Big Red Pram

9
the kings

 

I have a clear memory of walking through our village, pushing a big red double buggy containing five year old Daisy and three year old Lenny.  Rosie, who was a very slight and elfin-like seven year old, would often tire of walking, or wanting to join in the ride, would perch herself on the molded handle of this contraption, facing me, the work-horse, and entertaining me with her bizarrely delightful conversation.

Despite the obvious problems associated with travelling in this way; I couldn’t have been happier.  All that my heart held dear was contained in my big red pram.  I was in complete control – all of our daily necessities (nappies, snacks, toys for distraction, and the ever-present bumper pack of pampers wipes) rested reassuringly on the netting underbelly.  I never had to think about troublesome matters like parking meters, acts of rebellion or denial of entry.  If the wheels of the buggy could navigate the terrain leading to any destination, and the energy source of my optimism was still in full flow, then we could go.  If one of my unusual offspring decided that compliance wasn’t the order of the day, then I could bodily lift up that particular child, secure him back into the pram (yes, it was usually Lenny) and we could be on our our merry way, to a more satisfactory location.

Us ultra-busy, doggy-paddling-through-each-day parents of toddlers and young children should never make the mistake of assuming that our roles as decision maker, protector, feeder, dresser, educator, advisor and soulmate are anything but temporary; I see that now.

With Rosie making the final preparations for her independent life at university, and conversations about Daisy and Lenny’s eventual care package surfacing regularly, I find myself looking back to those days of the Big Red Pram wistfully.  How comforting it was to be able to keep the dangers of the world at bay, to board and retreat to the sanctity of our home whenever things became too much.

Now, I have to begin to trust the world – or at least the people who make up the part of it that most matters to my children.  I have to learn to use my energy to help to plan, advise, and to facilitate as much independence as each child can strive towards.  No easy task.

If only there were a red pram big enough, and an ageless, eternally energetic version of myself to push it along, I often muse.  But no, I guess that wouldn’t be quite right either…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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2 thoughts on “Big Red Pram”

  1. this post just shows me that your family is just like mine in so many ways – I felt just as you do when our eldest (of 4) left to go away to University – the sense of an ending was heart-breaking, raw and so so sad. I felt I wasn’t ready to have my little world broken apart despite the joy of my son’s success!
    Treasure every memory of those special days – they grow up and away so quickly – whatever their challenges and our challenges we cannot keep the cocoon forever.
    best wishes from Melbourne, Australia – and love to Rosie who will do great at uni and we will follow her adventures with joy! Tell her I work as an educational consultant trying to make the world a more ASD friendly palce one school at a time, one teacher at a time and we (http://nest.net.au) show her (and your) Youtube clips all the time.
    Thank you for your blog and your wisdom! We try so ahrd to be correct in what we say and I probably have this wrong but truly, I think your blog is great and you are terrific, as a Mum and a writer. And Rosie is a miracle. I am sure your other kids are also miraculous – thnaks for sharing
    cressida x

    Liked by 1 person

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