As a mom to back-to-back babies, I have a stroller the size of a souped-up RV complete
with four cup holders, two snack bowls and loads of storage underneath.
Despite the back-breaking effort of hefting it into the trunk, I am in love with my mac daddy pram –
except when trying to get through doorways.
I never noticed how oblivious people were until I started rolling this baby up to store
entrances. As I approach heavy glass doors I cross my fingers that someone will be
walking out of the shop at the same time, obligating them to hold the door open for us.
Sometimes my chant of, “open, open, open,” fails to produce a shopper going in the
opposite direction. Contortions to get the kids inside, with limbs intact, ensue. With my
right hand I grab the heavy glass door and use my foot as a doorstop. I push the stroller
in as far as I can before the glass door begins to bang against the child sitting in the front
seat who is now trying to use her own appendages to drive the door back. Squeezing
my butt along the door, I use my cheeks to gain leverage while I thrust the stroller to the
other side. God help me if there are double doors.
In my huffing and puffing to get in and out, dozens of people pass us by with no offer
to help. The worst is when I’m attempting my entrance gymnastics and someone walks
through the other way like I’m just there to hold the door open for them.
Three out of five times a Good Samaritan does come to our aid and I’m reminded, in
those times, how much a simple gesture means.