Tag Archives: worried

Crying over a carseat?

We decided that, with five days to go before my due date, we should probably check that the babyseat would fit in the new car.

How it should look

I was apprehensive cos Rod had already flung his PS3 controller at the wall in a fit of pique this morning. Occasionally his temper gets the better of him so as he unpacked the carseat I warned him to read the instructions and be gentle.

Fifteen minutes later I went outside to check his progress.

“I’m not happy about this,” he said, shoogling the seat violently.

He was right, it was slipping all over the leather and didn’t look secure at all. But one side of the carseat seemed to be moving a lot more than the other.

“Why is…” I peeled back the cover to find the, albeit polystyrene, wing had snapped clear of the plastic.

“You broke it,” I accused. “You lost your temper and you f*ing broke it.”

I stomped inside, then stomped out through the back and stood taking deep breaths in the garden trying not to cry. I’ve been very stressed lately and this could have pushed me over the edge. But I realised we still had time, we’d just need to go to the Pram Centre today and buy a new one. And get it fitted, which we should have done in the first place, except we bought the pram travel system before we bought the car.

When I stepped back into the kitchen Rod was on the phone. He was arranging to take back a ‘faulty carseat’ and evidently they were being very helpful because he wasn’t in the middle of breaking anything.

Sheepishly he turned to me and asked if I’d like to be dropped off at Mum’s while he dealt with this.

“I’d rather come with you.”

Fitted properly with a seat grip

We drove to the Pram Centre in silence – until an idiot in an Audi TT cut me up and we bonded in our swearing at a common enemy. It softened the atmosphere. Then there were the fantastic staff at the Pram Centre. The woman at the service desk agreed the carseat was faulty and arranged a replacement (which they luckily had in stock) within five minutes. Another girl, called Nicky, came out with us to the car to fit it. She wasn’t happy with it on the side with two plugs, so moved it to the side with one plug (diagonally opposite the driver) and then called out her supervisor to double check. The supervisor checked it thoroughly, gave the belt plenty of good tugs and advised a seat grip for added security. It cost £10 – a hell of a lot less than an iso-fix system or a new carseat – and made that little bit of difference that set our minds at rest.

As we drove home, relieved and back on speaking terms, Rod tapped out an email to the Pram Centre manager on his iPhone, with the subject ‘Superb customer service’. He read it out to me and I couldn’t help but grin at his final line:

“We’ve gone from wanting to murder each other to being back in love – isn’t that great?”

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More snow woes & feeling vulnerable

After a wet weekend we were all fooled into thinking the thaw had come and climbed optimistically into our cars on Monday morning. Then the snow came back.

5 inches fell in a couple of hours

I had only a short journey to make from my home to my office, but arrived in tears. The sudden drop in temperature combined with the furious snowstorm to make the roads an ice rink with a lovely slippery coating of fresh snow on top. After a seriously near miss with a car full of kids, I pulled over to call my husband for advice. Should I go back, carry on or park and walk? That’s when I realised my options, as a 6 months-pregnant woman, were limited. Walking any distance in the cold, with a very high risk of falling, was clearly stupid. But so was dodgem-driving. People seemed to have lost all common sense. One guy in a wildly wheelspinning Mini insisting on inching up past a broken-down lorry to get to the roundabout, with the result that he got stuck in the only passable lane. Then, when the lorry driver pushed him out of the way, the rest of us struggled because we’d lost any momentum to get us up the hill.

Eventually, many skids and slides later, I arrived at my office. Despite my ordeal it pained me to email and reschedule all my meetings. It made me feel like a quitter. I didn’t want to say “I’m pregnant and I don’t want to risk falling” – it sounded pathetic somehow. I didn’t like knowing that I wouldn’t be able to help push a stuck car, or go out and rescue relatives who were stranded around the city. I wanted to go outside with my camera and my Flip to get footage for my video blog, but I knew it was too dangerous. I knew this because the M8 – the busiest motorway in Scotland – was a carpark. The whole of central Scotland was gridlocked because of the snow. It had taken everyone by surprise at rush hour, which meant ploughs and gritters couldn’t get through. I was glued to the news channels, incredulous at the stories of people stuck in their cars for seven and eight and nine hours. My husband phoned to say one of his staff had broken down on the motorway, waited 5 hours for rescue and ended up in hospital with mild hypothermia. I worried that people would be stuck on these impassable roads overnight – and sure enough, the next morning, the news was full of stories of snow ploughs’ blades snapping in the minus 13 degree conditions,  and tales of motorists spending the night in their cars.

So while I may be feeling sorry for myself for feeling weak and helpless – I am a very lucky girl indeed. I’ll certainly not be taking any risks that might lead to my need for rescue!

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18 weeks and the penny finally drops

Knitted with love by Great Granma

My Granma dropped round with a present yesterday. Coincidentally it was the day I turned 18 weeks pregnant. Opening the bag and unrolling this teeny weeny cardigan stopped me in my tracks. Oh my god, I thought, as I started to cry, I’m actually going to have a baby.

Until now I’ve been happy about becoming a mum the way you’re happy about Christmas in the summertime. You know it’s coming but it’s way in the future and you have other things on your mind. First it was the nausea, headaches and tiredness of the first 14 weeks. Then there was the relief of finally telling everyone, showing off the scan pictures and enjoying everyone’s excitement. For the last four weeks I’ve been delighted to feel like myself again. I’m just back from a hen weekend in Puerto Banus with ten girls. It was wild in the way only a holiday with your best pals can be – and being sober didn’t make the slightest difference. If anything, I had the most fun AND I was always the last man standing! As you can see, I’m hardly showing yet, which made me feel less self-conscious.

MummyKimmy on the left

MummyKimmy on the left at 17 weeks 2 days

I think the thing I’ve been most worried about, until now, has been losing myself. People are so judgemental about pregnant women and mothers – and even though I’m pretty much doing it by the book (married three years, own home, savings, close family, good job) I still feel the pressure. I don’t want to give up work or even really make compromises– it’s my own business and I’ve worked bloody hard to build it. I don’t want to miss out on the nights out or the parties – my friends are really important to me. I don’t want to lose the little quality time I have with my husband, who works 60 miles away.

But you know what? As I look at the hilarious photos from the weekend (sorry, I can’t possibly publish them) and as Rod lies with his ear on my belly claiming he can hear movement, I can relax. Sure, my life will change, but for the better, right? I’m surrounded by people eager to lend a hand, a husband who’s bursting with pride and excitement and I have full control of my working schedule… I’m a lucky bitch!

So I’ve decided to just go with it. I’m still me. Billions of women have coped with this situation – including my sister-in-law who’s about to pop with her third – and they’ve all managed.

I’m ready for the first kick now please wee one.

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