Pram in the City

There’s something enchanting about the city that attracts me to it. Maybe it’s the hype and spirit that comes with the bustle of city life, perhaps it’s the glistening chrome and mirror that declare an exciting store has recently opened, my credit card threatening to escape my purse with a life of it’s own, or possibly it is the curious combination of skyscraper against a backdrop of beautiful harbour.

Whatever the attraction is for me, the city chewed me up and spat me out last month, leaving me jaded, disillusioned and worse for wear.

Reflecting upon my corporate days, an era bygone, I spent my time hurrying from one Mimco store to the next, and as five of my biggest turnover stores were city based, that meant much of my day was spent traipsing the city streets, on a mission to complete as much work as I could fit into nine or ten hours.

I would be dressed in my finest outfits. My patent heels would always match my designer handbag, leather laptop bag slung over one shoulder and an assortment of folders and notebooks clutched in my arms.

Since becoming a mum, I’ve ventured into the city by myself on three occasions, a trip very different to those of the past. No longer adorned in Mimco or Fleur Wood, my comfy flats and well-worn jeans are now thrown together with a baggy tee. These days it’s all about effortless speed.

Inspection of my bag post baby reveals a very different assortment of contents. Gone are the highlighters, USB sticks, calculator and budget sheets. Take a peek and you’ll see nappies and wet ones, teething rusks, toy cars, sun hats, sunscreen, a jumper (just in case) and plenty of food to keep growling tummies at bay. There is no longer room for that anticipated novel to read during lunch or a newly acquired purchase for me. No. It’s not about me anymore.

My biggest gripe however, is not my attire, nor is it the bag I have to lug around. It is the fact that as a mum with a pram, I feel I am viewed as an obstruction, a dawdling, meandering annoyance. Suit wearing city workers hustle by, bumping into us as though we have no right to be here. Even my long awaited introduction to the first Zara store in Australia brought with it a dark cloud. Excited women with bundles of clothing roll their eyes at me as they try and reach across the pram to grab at more apparel.

Don’t even think about going for a wee. Where can we go that accommodates a pram? Unless you have a friend to stand guard or you leave your pram outside, you’re holding on girl!

So what used to be an empowering occasion is now viewed by me as a venture cloaked in anxiety.

Lucky for me my last trip was to the Sydney Aquarium, where they have loads of parents rooms, space to crawl around on one’s knees (not mine), and sauntering tourists who are in no hurry whatsoever to get from point A to point B.

I think for now my ventures to the city have been boxed up and placed on the shelf. 

And that’s OK.