They say opposites attract, and in many ways Mr Mother Fudger and I fit that mould. He is calmer, more patient and understands how computers work. I fail on all those three character traits.
So when I decided the time had come to clean our daughter’s car seat cover it was inevitable I would have a tantrum akin to the seat’s main user.
Just taking the seat out from our car that is designed for a family pushed me to the limit. I’d unbuckled the seat, I’d pressed the special safety button, I’d loosened every possible fastening but still the thing wouldn’t move. Insert YouTube video viewing here on how to complete this task.
Then I managed to haul the enormous mound of plastic into the house before realising there is absolutely no way you can peel off the crusty cover in order to clean it. Lucky I am borderline insanitary and have chosen the “let it dry/give it a good wet wipe” approach for previous cleans.
Insert YouTube video number two. Now all I could find was a silent homemade video with a wannabe hand model showing me clearly nothing but the back of their hand as they made it look like a piece of piss to get the seat belts through.
Abandon YouTube video and insert husband A here.
By this point my own frustration turned to anger mixed with what had become more physical movement than I’d done in labour resulted in me looking like Jack Nicholson at the end of The Witches of Eastwick.
Mr MF laughed. I spat that I had watched the bloody videos but it just didn’t make sense.
He worked it out in about three seconds while I huffed loudly. Relief. Not such relief as he started to show me the vast collection of rotten food and general grot hiding under the cover. I don’t think our compost has decomposed as well as the deposits wedged in the small plastic crevices.
But it is washed and he was obviously tasked with putting the cover back on and the car seat back in the car.
However, it doesn’t end there, as you see the motivation for the car seat clean was because we’re moving up the baby to this car seat and buying a new one for our daughter. HAVE YOU SEEN HOW MANY OPTIONS THERE ARE? It is insane. How on earth can we make a decision on something that could save our child’s life? The £25 bargain one must obviously be a killer, we have to spend at least a £100 (well done marketers, your job is done). And surely it must be a good make, and it has to fit our car, as you can’t just choose one and buy it because fitting is the utmost of importance.
Insert me watching a huge array of safety videos made about how people just don’t fit them properly so even if you spent a million pounds on your car seat this is irrelevant and you will have killed your child because quite frankly it was your fault. Waaaaaaaaaaaaah.
When we purchased my daughter’s car seat with the grotty cover I went through all of the above and finally made a decision to be told by a leading supplier and fitter that practically nothing would fit our car because we had a major “buckle break” issue and the best option was to sell the car.
So another parenting minefield we have hit, one we’ve hit before and the sheer shit-inducing paranoia of injury or worse hovers above our head.
The responsibility of being a parent huh!