It's a beautiful day for a walk but...I need to think this through

The wind has stopped and the sun is shining. Quick! We can add ’pram walk’ back to the list of things to do for the day. Let’s go then….

Wait a minute! That sounds a bit easy, I hear you say. How wise you are. Going for a walk with a baby takes planning in any event but when you are in an apartment, there are a few extra elements – mainly mental - to factor in before setting off into the great outdoors.

An important contextual fact is that our third floor apartment is not housed in a building with a lift. Every time I wish to enter or exit my apartment, I have three flights of stairs to contend with. Four, if you count the set of steps leading down to the foyer where I have chained Ethan’s pram. Thus begins the mental and physical deliberation: "To walk or not to walk? That is the question..".

It’s not so much the going down the stairs that is a bother, although there is a deep-seated fear I will misstep one day. No, it is more the inevitable fact that I must indeed climb back up those stairs if I wish to return home (of interest, our downstairs garage does have a fridge and with some space-conscious planning, I could add a cot and a change table, evict some spiders and it could be a great alternative. Well, at least until Cam returns home in the evening).

Hence, I don’t pack my beautiful baby tote, bundle Ethan into his pram and simply stroll out the front door. Instead, I pack a lightweight dodgy blue backpack, flex my muscles and carry Ethan down the stairs to his carriage waiting at the bottom.

The pram that lives under the stairs

Over the months, as Ethan has progressively gotten heavier and my slight frame has begun to buckle, I’ve cleverly taken to leaving more ‘essentials’ downstairs in the pram, to lighten the load, so to speak. The many compartments of the pram are starting to swell, as is my necessary faith that our neighbours have no interest in taking a Lamaze toy, umbrella, muslin wrap, woolies green bag or nappy change items from the pram, for their own amusement.

The timing of this important walk is key, as the walk cannot be wasted. Physical and mental investment aside, a pram walk affords a decent portion of time spent in the day where I can almost guarantee no tears.

First thing in the morning or straight after a nap is out. Ethan has been snoozing and it is only fair I let him stretch his legs with a bit of a roll and play. He is also happiest at this time, so mindless stroller walking intervention shouldn’t be required.

Late afternoon should be taken with caution, particularly with the colder evenings now setting in fast. Is it worth the risk of waiting all day, only to decide it is too cold to walk in the afternoon and thus wasting a perfectly good pram-walk opportunity during the day?

Instead, the ideal time is post-meal and pre-nap, before 4 pm. It takes into account the compulsory 'sitting' time I encourage post-meal and is a nice distraction for Ethan, who has reached his short-lived patience threshold by this time (yep, one of mummy's generic traits there) and has realised that despite his best efforts, mummy will not let him play with the remote control, roll into the glass doors on the cabinet, or continue eating her women’s weekly. With no other enticing options on the table, a bit of a wander through the neighbourhood holds some appeal.

We live at the top of a hill so unless I have a vehicle at my disposal or plan to take the bus - both worthy of a separate post in their own right - destination options are fairly generic. Once we have made it through the maze of preparations above, the only further consideration is whether I can really spend anymore time at the local shops and if we do end up there, whether I am willing to carry the inevitable chocolate purchases back up to the third floor.

Oh, and come afternoon restlessness, whether we want to go through this all over again...

The park is always a good destination for catching the late afternoon sun - so long as precautions are taken against the chilly weather.