravel. This stroller is best for civilized situations that include flat floors and most sidewalks. Let’s shelve this one. Grab one of those (as you called it) stupid-looking big wheeled models. They’re called jogging strollers by the way. Now, roll over my foot again.” I pushed down again. “Bit easier, isn’t it? You ought to roll this thing over grass, it’s practically effortless.”
“So I should get one of these big-wheeled models?”
“Yes, you ought to have a jogging stroller in your arsenal.”
“Arsenal?”
“Yeah, you’ll have more than one, the right stroller for the right conditions. The jogging stroller is pretty impractical for, let’s say a museum. But they are perfect for going to the Fair.”
“Okay, so I’ll buy one of these jogging strollers.”
“Not just yet. Watch this.” I folded it up.
“Whoa.”
“Whoa is right. You still drive the Saturn, that red sedan.”
“Yeah…” Younger me stared at the double seat jogging stroller for a minute, examining every angle. “This won’t fit in the Saturn, will it?”
“Oh it’ll fit, you just can’t take Annie or the baby along. That won’t be an issue forever though.”
“You mean I’ll have a larger vehicle?”
“Yep!”
“Like an SUV or something?” I gave no reply to this. “Or? Do I get a minivan?” Again, I gave no reply. “For real? A freaking minivan? Crap Salad!”
“It’s not that bad, in fact, I’ve come to Love the minivan! It’s got way more interior space than an SUV, a bit more versatile in many ways as well. You’ll come to Love it. Trust me.”
“Ever loving! You sound like my boss, you sound like my father-in-law…”
“OUR father-in-law. I know I sound like him. He was right!”
“Did you drive it out here today? Is it in the parking lot?” Again, I gave no reply. I simply followed him to the entrance of the store. “Is it that green one? Maybe it’s the brick red one. Jeez, there are a lot of minivans out there. Is it that bronze-tan one with the stupid looking pin stripes?” He turned and stared at me. “No joke? Whiskey Tango Foxtrot! A Minivan?!”
“Get over yourself. You’re about to embarrass yourself…err…me. Us.”
“Seriously…Annie and I have talked about this…we had a plan.”
“Plans? That’s cute. You had plans!”
“Listen here, I’m not liking you very much right now.”
“I can’t say I blame you. There are a lot of people who find us unlikable. But honestly, that’s a messed up issue. What would a therapist say to you not liking me?”
“You think you’re being funny? Don’t you? What’s next? Are you a soccer dad too?”
“Just finished my coffee! Time for you to go.”
“Wait! I wasn’t done here…are you a socc….” (Poof) Younger me was sent back to 2009.
. . .
That got awkward in a hurry, he’ll learn; the hard way. Like we do.