The latte of human kindness. Or: Why I’m never taking our child to a coffee shop again.

Today started like most days, Wills awoke, I changed his nappy before feeding him, all hell broke loose because of the delay in getting milk down his neck. Wills serenaded me whilst I got changed (wahhh wahhhh WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH), we got in the car I silently  cursed my husband for not lengthening the car seat straps before removing Wills from it, thus preparing it for the next journey, (in his defence I’ve not asked him to this, hence silent cursing). We arrived at our shopping destination, I got the push chair out, found hubs had taken the bag for life that was in the bottom of the pushchair, cursed him out loud.

First stop: Pet shop, Marmite and Captain’s crimbo presents and festive dinners purchased. (Basically just forked out for more expensive cat food)

Second stop: Boots, I had vouchers for a free sippy cup and baby weaning book. Boots had neither in stock.

Third stop: Marks and Spencer, because we’re not farting around making dauphinoise potatoes Christmas day when we can pay over the odds for ready made.

Fourth stop: Card shop, because the cousin and niece cards we brought for Sofia had the same sodding picture on them.

Then came the fifth stop, seeing as I am a strong independent mummy out and about totally in control, on top of the world and suchlike, lets have a coffee! Wheeled Wills through the assault course that is Next, I mean why make it easy for pushchairs/wheelchairs/anyone with hips to walk through the shop when you can put hundreds of clothing racks in random positions and make it nigh on impossible to get through without ramming into something?  Got to the coffee shop, located in said clothing store. Stood in rather huge queue hoping there would be a table free, the kind lady behind the counter offered to bring my drink to the table, fabulous! I can start feeding Wills. Sat down, feeding baby latte arrives all is well. Mum in control, enjoying being out, makes up for lack of sleep previous evening.

Wills finished his drink, so I sat him up or a burp.

Now somehow, and I’m not sure how, Wills arms are approximately fourteen meters in length, and as I prepared to pat him and sing the ‘burpy song’, Wills pushed my drink over.


Table, floor, his pushchair.

I frantically threw his binky onto the small ocean that was cascading off the table onto the floor, a man, who was queueing with his son, called for blue roll and a lady at a nearby table leapt up to help me clear up. The tray on his pushchair was brimming with coffee and his cosy toes was soaked through, I was trying to help but it was tricky doing that and holding Wills, a lady on the next table offered to hold him and because I have a fairly laissez faire attitude towards who can hold my son (she looked respectable and had children with her) I gratefully handed him over praying to all the gods that he didn’t throw up on her.(She was one of those stylish women I envy and her clothes looked expensive.) Wills immediately began a charm offensive much to the delight of his now captive audience. (So charming the small boy with them decided he wanted a little brother.) A lady in the queue asked what my drink had been and it was replaced, free of charge. (It seems most people waiting had been watching us, I fear if staff had insisted I pay for a replacement, they would have been lynched!)

Table mopped up, (and floor and push chair) new coffee received and son retrieved from stranger, we sat. Wills was extremely wriggly (apparently the stranger was preferable company to mummy) I started slurping the coffee like a mad woman because I was so bloody embarrassed I just wanted to leave.

None of this was William’s fault. I should have made sure the coffee was further away, it was an accident. If he was fourteen and had thrown the coffee and mooned the staff, I would have been cross. I wasn’t cross just extremely self conscious. Wills was already eyeballing the new coffee and I couldn’t drink it fast enough.

He then did something completely out of character.

He screamed.*

Loud, curdling screams. And I couldn’t soothe him, people were looking as I desperately rocked him and sang ‘Daisy Bell’ (He loves this song lord knows why). When I finally soothed him, drank the coffee like I was in some sort of speed drinking contest, put him in his buggy, wrapped in my coat as his cosy toes was dripping wet and hastily exited hoping no one would see the wet patch on my trousers from sitting in spilt coffee. I could feel myself welling up in the lift. Getting out of the shop quickly was a logistical nightmare but I made it unscathed and had strapped Wills into his seat before I burst into tears.

This is why I struggle to leave the house some days, all the ‘What ifs?’ all I can say is thank god all those people came to my aid, without them I simply would have cried with an audience. So if you’re out and about and you see a similar situation, help. Or at least offer to. It really makes a big difference. So thank you to the man in the queue, the lady that helped mop up, and not half heartedly, she really got stuck in! The family that kept Will entertained during the clean-up and the woman in the queue who got me a replacement coffee. Talk about the season of goodwill.

In other news:

Hubs is not going to approve of the joint present I got the cats.

I have FINALLY got round to buying smaller knickers, I was still wearing the giant ones I brought for pregnancy and they were just rolling themselves up, it looked like I was trying to smuggle things in my jeans.

We took Wills to see Santa yesterday. Waited for well over an hour. He was fairly unfazed, I nearly burst with excitement.




* Turns out there was a small but hard poo nugget in his nappy, I’m quite sure this is why the poor lamb screamed


Author: thebumpchroniclesblog

Thirty year old first time mum, sharing parenthood experiences/fails.

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