Sometimes at the moment I look at myself in the mirror and wonder how the hell this woman happened.
She used to be carefree, single and restless.
She used to enjoy raiding in World of Warcraft, long evenings of pointless conversation (sometimes wine-fuelled) and seeing three films back to back in the cinema.
Today she spent the afternoon looking at estate cars (Hyundai vs Vauxhall. Who knows what the future brings), signing a contract saying we are selling one flat as we have purchased instead a freehold house of our very own to share with GM and Bolle, and browsing the aisles of Barnas Hus to buy necessities for the latter as well as a birthday present for a little friend whose cake we are eating tomorrow.
I guess today’s changing room technically speaking does not belong to Barnas Hus, but to the shopping centre in which the shop is located. However, they are right next door, and the Stokke changing table looks suspiciously like the one they stock, so I’m counting it as theirs.
A digression. In return for paying them about NOK 100k to sell our flat slightly below its asking price, Sandnes Sparebank gave us a Jamie Oliver recycled glass water bottle and matching drinking vessel. There is something very odd about this.
I think the gift given by estate agents at the contract signing is meant to be congratulatory, but it seems a bit mocking to me.
Though at least they didn’t give us two ugly mugs like Eiendomsmegler1, from whom we bought our new place.
In fact, I would highly recommend our agent, he is a self-confessed Christian and married father to two and one of the way, and owns two very pricey BMWs which I’m guessing means he’s relatively reliable, honest and pretty good at his job.
Bolle said thank you for his hard work and the glassware by pooping on his meeting table. Inside her diapers, but still.
So in reality we changed her on the floor of their disabled toilet, but I made her pose for the Barnas Hus photos also.
|Look mummy! I can dangle my feeeeeet!|
The changing room. A pretty much run-of-the-mill room, with no windows, slightly depressing lighting and no breastfeeding facilities.
The only feature that makes it stand out is the expensive Stokke Care changing table (RRP almost NOK 4K!).
It is decked out with a tiny padded mat, which is nice. It has nice edges which makes side rolling a non-issue.
Still, it’s a pretty short table, and Bolle could easily have arched her bum off the edge and fallen off. Bit unfortunate when the table is in one corner and the sink in another.
There is a bin for diapers with no lid, which could make for a smelly affair at times.
There are paper towels and a sink. Everything is clean-ish. That’s pretty much it.
You’d think Barnas Hus would take this opportunity to showcase some changing room merchandise, but they don’t. Maybe because people would steal it anyway.
But I do think that a mall which attracts large hordes of parents (both Barnas Hus and another massive store answering to the odious name of Babykos are located here) should really make a bit more of an effort.
That could turn it into somewhere to go because you want to, not because you have to.
And yes, the title of this post is a not-so-oblique reference to the 1988 Christmas album of immortal boyband NKOTB. I am indeed old.
|Generic sink. Althoug nice tiles!|
Changing facilities: Average.
Breast feeding facilities: None. And as the only eatery in the mall is an extremely noisy breastfeeding nightmare, I think there should be some.
Parent peeing facilities: None, but there are some right nextdoor.
Best feature: Expensive changing table, sturdy with lots of shelves to, erm, put your changing bag on.
Worst feature: It’s just not very inviting.
Would I use again? I will, I know I will..
Bolle says: «But I already got a dry diaper like five minutes ago!?»
Bolle wears: Hoodie and jeans from H&M. Wool socks from Sparkjøp. Bodysuit from Mothercare.