Shopping is now shit.
This is aside from the fact that there is naf all attire for preggos on the high street.
It’s the behaviour of my son. He is now a ball bag of monumental proportions anytime we go near anything that resembles a shop. For starters HE WILL NOT GO IN HIS PUSHCHAIR. I made the fatal mistake of putting him in one on Friday after a coffee with mum in Waterstones because a game of ‘Put the book back darling’ which in my head was a game of ‘put that fucking book back and finish your drink that I’ve just paid through the arse for!!’
(I’d like to point out we were nowhere near the children’s section, he’d pulled an anthology of poetry off the shelf and when I asked him to put it back he pouted and started bending the book. I took it off him so he didn’t damage it and I’d have to pay a tenner for a massive book of shit poems. Removing the book from his possession caused a screamathon. It’s fun when everyone stares.)
Anyway, I put him in his pushchair. He screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed. He started choking on his own tears. He threw Miaow Miaow on the floor then asked to be handed his beloved soft toy, only to throw the bloody thing on the floor again.
He tried getting out of the straps. I put them back on. More screaming.
Why not let him walk? I hear you cry.
That is indeed an option. But this issue is this: the boy doesn’t run away in shops, he stops.
I coax, bribe, cajole, get firm, pretend to leave and nothing works. The little sod just stands there with his arms crossed frowning at me like I’ve just shit on a puppy. If nothing works I go and get him. I hate physically moving him but I’m not standing in boots for nine hours whilst he looks wistfully at the cover of a craft beer book. I take him by the hand and try to talk him into moving and OF COURSE he’s having none of it. He does that thing kids do and just drops like his bones are jelly. So I pick him up (he’s usually wailing by this point) but I’m pregnant I can’t carry him for long periods of time so the idea is to pick him up calm him down and get him in the pushchair.
Predictably he refuses the pushchair. Says wants to walk. I try to put him down and the kid contorts more than someone having an exorcism in an effort not to let ANY part of him make contact with the floor because he wants to be carried. We then get a repeat of the being put in the pushchair tantrum.
I can take people staring and I can handle the behaviour. But I don’t want to.
I don’t want to have to narrate the whole time, I get sick of the sound of my own bloody voice and exhausted at the same time.
We popped into a shop called Dunelm today. Daddy was with us and the boy performed again. Hubs got gradually more frustrated as behaviour took a nose dive and we left before we’d looked at everything we wanted to.
I get that the shops don’t hold a lot of pull for him, but am I selfish for doing something I want instead of swimming or soft-play for him? I don’t spend long in the shops, I just want to do something adult. I’m already dreading trying to get round the shops with two of them!
In other news:
Potty training imminent.
New bathroom should be finished TOMORROW. I can’t wait for there not to be strangers in my house!
Little pea kicked hard enough for hubs to feel it the other day.