My sister has been amazing with ensuring that we have everything we need for the arrival. She has been incredible. The last time I went to see her, one of her lovely friends supplied us with a car seat (which MrM installed into his car when I was out yesterday - what a sweetie), lots of toys and a pregnancy pillow which has brought sweet, sweet sleep back to me.
Thank you sis!
The only thing I need now is a pushchair. So poor MrM gave up his lunch hour today and we met at the retail park. Who says romance is dead?
What I haven't mentioned here is that we were here on Saturday but it was so busy and someone in a brand new Merc was so rude to me (after stealing our parking space as he was in a desperate rush to get to Homebase) that I lost my temper (for the second time in a week - hormones?). I think the phrase "threw my toys out of the pram" is doubly apt here. I refused to go shopping, I didn't get out of the van and I think I may have stamped my foot. Cake was all that I wanted at that moment.
So, this little tantrum meant that we were back at the retail park again today. I met MrM in Mothercare. Now is this the most ironic use of the word "care" in a shop's name? The last time we were here, I think I mentioned that one shop assistant refused to give me an invitation for their late night shopping night; another quoted "elf and safety" at one of my family members and when I called their head office to complain they were not remotely interested.
So why did I go back??? Is it because it's virtually the only place in town that sells pushchairs? We looked at the display for a while and in the meantime, a shop assistant watched our increasing bafflement with her arms folded.
After a while, MrM asked her for help which seems to astonish her. Still with her arms folded, she guided us around the selection, using the word "obviously" all the time.
"Obviously this is for rough terrain".
"obviously this is the car seat and it unclips"
"Obviously this folds up small to go in a boot"
"Obviously you don't have enough money for this one here."
I jest about the last one, but "obviously I am going to buy our pushchair somewhere else" may have popped out of my mouth. All I wanted was something simple. If you have to spend 10 minutes explaining how to fold it, then it's too complicated. We're going to stick to the sling until I find a way of buying a pushchair that doesn't involve a trip to the retail park or cost more than £200. Think my wonderful sister has spoiled me....