Title: "I Just Wanted to Use the Damn Stroller (But Ended Up in a Full-Blown Crisis Outside Target)

Ok ladies, let’s talk about it.

Unless I missed a memo—was I supposed to instinctively know how to use every piece of baby equipment like I was born with that knowledge encoded in my uterus?

Because I just spent 30 minutes outside of Target, sweating, panicking, and spiraling through a full-blown existential crisis... because I couldn’t figure out how to detach the car seat from the stroller.

Yes, I hear you. “There are directions.” “Maybe try it before using it in public?” And to both I say: fair. valid. makes sense. But also—have you met postpartum??

I walked out of the house today without shoes. Without shoes. Then genuinely debated whether going back in to get them was worth it. That’s where we’re at.

So yes, I absolutely should have done a test run. But here’s the thing: new mom life is chaos. You think I had time to read a manual? I’m over here holding my eyelids open with two fingers, surviving on caffeine, dry shampoo, and sheer delusion.

This Target meltdown? This was my first solo outing with the baby. My brave little venture into the world. And I was defeated by plastic clicky parts designed by some smug engineer who probably sleeps eight hours a night and has never lactated through a T-shirt.

Naturally, I did what any desperate, mildly feral mom would do—I turned to every platform that’s ever hosted a video tutorial in the history of the internet. YouTube, TikTok, Instagram Reels, some suspicious Reddit thread from 2012. And still—NOTHING. Couldn’t even figure out what to search because “how to remove car seat from stroller” turned into “why does everyone make this look so easy and am I just stupid now??”

Meanwhile, every person walking by me suddenly felt like a threat. Were they judging me? Were they going to offer help? Were they even real?? Probably not. But this is the level of panic we’re talking about. Totally reasonable, right?

And while we’re here—breast pumps. WHY does the manual unfold like a treasure map from the 1800s and make even less sense? Do you think I’m in a headspace to decipher ancient diagrams while a stranger (my baby) screams at me for not knowing how to feed her?

I was 24 hours postpartum, hallucinating from exhaustion, nipples raw, and reading a pump guide like it was an encrypted CIA file. I didn’t even realize I was reading it in the wrong language. And yes, I did cry. Loudly.

So let’s talk about it. Why is newborn gear designed like it’s part of a Survivor challenge? Why is there nothing intuitive about the things we’re supposed to use while healing from birth and trying to keep a human alive?

Let’s change the game. Let’s get rich. Let’s simplify baby products. And then use the profits to buy so much formula we never have to read a damn instruction manual again.

Solidarity forever, mama.