I love Ikea. No really. I just had the most insane weekend and it all started with "Are you ready to go to Ikea?" Because this takes most of the day. We should have like, packed a cooler. And a tent. Yeah. A tent would have been good. Because Ikea? They won't let you sleep on the beds in their store. And most definitely not when they want to close. Not that we tried. Ok, not that we tried really hard.
Mr X decided that before Ikea we should go to Sears because 'Sears totally has kid's beds. I know they do. They have to!' and you know? I was kind of scared by the desperation in his voice so I just patted his head and said 'ok.' And then I got excited because I knew this was going to involve swearing. And not just swearing, but that lame stuff he does in front of the kids that I think is funny but no one else does.
We packed up the kids and headed out. Mr X decided that we had to go to a Sears we had never been to before "they're all different! I just know it!" and it took forever to get there. I have the World's Tiniest Bladder. As in, it doesn't matter that I went 5 minutes ago, I have to go again and NOW. And every little dip in the road was killing me! We finally pull into the parking lot and I could've floated into the mall. I don't think I've ever run so fast. Mr X said it was funny because I look like an idiot while exercising and my desperate pee-dash counted. It is at this point that I must profess my unnatural love of Sears. Or at least this Sears. For while they had nothing interesting in the way of beds, their bathroom had many, many stalls. Enough that I didn't have to wait in line, although I got quite a few looks as I ran in (remember: me running= idiot).
I was so relieved I didn't even pick on Mr X too badly when we found out about the lack of beds. Well, not as much as I pick on him for watching American Idol.
Then it was on to Ikea. Oh Ikea, how I love your confusing 3 buildings solely for parking. And the insane way that they are set up so that it guarantees many near misses. It led to Mr X's unleashing of the 'flatulent Buffalo!' swear.
We set Girl X loose in the store, telling her to choose her new bed. Which? Tantamount to telling her the store was made of candy and she had free rein to go wild.
She laid on everything. Including some low-lying coffee tables. We had to stop her from climbing on to the lower lying dressers. We also had to explain that the pallet in the corner was not a bed. Just a pallet. She threw herself across 4 beds declaring 'this is the one! I love it! It's perfect! Yes, this one!' each time. Then she would spot a different bed, a new color, the wood, the metal, the height, the fact that this one is lying along the path with all the others but the other one is set up like it's in a room.... it all mattered. After begging and pleading and a minor tantrum on Mr X's part, she finally chose a wrought-iron style bed. But only if we agreed to buy the netting that goes over the bed. She's such a negotiator!
The dresser. I swear, after this? I never want to go shopping with this girl again. She pulled out each and every drawer on every dresser they had. Open. Close. Slowly. Quickly. Open. Close. Running her hands over the top. Studying the grain in the wood and peering intently into the smooth surface of the white one. And then chose the first one she saw. By the time we got to nightstands, we gave her a choice between 2 and 5 minutes to decide. She sighed and lamented about how that was simply not enough time to study the nightstands much less decide. But she did.
Then it was on to picking Hurricane's future bed. It was then that I discovered where Girl X got her shopping habits from. Mr X poked at every single kid's bed they had. Did I mention that we had already decided before we left which one we wanted? Uh-huh. So, poke poke. At least he didn't lay on them. No. He had Girl X lay on them and then told her to pretend she was a boy. She promptly burped and started scratching her belly. I stopped her before she went any further with that.
The bed we picked? Exactly what we already knew we were getting. I think the whole thing with poking all those other beds was simply 'fun' for Mr X. Hurricane was totally bored with the whole thing. We got Hurricane the Kura bed. You can start it out low and then flip it over so he sleeps on the top bunk and has a play area underneath. We got him a dresser just like his sister's and thankfully, it did not require opening and closing each and every drawer. Same thing with the nightstand.
We started winding our way out of the store when Mr X spotted a Diktad. Gah! I love those names! It was this little itty-bitty desk just the perfect size for Hurricane. And we HAD to have it. That's the thing about Ikea. You go in for like 4 things, and you leave with an entirely new house.
Then it was time for the part I always dread. The self-serve warehouse. Which? Not so bad in itself, but the signs that lead the way, the signs that promise it's just around the corner? They lie. People could disappear from that path never to be found again. Which is probably why Mr X began chanting "All roads lead to Rome!" and muttering about needing his Caesar costume from 2 years ago. ****Side story- Here I go again, getting all off topic because it's what I do and I do this when I'm talking to people too and I am so damned annoying. Mr X always dresses up for Halloween, but it's always matched to whatever the kids are wearing. One year, Girl X was Scooby, he was Shaggy. Hurricane was Humpty Dumpty, he was the brick wall. She was Cleopatra, he was Caesar. He spent that night wandering the neighborhood shouted "Hail Caesar!", "Et tu Brutus?" and "My kingdom for a horse!" which I think was not quite right but then, neither is he. And if our neighbors think I'm a falling down drunk? Imagine what they think of him!******* Back to 'All roads leading to Rome'. Mr X was not satisfied with freaking out the people in the lighting section. No, he then had to announce to everyone else on the path that he thought Swedish food made him gassy. People gave us a very wide berth. In fact, it was wide enough that while everyone else waited in line, we? Did not.
When we went to load everything into the van, we realized that it would not all fit. I'm not sure why this was such a surprise to us. We had removed the back seats, but what in the world ever made us think we could fit a queen size bed, a bunk bed, 2 dressers, 2 nightstands and a desk in there. So we drove to Mr X's work , in the industrial area, to get his shop truck.
He drove back to pick up the rest of our things while I attempted to entertain the little people at McDonald's. I never thought I'd long for a playland so badly! Instead we spent the hour playing 'guess that smell'.
Y'all? The bathroom won.
Killing an hour was harder than I thought it would be and it's not like we could really hide since the place was empty. Feeding them only took 20 minutes and then I had all that time left to try to keep them from destroying the place.
When Mr X came back I got to hear several new 'swear' words that involved chipmunks and enemas. The dresser we had picked out for Hurricane had sold out by the time he went back, but they would have more of them the next morning. Which meant 3 trips, 3 different cars in 2 days. And more swearing.
Mr X left early the next morning to get there as soon as they opened but first stopped at the shop to get the truck. When he was turning off the alarm, he accidentally bumped the fire button but the alarm cleared and nothing showed on the little screen so he thought nothing of it. He pulled in his car and then lowered the garage door. As he was leaving, he heard these sirens and wondered where they were coming from.
And then he saw them pull right in front of his work. There was much swearing and none of it involved animals. At least not the kind that would have been safe for children. So far the day had cost his company $150 (thank you awesome boss for not making him pay!) and they weren't even open. Although, I do think Mr X will now and forever be known as Smokey the False.
The day couldn't possibly get worse. Right?
He made it home with Hurricane's dresser, so relieved that he made it back in tact, happily backing up the truck to unload.
He ran right into the garage door.
I've been trying really hard not to laugh in front of him. Well, not too hard anyway.