It’s official. I expect too much of my strollers. My expectations for cribs, car seats, and high chairs? Totally in-check. I can pick one of those out in about ten minutes (M. would probably disagree, but as the chief puke-cleaner in the family, he cares more about ease of cleaning than the color wheel or classic lines).
Strollers are too important to me. The right stroller represents the promise of easily walking all day through the Galleria–and my kids enjoying it so much I only feel guilty about what I bought and not that they ate their weights in Yogos. The quicker I come to terms with the truth that this stroller does not exist, the quicker I can put my frustrating artillery of current strollers on eBay and get a new one. One that I will only expect to perform completely reasonable stroller functions.
I overthought our current strollers, and that’s why they frustrate me so much. I could start a new blog called The Worst of Times that cataolgs my millions of annoyances with them.
When we found out we were expecting twins, I freaked out a bit and made finding the ideal stroller for two infant carriers and a two-year-old, my full-time job. It needed to be portable, give Catie a place to ride, have room for all my stuff, and fit in my minivan.
This is what we got. Huge, right?
Actually the picture doesn’t do it justice. The Joovy Big Caboose (large enough for two infant carriers and a toddler to ride on the back) is ginormous. It really looks like a train. And, like more than one mom in my situation wrote in reviews, what do you expect? When buying a vehicle large enough for three children, you can’t hope for anything less than a sedan.
After six months of trying to steer this thing into bathroom stalls and out those double doors at Barnes and Noble , we used our AmEx points to get the cheapest, smallest double stroller we could find. It’s the one in the picture above. It’s the un-Big Caboose. Cheap, small, fits in the back of the van, and can squeeze through any space large enough for a wheelchair, which should be most public spaces.
I can’t stand it.
It has been falling apart since we bought it. One day when M. took the kids to the zoo, he decided to Pimp My Ride, and removed most of the safety restraints. Now the kids can (and, of course, do) stand while riding. The buckles pinch, the sun shade flops, and it never folds up the same way twice.
If it seems like I’m complaining, know I haven’t even touched on the topic of jogging strollers. But I sense I’m losing my audience. Because, the truth is, it’s not really the stroller’s fault. It’s me. I expect too much of them.
So, this time, it’s the easiest, low-maintenance single stroller I can find. Any suggestions?
And now to put our artillery of tricked-out strollers on e-Bay.
