(I’m taking a brief detour from the photographing babies series because I need to rant, but don’t worry, I’ll get back to it soon.)
Usually J and I are pretty good about not getting sucked into the evil commercial vortex that leaves so many parents spinning out of control and feeling a bit nauseous. At least, we were. Until we entered the stroller zone. After spending a fair amount of time researching on the internet, talking to friends, and trying out strollers in the store, I have only this to say:
Are you fucking kidding me?
This is ridiculous. I used to look at families with six strollers in wonder and amazement, and, I won’t lie, a bit of judgment. How could anyone possibly need six strollers? To all of you, I can only say that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I get it now. I really do. Especially because we’re only three strollers away from having six, and we still don’t have the one (or apparently two) that we need. We have a Snap N Go that I’ve been using with the car seat bucket, an older Graco convertible that can take a bucket or a toddler and is super bulky and annoying, and a hard-core, no-frills jogging stroller that F won’t fit into for several more months. The good news is that we spent a total of $20 on all three, thanks to the generosity of family members.
All we need is a sturdy stroller that I can use on a daily basis – meaning that it doesn’t weigh a ton and doesn’t require a degree in physics to fold and un-fold. Easy enough, right? Wrong. There are so many strollers, and so many features. Will we be doing mostly city walking? What about the bumpy, cracked sidewalks of our town? How about trips to the beach, or trail walking? What if I finally get off my duff and start jogging with the baby? Do we want a stroller for one child, or should we spring for the models that can take another seat should you need one down the future? (NO, people, I’m not pregnant. Please.) How far does it need to recline, and how big should the sunshade be? Does our daughter need a footrest? A five-point restraint system with padded straps? Extendable handlebar? Swivel or fixed front wheel? Pneumatic tires? If so, how many? Three is more stylish, but four may be more practical. (And what the hell are pneumatic tires anyway?) And what about my needs? How big is the basket underneath? Will it hold everything I buy at the mall? Why am I worried about trips to the mall when I never go to the mall? Are there other pockets and storage spaces for my tchotchkes? And where is the damn cupholder??
If you’re feeling overwhelmed, you should be. My husband and I have successfully purchased two cars and a house without this much of a headache. (Well, that might not be exactly true, but it’s pretty darn close.) Even if the perfect stroller was out there, it would probably cost $800 or more, which is about $750 more than we really want to spend on a stroller.
We went to the local “justify-spending-too-much-money-on-baby-gear-because-you’re -buying-it-from-a-locally-owned-store” store to try out strollers, and we took one for a test drive up and down the street. We thought it was a decent stroller, but the saleslady was concerned that it might not work on the bumpy sidewalks or ice and snow of the Northeast. She recommended we get one with pneumatic tires. I couldn’t decide if she was right, or trying to convince us that we need a Hummer to navigate the streets of Boston.
After we got home, I did some more research online, and found it fairly unhelpful. For every positive comment I found about any given stroller, someone else hated it. Blergh. In the end, we chose the Baby Jogger City Mini. It’s a bit more than we had wanted to spend, but my in-laws were nice enough to get it for us. It’s super light-weight, obscenely easy to fold, and seems a bit sturdier than your average umbrella stroller. It seems to get universally positive reviews. I had hoped we would find one stroller that would meet all of our needs, but sadly, I don’t think that’s going to happen. Don’t be surprised if you see me writing about our next stroller purchase sometime in the future.





