To the Mama Who Let Herself Go I can see the searching and quizzical look on the old friend’s face when I say hello in the grocery store. They’re attempting to place who I am. I feel my stomach drop and my heart pang…
Tag: guest blogger
October 16, 2017
Today’s Mommy Monday post comes to you from Rachael Freeland! Rachel has a blog called Werifesteria: To Wander through the Forest in Search of Mystery. Rachel is from Melbourne, Australia originally, but is living in Amsterdam currently. Before Rachel became a mother she was a therapist and yoga teacher, which is super cool since I’m a therapist and I love yoga and really wish I had the time to get the hours to become a yoga teacher! So anyway clearly we have a lot in common! After she had children, however Rachel became a blogger and writer! So now she shares stories from her life on her blog and she does a fantastic job doing it! I found her blog very enjoyable to read and you’re going to love her Mommy Monday story!! Just for those of you who aren’t familiar with the term “Pram,” a pram is a stroller or baby buggy. So on with the good stuff!! Rachael Freeland
I pulled a book out of the shelf, and flicked through the pages, desperately trying to ignore the fact that my children were far more interested in the bouncy balls the bookstore sold than the books themselves. When did bookstores start selling toys anyway? I added the book to the pile of books I was buying and then suddenly, my nose detected a very distinctive smell. I looked at my daughters, the youngest had adopted the full nappy waddle. I bit my lip, looking around for a bathroom, but there was not one. We were at least a twenty minute walk from the apartment and nowhere near a public rest room. Where did people go to pee in London?
I thought briefly about putting her in the pram and hot footing back to the apartment, but Grace doesn’t do quick, especially not when I need her to and Ava Rose has the most delicate skin. If I didn’t get this nappy off her now, her bottom would be red raw in minutes. I looked around, there was no one, not even a staff member. We were completely alone on the top floor of the bookshop and had been for the last 10 minutes. I scooped her up, holding her slightly away from my body and pushed the pram around, nope, definitely not in the art section. Fashion, mmm, maybe. Magazines? No, too risky, too close to the glass hand rail and the happy shoppers on the ground floor. I spotted the service elevator, perfect. It hadn’t opened since we’d come out of it 20 minutes ago.
I lay Avarose down in the pram, whipped off her pants, undid the nappy, rolled it up and pushed it to the side. Quickly, I wiped her soiled bottom and put on a new nappy.
The elevator pinged and the doors slid open. I looked up, guilt smeared all over my face, the foul smelling stench still emanating from the pram, but it was just an empty trolley riding between floors. I breathed out. I grabbed her pants, pulled them on and then picked up the soiled nappy. The tabs, oh my god, the tabs. The nappy unrolled, and the little ball of poo flew through the air. My daughter, wondering what all of the excitement was, lifted her head up to have a look. The little ball of poo bounced off the back of the pram and landed right where her head had just been. The next bit happened in horrifyingly slow motion. My daughter, having decided there was nothing of interest to look at, lay her head back down.
I emptied the packet of wipes into the pram, trying desperately to remedy the situation, but poo, it turns out is very, very difficult to get out of hair. I pulled at the strands of her fine, blonde, curls but all that did was rub it in further. I looked around, trying to figure out what to do. If Grace caught sight of it, she’d surely vomit, and then we’d officially be blacklisted from every bookstore in the UK, although to be perfectly honest, if that little black box in the ceiling, that I’d only just noticed was actually a camera, I was pretty sure we’d not be welcomed back in a hurry.
I scrabbled around the carrier of the pram, desperately seeking inspiration. Finally my hand seized upon her hat. There was nothing for it, but to shove it on her head, leave the books we’d been going to buy and walk nonchalantly out of the store.
I think we’ll steer clear of bookstores for a little while.
If you would like to get in touch with Rachael you can find her on:
And of course, her blog, Werifesteria
Let us know in the comments if you have had a similar experience, or if you would like to share a story of your own for Mommy Mondays!!
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