Wishful Slacker

Ikea with a Toddler

Let me start off by saying that this excursion will be either 1) the most brilliant idea you've ever had for a family outing, or 2) the most disastrous morning you have ever had, EVER, regarding your child's level of peace and the happiness of your marriage.  I don't think there is any gray area. 

We actually tried this Saturday morning, and because our adventure actually went WELL, I decided to share our tips. 

1) Bring a list.  A list.  I repeat, a LIST.  You need to attack Ikea like you never had before.  No more dawdling, no more wandering, no more, "Oh my God, look at this!  Isn't this coollll??? This giant picture of London and a double-decker bus??? Do you think it would fit that one wall we have?  No, not that one- the one nearest the television..."

Done.  If you have this conversation at any point in your trip to Ikea with a toddler, you will be finished.

To help with your list, you must peruse their website or catalog with a very keen eye.  Wander around your home absentmindedly, whilst carrying a glass of Bordeaux.  Whatever you trip over, write down what Ikea product would offer a solution.  I was so sick and tired of the jumble of shoes at our entranceway, so help me God we needed a solution NOW. 

2)  Timing.  You must be fast when you get the slightest inkling that your child has had enough.  The thing about Ikea is the strange layout and the bottlenecks that occur.  The fact is that everyone shuffles around the escalators as though they've never seen one before, and the crowd that builds up when a shopping cart gets stuck on the little cart escalators reminds me of the dysfunctional gathering alongside the green Chicago River on St. Patty's Day.  Around the food court area it's a total congested mess.  This all adds time, and excessive time with a toddler strapped into a stationary shopping cart is not good. 

Likewise, if you are purchasing a large item, take into account that you need to come through the huge warehouse on the first floor to find the aisle and bin where it is located, and then stand around in a very unhelpful way while your husband heaves the awkward shape onto the flat trolley that you abandoned the shopping cart for.  Actually, this means that you are not being completely unhelpful, because now your task is to restrain your squirming toddler in your arms by brute force and make sure that they aren't run over by anyone after they overpower you and decide to run around. 

If you are purchasing fewer than 15 items (a first in Rhodes history), use the self checkout.  I have never seen us get through a line so quickly (line?  What line?).  By the time Jim got through the checkout, I had also managed to get Ellie to stop dancing so I could put on her coat.  Perfect timing.

And, for goodness sake!  Get there early!  It is critical!  You've been up since 6:30 anyways, there is no reason to casually stroll in at 1, which is when the whole place turns into a craft show at an old folks' home.  Our Ikea opens at 9:30.  Grab what you need, then hit the restaurant for an early lunch.  Totally manageable.

3) You need two people.  I don't know why anyone would tackle Ikea on their own ANYWAYS (who would watch the cart in the loading dock while you ran to get your car???), but you need two adults per toddler, especially when said toddler decides to crawl through all the tunnels connecting all the sample rooms in the children's area. 

4) There is a kids' playland at Ikea, but when we got there they were at capacity and the door was closed with no attendent at the desk.  There was a sign that said that the wait was 30 minutes, but it was a wooden sign so who knows how long beforehand it had been put up.  There was a second sign that read that if you left the line, you forfeited your spot.  Which meant we were dealing with either 29 minutes in a line with a toddler, or 2 minutes, or somewhere inbetween.  So that was a no go for us yesterday, unfortunately.  It looked like Ellie would have loved it based on what we could see. 

5) It's all good things from here on out.  I had to be stern in those first points, because if those fail then the trip will all go to Hell. 

Here is what made our trip to Ikea really great:

-The food.  A whole lunch with great food for $15?  Yes, please.   
-The fun sample rooms in the kids' section, especially if your child is still too young to cry when you let her play with what is there but don't bring any of it home. 
-The opportunity to fix some of the annoyances of your home and the ability to do so with a child in tow? Priceless. 
-The people watching, all the action...I think Eleanor was quite entertained. 
-And my last point, Jim and I were also entertained.  Ikea is like our version of an amusement park.  We were out of there before naptime, suffered no real tantrums (just a couple borderline fusses that forced us to get serious), and only spent $300, which was fantastic given what we bought.

Ahhh, I heart Ikea. 

P.S. This review was brought to you by a couple who don't get out much.  Follow this guide as best fits your typical relationships with other members of society




UPDATE- My sister-in-law has informed me that the Ikea playspace is actually an area where you can drop your kids OFF while you go shop without them.  There is a height requirement and they must be diaper-free.  Somehow we totally missed all of that information whilst standing nearby.  We're new at this.

