Crazy Town

I've done a lot of inadvisable things in my twenty-four years on this planet. Wearing silver open-toed heels on New Year's Eve, running for the train and slamming my shins into the stairs being a recent example. But that foolish (but hot!) idea was not even the dumbest thing I'd do this weekend. No, the dumbest thing I did this weekend was go to the Ikea in Stoughton.

I am a great proponent of Ikea, as long-time readers of this site know. If the Whatever and I had worked out, odds are we would have been married inside an Ikea since we spent several weekends this summer in the car driving to and from New Haven to furnish his apartment. I have an Ikea bookshelf, bedside light, shelf on the wall, magazine holders, toilet scrubber and boxes, and that's all I can remember off the top of my head. I love the combination of frugality and style. $4.99 for 15 Swedish meatballs doesn't hurt either.

I got my freelance check in the mail on Saturday, so I decided to head to Ikea and buy a huge bookshelf I've had my eye on for quite some time. My room is full of crap, most of which is books. I seem to have forgotten about the wonder of a library, because I've been buying most of the books I've read lately. Add in the small collection I got from friends for Christmas, and there's small piles forming on all available surfaces. I decided I'd run to Ikea and get a taller shelf to alleviate the problem of books on inappropriate surfaces.

Alas, I agreed to babysit, so in order to have transportation there, I had to bring three kids with me. I knew it was kind of foolish, but the kids were excited. I'd told them about the inexpensive snacks, the inexpensive, cool furnishings, and that they had places for kids to play. So we piled into the family minivan at noon, and headed to Stoughton.

The kids caught me up on how their Christmas had been (lots of felt crafts, lemon merangue pie) and traffic went at a good clip until we got close to exit 19B. About half a mile from the exit, the traffic slowed to a crawl, and a sign read "exit 19B closed, local traffic use exit 20." Which seemed odd since exit 20 was behind us. But we persevered, and got to the offramp. And sat in traffic.

"Amy, honk the horn," the Boy said.

"Well, that won't help anything," I replied, watching traffic crawl in all directions. "Nobody's doing anything wrong, so there's no need. There's just too many people."

"Amy, what if our car could fly? Then we could park it on the treetops and get out and go shopping and it would be fine."

"The longest trip we ever took in our car was to Western Massachusetts and we got lost and played on paddle boats."

"I can't wait to have macaroni and cheese!"

We slowly came around a corner and headed towards Ikea. I'd never been to Stoughton before, and I was presented with an orgy of consumerism, mostly dedicated to the furniture-loving crowd. A Bob's Discount Furniture, a Bernie and Phyl's, a Jordan's, something called Furniture to Go, and Ikea.

"Wow, every store I've ever seen is here," I murmured as the kids looked around.

"Then where's the Target?" My love for Target is well-known, even to the under-ten set.

"I hear there's one around here."

"Where's the Costco?"

"Right over there," I said, motioning past the Ikea.

We followed the cars into the garage. Many people parked about a quarter of a mile away and walked, but with a baby in tow, I wanted to get closer to the doors. I even had the foolish idea of trying to get one of the family-friendly parking spots. Once I got into the garage and saw the complete bedlam inside, I abandoned the notion and looked for anything within two white lines. The kids writhed around in the backseat in that "we need to pee" way that kids have, so I knew we'd have to find something soon.

Luckily, I stumbled upon two older women who were leaving. God bless you both, ladies.

"AMY! Use your turn signal! That way the other cars won't take the spot!" They learned much about the ways of the world today.

We parked, woke the Baby up, and ran inside. After a bathroom break, we got in line to wait in line for our lunch. There was a Swedish meatball bouncer, telling people to get to the back of the line. The kids peered toward the kids furniture that's close to the cafeteria, and I basically held them by the backs of their shirts to keep them close to me. Baby wouldn't let me put her down.

We bought some mac and cheese, and I got some Swedish meatballs. Eventually some merciful souls saw a woman with three hungry looking kids and got up and gave us the table. I sat gratefully, and set everyone up with lunch. Eldest Girl watched everything, and had a blast reading all the signs about why everything is set up in that efficient Ikea way. After lunch, we headed into the showroom so I could find the location of my bookshelf and get the hell out.

I remember going with my mother to various furniture stores in Rhode Island as a kid, and thinking it was the most boring thing in the world. I couldn't put my feet on the couches, and this was way before the time of furniture stores with movie theaters in them. I'd sit and try to blow a bubble with my Bubblicious big enough to suffocate myself and end the boredom. I can say that even though the kids didn't end up at the dedicated kid's play area at Ikea, they had a good time. They jumped from couch to couch like they were frogs on lilipads. They actually liked the kid's furniture. Boy figured out how to use a shoehorn that somebody left on a shelf and was so endlessly fascinated by it I was tempted to buy it for him. It was only $.99 anyway.

We found the bookshelf I wanted on display, and I wrote down the location of it in the self-serve area. I herded the kids through the crowd and headed downstairs into the shopping area. My back ached, so I popped the baby into a cart and we gathered up everything I wanted to buy.

Then we hit the framed art area, which is about two departments away from the self-serve area, which is right near the cash registers, when we saw people waiting. My mind boggled as I asked the people standing there if they were in line to check out.

"Yep. It'll be about an hour from here to the checkouts."

Boy checked his watch, and reported it was 3:30. I told their parents I'd have them home by 5, and waiting in line and waiting to get everything in the garage to the car would make us much later than that. I'm a good babysitter, but there was no way I'd be able to keep three kids interested in waiting in a line for an hour. Not to mention I wasn't sure if I could even lift the box that my beloved bookshelf came in alone, and I feared if I tried a small child would end up pinned beneath the box. My better judgment prevailed, and I abandoned the cart by the wall mounts.

"Amy, you're leaving your stuff. How are you going to pay for it?" The Eldest asked.

"I'm not buying anything today. I'm not waiting for an hour. I'll come back another time." I heaved the baby out of the seat and we began our trek for the door.

We did wait in line for a cinnamon bun for the kids to split, and I got a Lingonberry soda. After another stop at the loo, we got in the car and headed back. I dropped them off with their parents, who looked very refreshed while the baby and I both looked like soldiers who returned from war having seen too much misery. I guess I'll have to take a day out of work sometime and get everything because there is no way I'm going to Ikea on a weekend anytime soon.