Stroller Splat

During a recent catching-up-on-life conversation, a friend of mine said, “I know it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, but from what I see on Facebook things are going well. You look like you’ve always got it together!”

Hold up. Wait a minute.

If that is the impression I have given at any moment in time, I am failing miserably as a human.

(I also feel sure she never read about my, you know, severing my dog’s tail, leaving my laptop on the hood of my car, or befriending a cloud of gnats with the human poop on my calf…all exciting life events that took place within the past 12 months.)

But, if she did know those things and still had such assumptions, I would like to correct those opinions immediately.

I present to you: my most favorite recent parenting fail.

Stroller Splat

I could easily be a BOB stroller spokesperson. We have both the single and the double BOBs which, if you’re adding up the cost of owning both, means we possess almost $800 in strollers alone.

It is absolutely absurd.

And absolutely the best thing I’ve ever purchased in my life.

Truly, you guys, if it came down to owning 1 BOB or a swing, a crib, and a pack-n-play, it’d be the BOB. Hands down. (The stroller box could easily be fashioned into a baby bed.)

The point is, the thing is a beast. With 16″ rear wheels, even the double stroller is smooth. It basically pushes itself. It’s the Mercedes of stroller rides.

So a few weeks ago at the end of a run with said jogging beast, I unbuckled Beckett from his air-conditioned seat, folded up the built in Blu-ray player, and…just kidding. It’s neither air-conditioned nor is there a Blu-ray player. We just have the basic model, so the seats only massage.

Anyway, I let Beckett out to walk next to me.

As we got closer to our house, I noticed a shady character going door to door down our street. (He might not have been shady, but it was dusk and he was a single man knocking on people’s doors so mom-radar said NO THANK YOU.)

To pass him as quickly as possible, I said to Beckett, “Hey, buddy…I’ll race you home. On your mark, get set, RUN!” Perfect plan: Beckett sprinted at full speed, I jogged behind him.

When we approached creeper-man, I turned my head to get a closer look at what he was doing (because I’m still holding out for the neighborhood patrol presidency, obviously).

But.

In my rubbernecking, I failed to notice the minor detail that Beckett had stopped to pick up a bug.

Like, completely stopped. Standing still, bent over in the middle of the sidewalk. Because roly poly.

And I was still jogging.

And – let me tell you – with BOB’s “patented 3-inch suspension system that dampens bumps and vibrations”, I hardly noticed when I RAN OVER MY CHILD. Like, the entire stroller strolled right on over my kid. With cartoon thump noises and all.

Did I mention this happened directly in front of the house that door-to-door man was visiting? My efforts in avoiding an interaction escalated into a shoulder-to-shoulder inspection of my child with him. “Is he ok?” “Yes, he’s fine.” “But you –” “Happens all the time. He’s good. Right, Beck?”

(He was fine, by the way, although I cannot speak to the well-being of the roly poly.)

Maybe the tire tracks on my 3 year old’s face was God’s way of telling me not to be judgmental of “creepy” people. You just never know when you might need medical attention from them. If so, lesson. learned.

Another lesson learned could be that tiny humans transport themselves at incredibly unpredictable paces.

But the final, most important lesson is that in no way, shape, or form does the Brooks family “have it all together”. In fact, it is simply by the grace of God and our stroller’s excellent shock absorbers that both of our children are alive and well and, dare I say it, seemingly thriving.

(And aren’t we glad for that because they are DANG CUTE. Tire track faces and all.)