The big outing today was to Crate & Barrel to find an organizational unit for the myriad of toys in this place. I know, I've been harping on this "organizational unit" for months now. I'm sure people purchase homes, vehicles and new tatas with less consideration than this but I haven't been able to pull the trigger as of yet (on the toy chest, not the toy chest). Today was my big day. We have this $250.00 gift card I've been holding hostage in my wallet since 2002. No joke. It's all faded in the crease and probably holds zero value anymore but I have to try. The suspense is killing me. Will they honor it? Will they laugh in my tardy for the party face? Will they call the McCops and whisk me away to the underground cubicle that smells of cheese and stale air freshener? I must find out. We must find out.
SO, with all children and of course dog in tow, we minivanned it to the nearest C & B store. There was a little odd shaped parking lot so we zigged and zagged until I realized we had a situation. Yep, we were stuck. But of course. Why wouldn't we be? I put us in reverse and slowly scooched out of our "spot" while hearing the tell tale "kkkkkkkkkhhhhh" on the back panel. Driver side. Mirror too.
Stop me? Hellsno. We trucked right into a plus size parking spot and this big ole Momma heaved we three upstairs via elevator coffin.
Because it was post magical-45-minute-kid-friendly-window time, I had to hold Abby on my hip, push her stupidass stroller, while making sure a tired and yawny Grayson wasn't touching any chachkes. Did I mention we were in Crate & Barrel? There are more chachkes in that joint than there are any crates or any barrels. He did well, however and I timed out before either of them could.
We bought nothing. We never even asked about the ancient artifact gift card. The suspense was outmatched by the passionate desire to rest my kinked up left shoulder blade.
Maybe fourteen minutes later we were back downstairs in the parking lot uploading everyone again into their very hot and all too itchy respective places for the ride home. Suck, do I.
Admittedly: fastest most useless errand running in the history of running errands.
Tomorrow we are setting our sights on some live (kid) music by 11am. Oh yeah. Nightmare City. Perhaps you want to wager some time tables? Twenty-two minutes? Do I hear thirty? Right. Let's not get insane here. Clearly, I should have some macaroni crafts planned. Probably should get the vehicle washed too before my husband comes home pre-darktime one night and wonders what sort of concrete pylon got fresh with the side of it.