Like Father Like Daughter

Nothing like a little ereading on a Sunday morning.

Big girl

Ellie transitioned into the toddler room at her daycare this past week.  Next week, instead of walking through the building to the infant rooms all the way at the back, we will be dropping her off in the toddler room, right at the front.  I have so many mixed feelings about this.  She is certainly ready for the toddler room- the toys, the schedule, the fact that she no longer will be navigating her uncoordinated toddler physique around small infants cooing on the carpeted floor.  But the saddest part is the fact that her teachers, the lovely women whom we gave our child before we turned and walked away for the very first time, will no longer be her caregivers.  It is quite an adjustment for Jim and me!

These past 15 months, it has often been the unexpected that leaves me grappling with the emotions of a mother realizing that her child is growing up faster than a science experiment pea plant.  The first toddling steps were not what brought the lump to my throat, necessarily.  But that day when I went to pick Ellie up from daycare after a harried day at work, and she walked over to meet me at the door, arms outstretched, for the very first time?  Yeah, that did it.

On Thursday I emptied the basket of clothes from Ellie's infant room cubbie and when I got home that evening I spread the contents on the floor, deciding what to bring to the new toddler room the next day.  Something took me completely off guard then.  Next to the infant-size striped socks and baby legwarmers was a plastic pacifier cover.  Ellie was never really in to pacifiers, but I remember we brought one to daycare, one year ago, in hopes that it would calm her when they laid her swaddled body down to nap.  I remember bringing the pacifier home a few weeks later and assuming that we had lost the cap.  And suddenly there it was, a sucker punch instigated by a simple piece of plastic polymer on a blue living room rug.  The formal realization that my sweet little girl, the small being whose warm head I kissed as we rocked to sleep countless times in the odd hours of morning, was no longer a baby.

That's when I got the lump in my throat.

Daddy would likely not approve

A request

Why has he not clawed her eyes out? Seriously

Chaos

There were two adults, one carrying a large Amazon box, the other carrying work and diaper bags, a toddler who refused to be carried, and one cat who leapt into the hallway for some exercise.

That is how we started our evening- the entire family running up and down the hallway.

SERIOUSLY?

Those of you who know me well know of my propensity to bitch and complain incessantly about minor inconveniences that really aren't that bad when considering the big picture.  Well, this blog post is a continuation of that theme, with a decently happy ending.  I just wanted to make that clear now, so that anyone sick of my whining can quickly stop reading and go about with their day.

I was hoping to get to the fancy Whole Foods down in Lincoln Park today, first because I needed to get us some food (hence the grocery store part), and second, because on Wednesdays I saw that there is singalong time at 10 am with teachers from the local Bubbles Academy.  The Whole Foods is about a 10 minute drive away this time of day.  Sweet, I thought, we'll go and be silly, then we can quickly shop, and then come home. 

Now, a critical aspect of getting this plan to work revolved around Ellie's nap schedule.  We are currently in between the two and one nap-per-day phase.  Some days we do two naps, others we are fine with one.  I've just been trying to arrange our schedule as best I can so that either of these nap options can be accommodated.  For the most part, that is.  If we succeeded with our Whole Foods singalong trip, it meant we would only do one afternoon nap today.  It was me dictating the rules- a fatal error in a household run by a toddler. 

Things seemed to work out in the hours leading up to the singalong time around here.  Ellie got up really early this morning (imagine Ellie crying from her crib and then Major yowling full blast in the kitchen.  No need for an alarm clock here on Roscoe Street!), and chilled out in her crib with bunny for a bit after we fed her breakfast and she had played.  She might have even slept a few minutes, but I wouldn't know for sure as I had crawled back into bed myself at that point.  She had a snack, I gave her a bath, and before I knew it, it was about time for us to head down to the car.  Even more impressive?  Ellie and I were both all ready to go.  When does that ever happen?  Seriously? 

I got us down into our garage, got Ellie in her car seat.  Went around to the drivers seat, put the key into the ignition, and the blasted key wouldn't turn.  I'm not saying the car wouldn't start- the key would not turn. 

Our Honda has this propensity for the steering wheel to lock in the parked position, especially if the tires are turned, and this makes it impossible to turn the key in the ignition. It has happened to me in the past, and what you do is jiggle the wheel back and forth so the tires straighten and then it unlocks.  Well, this morning, I jiggled, and then the jiggles turned into aggressive jerks turned into curse words and unanswered phone calls to my husband where I was ready to yell into the phone, "Why in the HELL won't this steering wheel unlock?!" 

