I take Bella to the park several times a week. It’s a beautiful park; huge trees, wide paths, tucked back away from traffic, in an old, rich neighborhood full of beautiful homes.
Mostly it’s full of moms and dads at their kids soccer practices, and older people walking their dogs. When you pass someone, it’s usually with a smile and nod, perhaps a, “Your puppy is adorable” or “How cute is your little girl’s hat!” I love walking there.
But sometimes, I get there when someone else does. Someone else that lives in the area, and has a lot of money, and wants everyone to know about it. She isn’t interested in smiles, small talk, or even a simple nod.
She’s a stroller snob.
Let me be clear – I love my Jeep jogger. It does the job well, and – too short of a hood excluded – it fits my needs perfectly. I did a lot of research before choosing it. We live in a state with seasons that can get severe, and trails that can get rough. I chose a more rugged stroller that would work year round to take Bella out in. My parents got it for me as a surprise last Christmas (I put it on my list never expecting anyone to buy me it) and it’s been essential ever since.
So I’m walking with Bella today and pass a woman, her daughter around my age, and her new baby. They are beautifully dressed and look like they stepped out of a magazine for high end winter gear. The baby is in a Skate stroller from Peg Perego. It runs from $700 to $900 and I’m sure it’s worth every penny.
And to be honest, in person it looks like a small shopping cart. Really. :/
Anyway, as I get close to them, I smile at the woman. She stares at me, then coolly runs her eyes over my stroller, WINCES, and actually snubs her nose. Like in the air and everything. Her daughter never even glances at me.
I am floored.
I walk on and shrug it off. I know from being a nanny, rich people can be odd. Who cares, the park is for everyone. I don’t see a sign that says, “Only people with strollers $500 and up please. All other scum will be removed promptly from their view.”
I pass them again as we go around for a second time. This time they both actually look away as I go by, then give the stroller a side glance with smirks, and laugh.
I feel about as special as a fart.
The third time we pass, I look away. I can’t take the evilness.
I get everything loaded in the car and reflect on it on my way back home. To me, it’s sad that something as simple as a stroller can be such a status statement. I’m a mom, so were both of them. It would have been nice to pass by and exchange the understanding, “I had to get out for a while” looks with peeks at each other’s kids.
When did a stroller become such an image of who we are as mothers? I’m not saying that anyone who has a nice stroller is a snob – no way. And it would be fun to have a really expensive one – if it was perfect for our lifestyle. What I’m talking about is when you use your stroller, or diaper bag, or carseat, or anything – to one up someone in life.
Whatevs. My stroller doesn’t resemble the small, double decker shopping carts at the grocery store. And next time I pass them, I’ll wear Target sunglasses just to class it up that.much.more for their viewing pleasure.