Cartastrophe

Say, I want a revolution.

Why? I’ll tell you. (See what happens when you start asking questions.)

The other day I had to run some errands. Now that I have a wee one this isn’t always that easy. Getting out of the door takes an additional 15 minutes. Why? I’ll tell you. Because you have to put the baby into the car seat, put on her hat, buckle the straps (which are inevitably tangled) only to hear the world’s largest poot. You must then undo the still-tangled straps, take off the hat and deal with the world’s largest blowout. This series of events will be done and undone until all contents of wee one’s bowels are emptied and it dawns on the poor mother (me!) that now I have to go to the bathroom. That is how you get an additional 15 minutes, although if you plan for such a delay, it will inevitably take 30 minutes.

So after getting Miss Dub into the car seat the other day, we headed off to the store, which wasn’t where I thought it was because I think I have a better memory than I really do. Upon finally arriving at the store, I had to get her out of the car, otherwise known as a Honda Civic. Between the infant car seat base and the car seat, Miss Dub practically touches the ceiling. So getting her out requires me to get on all fours and clumsily pull her out, bumping my head several times on the way. So I always start my errands frustrated and with a headache.

But, wait, I’m not to the revolution yet.

When I got into my local Jewel Osco (known as Albertson’s out West), I grabbed a cart, only to find that the proportions of the drop-down seat made Miss Dub’s car seat lopsided, placing her head lower than her feet. So I tried to put her inside the cart but that only worked until my third can of refried beans, at which point I ran out of room for the rest of my groceries. So I tried to juggle two carts: one for Miss Dub and one for my food. That would have worked if the carts had four operating wheels but both had some physical impairments. So I gave up and put Miss Dub in the aforementioned reflux-inducing positioning. And induce, it did. By the end of our shopping, she was choking on her spit and glassy-eyed.

So I thought, “I want to start a revolution; a cart revolution.”

Let’s examine the facts:

Places that have acceptable carts: Target. (Duh.)

Places that don’t have acceptable carts: Walmart, Jewel, Whole Foods, Costco and every other stinkin’ establishment on planet Earth.

With the exception of Whole Foods, all these places are family-oriented. (And Whole Foods should be – nature is a mother, right? – but all I ever get are nasty glares from all the organic-happy but lonely people buying a single roll of recycled TP.) So why hasn’t it dawned on them that their carts don’t work with infant car seats?

I know that it’s only a few months until Miss Dub can sit upright in the drop-down den of germs. I know that I could wait until Mr. Dub gets home and frantically run all my errands until I get engorged. I know that all the blood will not rush to Miss Dub’s head and kill her in the amount of time it takes to do my shopping.

But how hard is it to make those drop-down seats in the right dimensions to properly accommodate an infant car seat? How hard is it to help out a new mother?

That’s the question I want to ask these companies.

In letter form.

With proper punctuation.

Will you please join me?

(And don’t even get me started about returning my cart. I know it’s the kind thing to do, but am I expected to leave my child unattended while I traipse across the parking lot?)