Learning curves

Day #2 of our self-imposed isolation as the potty training of a very unconcerned Boy #2 continues. Yesterday's tally was 3 'incidents', today's is already at 4 - and one of them involved my searching the flat for escaped poo.

Oh, the joys of motherhood.

Thankfully Husband is at home to help deal with the fall-out, so he has been whisking Boy #2 off to the bathroom for a clean-up and a reminder of the rules - poo or wee in the potty equal chocolate, but anywhere else does not - whilst I, well, chase poo. Or wee. Whatever - it's all good fun... (I tell myself this in spite of the fact that it is of course anything but).

In any case, the last 24 hours or so has been enlightening for Husband, since he was not really at home much when Boy #1 went through this process. I can't blame him for being surprised; the sheer frustration of putting your son on the potty, have him get up after 15 minutes without having produced anything, and then having to change his trousers due to an accident only 10 minutes after that, is not something that they tell you about when you see the extra line on your pregnancy test.

Well, to be fair they might do, but you disregard it along with a host of other things you are convinced will not concern you; controlled crying; Gina Ford; 'necker' poohs - I'm sure if you've had kids I don't need to explain that one, and if you haven't well, I'll let you find out about them all by yourself - dummies (pacifiers for non-Brits); new washing machines due to the death of your old one through exhaustion; plastic toys under your feet first thing in the morning as you stumble to the bathroom to put in your contact lenses; interfering strangers; interfering friends and family; 'suitable for aged 3 years and above' toys given as a present to your newborn; sick patches on your collar, and - oh, you get the picture.

So, yes, we are in the thick of it.

He's got until Monday to improve. If we're still on 4 or more pairs of trousers a day by then I may wave the shite (sorry, White, I meant white!) flag for a while and try again next month. If for no other reason than he's due back at nursery on Tuesday, and if we take him in with his current laissez-faire attitude to off-potty un-nappied loo stops we may get drummed out of town. I mean, asking them to deal with two accidents in a morning, fair enough, and I have no doubt they'll be fine with that. But 4 or 5? That could be pushing it a little.


Speaking of things you don't think about when you first find out you're pregnant, here's another. Buggy Envy. When Boy #1 was born in 2003 he was a couple of weeks early; earlier, in fact, than the buggy we'd ordered. This was swiftly rectified by the nice people at John Lewis, who delivered our Quinny buggy and maxi cosi car seat pdq once we called and explained the problem. It was only then that I discovered I had made a major error in choosing our preferred mode of baby transport.

I had taken my husband along when I bought it.

We had purchased the king of 'off-roaders'; a Quinny Freestyle. Sure, it was comfortable for junior. It looked great; all whizzy reflectors, drop handle bars, bicycle bells and removable blow-up tyred-wheels. It was just the sort of thing any self-respecting bloke would be proud to be seen pushing. 'Here I am' it said. 'Get out of my way. I am a buggy-pushing Dad and proud of it.' And yes, it did the job pretty well; it made it through 2 boys and is still suitable to be passed on for someone else to make use of. Always assuming that is that they live in Outer Mongolia, have biceps of steel and a car boot the size of a ship. (Are you getting the problem yet?).

So when I saw my more sensible mummy-friends with their Bugaboo Frogs tripping around town, scooting up escalators, and free-wheeling into and out of shops my leviathon couldn't fit into, you can imagine that a tiny little bit of envy might escape.

Consequently when I was contacted by Bugaboo to take a look at their new website, I thought, why not? Especially since they came bearing gifts.

It's pretty much as I expected. Bugaboo comes across as a company that, whilst stylish and fashionable, also has it's users' best interests at heart; their designs are innovative and useful, and make parents' lives easier. The website? Well, it has a couple of interesting features.

There is a section on daytrips that gives ideas on what to do as a family when buggied-up, which whilst it might seem a no-brainer is not something I've come across presented in this way on-line before. Mind you, I didn't look too hard at the stage when such a thing was relevant, so it may well be a secret I just never picked up on.

And there is the chance to register yourself as a 'friend'. I haven't done so, feeling that as non-Bugaboo owner and with my younger son now just about to abandon buggies altogether it's not that relevant (and also I have you guys - who needs more online input, really?), but I guess that it's still something that might come in useful for yummy mummies relocating and looking to create a new network. Or something.

Anyway, overall, it's an OK site. Though I can't help feeling that Nappy Valley Girl hit on something in this post. It's all very well to spend time and money coming up with a site that echoes brand values and connects with your target consumers, Messrs Bugaboo, but what about the real glaring ommission in your offering?

Double buggies, anyone?

If they'd offered one, I would have bought it. Instead, I ended up with another leviathon. Also purchased with Husband in tow. 'Nuff said?