He was lucky he was in a meeting.

The frustrating thing is, I know what will happen.  I will try the car again later this afternoon, perhaps, and the wheel will turn like butter and with ease the car will start.  Or it will present no problem when Jim tries it this evening after he gets home from work.  How many times does this happen to me?  The stubborn lid on the marinara sauce, the button to collapse the stroller, the fastener on the seat belt in the grocery cart I had last week (I thought I was going to have to leave Ellie at the Jewel).  Then someone else comes along, and, zoom!  Easy as pie!

But anyways, I digress, as usual.

To make the situation even more pleasant, Ellie started to fuss and cry from her car seat.  It was the point of no return, I-am-a-cranky-mess-let's-just-go-home type of fussing.  So I just rested my forehead on the steering wheel, and calmly thought, I am not going back upstairs until I have done our shopping. 


And so I got Cranky McCrankerson out of the backseat, parked her back into her stroller, slung the diaper bag across my shoulder, and we set out for our local Whole Foods, which is within walking distance (see, you guys, it's not like there wasn't a solution!  We have a Whole Foods just down the street, and I was fully prepared to blaze through it with my overtired and possibly disruptive child, so help me God.  Just let me buy some chicken breast). 

Well, here's the ending of the story.  I rounded the corner onto School Street, peeked in the window at our Whole Foods, and, Oh my gosh!  A lady!  With a guitar!  and a bunch of little kids dancing around her!  Our own Whole Foods had singing time.  Who knew?!  We went inside, Ellie bopped her head a couple times to the Hokey Pokey, then put her head on my shoulder.  We did our quick shop, and then Ellie promptly feel asleep in the stroller on the walk home. 




So, what did I learn?  Ellie was too tired to have even fully enjoyed the singalong time at the Lincoln Park Whole Foods even if we had made it there.  It all turned out just fine, and now we are home, and I finally have my chicken breast to add to our salad for tonight, and Ellie is still napping. 

Of course, there still is the issue of me not being able to operate the car.  But we'll just wait for Daddy to help us figure that one out :-)   

Grouch

Induced Hypertension (AKA, The Toddler in Winter)

I am sitting in the dark on the kitchen floor.

No, seriously, I am.  I am sitting in the dark on the kitchen floor, while behind me drums the tinny beats of the clothes dryer and the whooshing of the washing machine.  I am trying to return to myself, talking myself down from the ledge of hypertension that surged through my blood vessels in the two hours before the child's bedtime. 

Why did God create family mealtime at the moment when children (and parents) are at their thinnest?  I ran into the kitchen, sliced the onion, ran back into the living room, did a dance and played with blocks, ran back into the kitchen, pounded some chicken breasts (a bit harder then I really needed to, in hindsight).  Minutes before this time, as I took just 30 seconds (honest you guys, it was like 30 seconds) to write a thank you note, just around the corner from me was my child, scooping handfuls of cat food from the bowl and shoving them into her mouth.  She seems to really LOVE cat food.  It was 30 seconds...AND, I had, moments before, set the cat food UP, onto the second step of the cat's condo.  And you know what, that little stinker was like, "It's all good, I'll just climb this doo-hickey and get my cat food that way!"  And that's where I found her, knee up on the first carpeted step of Major's condo, diving into his bowl of food like it was popcorn. 

10, 9, 8, 7, 6....
I read a really great article from Poets & Writers magazine about meditating before writing.  The author of the post sits cross-legged on a pillow every morning, and clears her mind by continuously counting backwards from 10.  If any other thoughts muddle into the sequence, she starts from scratch.  Only when she can get through numerous cycles with a clear mind does she finally sit at a table and write. 

I am wondering what my blood pressure is right now. 

The cat food incident was just the start of a series of calamities, which included the same aforementioned precious child pulling my tepid (thankfully) mug of tea off the side table with a graceful sweep of her arm that was just so matter-of-fact, so, "well, this is what I'll do next, I guess!" in its intentions.  Just before that (in between the cat food, prior to the spilt tea- are you following?) was our coloring activity.  A sweep of crayon on scrap paper, then a sweep of crayon on the rug.  "No honey, not the rug.  On the PAPER.  See?  THE PAPER."  Pudgy hand switched to the green crayon.  Sweep of crayon on the paper, sweep of crayon on the rug.  "No darling, not on the rug!  On the paper, sweetie!" 

