Stroller Wars

I went shopping again today. I was quite successful in using my credit card, which was practically burned at the edges from all the sliding it did going into the credit card readers.

Today's events have led me to believe that geography has even more to do with the type of people you run into at the mall than most of us stop to think about while we're running around. Yesterday I ran into inconsiderate workers on lunch breaks, impatient well-to-do-I'm-better-than-you women, easy to spot with their large bug-eyed sunglasses. By the way, who ever thought this trend was attractive was waaaaay off base. There were obnoxious teenagers laden down with packages bought with their parent's credit card and groups of families walking about mindlessly, bumping into everyone as they gazed at the store windows instead of the human traffic jam in front of them.

Earlier this morning I encountered a different kind of wild beast - the Stroller Mama. Don't mess with her! She has three hours between feedings, wake-up, and picking up kid #1 to do her shopping. Her stroller is her weapon of choice, the battlefield, the shopping mall. I have never seen so many blasted strollers in one place except for at Disneyland when they're all lined up on the side of It's a Small World.

We arrived at the mall early because it was raining. Luckily, no traffic was on the road and we found a parking space right in front. I was lulled into a false peace before the first attack wave. It happened in the Nordstrom elevator. I had to wait TWO turns to get on board. Why? STROLLERS. They are the new giants. They make strollers nowadays in the same manner as fast food: regular, large and super size. By golly, the super size strollers are a country unto themselves! How much crap can a baby that tiny possibly need on a single shopping trip? I counted three diaper bags on one stroller - I know, because Mama was frantically looking for baby's binkey. I wanted to suggest that perhaps consolidating to one bag and a stroller that wasn't the size of a third world country might help - only I was afraid of what she might whip out of one of the diaper bags. Can you imagine the horrible stuff she might have in there? Ewww...

They were everywhere. I couldn't turn without running into a stroller. Oh, and the worst kind? Stroller dates. Do you know what that is? It's when three or four Stroller Mamas set a date to go shopping and stroll about the mall. That's right, I said three or four, riding in one large horizontal baby brigade. All the Mamas chattering away, pushing their strollers past, through, into anyone in their way. Did you know they make strollers with three baby holders? THREE!! You can't begin to imagine the showdown when I meet up with a Stroller Mama going in the opposite direction(cue the whistling theme song from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly), neither one of us budging; unsuspecting shoppers darting around us nervously. "Excuse me" doesn't work when either party won't move. The "I was here first" theory doesn't really apply to Stroller Mamas. 'Cause they had babies - and doesn't that mean they should have special privileges? Look, I admire women that pop out their progeny. Good for them. But ferrying around the fruit of their loins in a tricked out stroller doesn't mean anything to me. Oh, unless it's a stroller made to spec like the chariot Ben Hur's opponent had in that great chariot race. I'd move then, no problem.

Stroller Mamas that let their 3 and 5 year olds push the beastly stroller (..."isn't it adorable when Nathan/Jordana pushes around baby Tatiana?")are even more dangerous. You wouldn't let precious Nathan/Jordana drive baby Tatiana around in your huge sports utility vehicle, would you, Stroller Mama? So why is it acceptable for Nathan/Jordana to push baby Tatiana in a crowded mall? And why shoot me the dirty look when I won't move for said "cute" kiddies? Nope. I'm not moving. In fact, I think there should be some kind of hot line at the mall to contact security. Dial 223-6262 (BAD MAMA) to report reckless stroller pushing. I mean, it looks like Nathan/Jordana had more than milk in the bottle, pushing baby Tatiana here and there, all around the square, in a drunken toddler waddle. There's nothing cute about that scene, Stroller Mama. I didn't move, I didn't asked to be excused, I just sat in my chair and waited. Stroller Mama had the nerve to ask me to move. I calmly told her that I was resting (I was parked along the edge, in front of a store window) and that there was more than enough room to go around me. She then huffed at me in Stroller Mama frustration. Stroller Mama fumbled around with her iced coffee drink, got off the cell phone (..."listen, Sydney. I have to go. I have a problem here at the mall. I'll tell you about it later.") and took the stroller from Nathan/Jordana then pushed baby Tatiana off into the distant store lights. Score one for Scooter Girl! I know, it seems petty, but there is a limit to my patience. The mere existence of a stroller is not room for rude behaviour, an expectation of special privileges or mall takeover. Stroller Mamas, beware!