I am particularly pleased that Jim and I have, for the most part, stuck with Ikea and Target for our rugs and prefab furniture.  Because it means that I honestly don't care that we now have Crayola wax smeared on our rug.  But I always remember the time I babysat for this filthy rich couple, I'm talking crazy, crazy rich (like, pile of unopened gifts in the playroom because the kids had a gazillion other toys and felt no thrill at the thought of any more toys, imagine that?) and the boy started drawing on one of their nice dining room chair cushions.  And I said, "Oh Tommy! Here, let's draw on this instead," just as the mother walked into the room, and she said, "No, Lindsay, it's fine if they draw on those!  We can always get new ones!"  I could not believe it at the time, and remain not-okay with this principle today.  Ellie is still too young to go to town with her crayons, even though she does get off to a good start and has produced some lovely works thus far.  But I would like her to not have it infused into her head that we can color anywhere we like.  Anyways, I am acting like this Crayola-rug incident was a big deal. It really wasn't, so I'll move on. 

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5...

Following the tea spill, and the sarcastic text to Jim about it being a lovely time to run out of paper towel, followed by another text asking, "Oh my God are you on your way home now?" after the child tried sticking her head through the wooden design on the back of a dining room chair, I finally returned to dinner preparations.  It was not a complicated dinner (and a rather good one, might I add), but it was made harder since I was allowed to only do pivot turns between the stove top and the sink whilst my supporting leg remained wedged between the amazingly-tight grip of two chubby little toddler arms.  Finally Jim got home, and we ate, but not before Ellie took her first plate of food while we ran around getting silverware and napkins and threw it onto the floor.  With another attempt of frisbeeing her second plate of food, we called it a night, did our pj's-set-the-timer-read-a-book routine, and put her to bed. 

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4...

It was not even a bad day.  And now, where I sit in the darkness on the floor, I don't feel that things are bad.  But there are moments now with this kiddo where she is moving in super fast motion whilst the rest of the evening unfolds in super slow motion and she is always two seconds ahead of me.  We had a good day together, we started a 10 week toddler class at a center near here, which she seemed to enjoy (though she broke away during the singing circle time to go play with all the naked baby dolls across the room, because that is waaaayyyy cooler than puppets and rainmakers).  But I am beginning to realize, now that we are a good 14 months old, that we are in need of structured activities every possible second.  Because after Ellie got up from her nap this afternoon, she didn't want to just sit and play with her toys, even though I really WISHED she could just sit and play with her toys (hence my futile attempt to drink a cup of tea.  Silly me, don't know what I was thinking there!).  And, I have to say, I busted my butt TRYING to come up with activities myself.  I pulled out some jello that we made over the weekend.  She enjoyed playing with it yesterday, but today, no dice.  It was too cold, and wiggly, and jello-y, I guess, so that didn't work.  Then I tried the crayons, and well, we've already been over that.  I tried really screechy and horrible nursery rhyme music and even prepped a tower of blocks for destruction.  Not.  Good.  Enough.

This was all after 3 pm, people, just for a frame of reference. 

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3....

Last week I chose to sit on the floor in the closet for this exercise.  But today I am enjoying the kitchen.  Jim is in our bedroom putting away the other loads of laundry that I managed to do earlier, and like I said, the hum and churn of the washer/dryer is actually quite comforting, though every few minutes (like just now, did you hear her?) Ellie lets out an unhappy squeal from her attached room.  I swear, every plate I washed and set in the drying rack, particularly a small ceramic tea bag holder (after Jim and I sat back down to enjoy the rest of our cold dinner), slid onto it's side, or crashed back INTO the sink on top of another ceramic plate, while just on the other side of the wall I was expecting my incredibly exhausted child to calmly drift off to sleep.  Did one of you set that up as a joke?  Am I on Candid Camera? 

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2...

"Um..." I open my eyes and find Jim standing inches from me, a mischievous grin on his face, "I was wondering if perhaps you were moving the fridge over to the other side of the room just then?  Or switching it with the washer?" 

It makes me laugh.  I slug him and haul myself up onto my feet.  "It was this piece!" I hold up our small ceramic tea bag holder, the main instigator of all the ruckus.  "Blame this piece!"

My countdown never made it to 1.  But my hand did make it to a glass of wine. 


So.....other mamas out there, I need some help.  What do you do with your toddlers on a January day?