Saturday, November 20, 2010

Not Today

Going to Ikea on a Saturday isn't something I usually care to attempt with a toddler and a baby but since my mom wanted to have a little day out shopping, I managed to get the kids dressed and fed and diapers changed and loaded in the van and at Ikea by 10:30am despite being up every 45 minutes to feed Lincoln last night. 

As I drove to Ikea I was dreading a little that I would have to spend the day listening to my mom whine and complain and cry about how awful and annoying and terrible my dad is.  Not that she's wrong - I'm just really sick of hearing about it.

When I was walking towards the entrance of Ikea I soon realized that I wouldn't have to hear about my dad all day from my mom because he was with her. 

Normally... whatever. I don't let him get to me.  Or her for that matter.  But today?  Today I'm tired and my patience is low and I'm still thinking about how to dry the duvet on my bed that Ruby poured an entire bottle of water on.  And the first thing out of my dad's mouth is how Ruby should be wearing a hat in this weather. 

Not today, Dad.

And then as I look at my mom she rolls her eyes in the direction of my dad.

Not today, Mom.

And then for some reason my parents think that this is going to be an all day event in Ikea and they are taking their sweet mother fucking time looking at every single thing and taking forever to make a decision on whether to purchase one package of spice jars or two.  They seem to have forgotten that I am on a limited budget as far as time goes and before long both kids are going to need to eat and nap and it will get ugly if they don't. 

My mom asks why I seem to be in such a hurry.  I remind her of the kids.  Oh yeah.

So she tries to go faster but my dad is still lagging.  Taking out his spectacles to read what scent this package of tea light candles is. 

They're red.  It's Christmas time.  Probably cranberry or cinnamon.  Stick your nose in and have a sniff.  Move along. 

There are the typical, "See what I have to deal with".  And "Ugghhhh". And "I feel like I'm being smothered, why can't I have a day out by myself." from my mom. 

I don't know mom.  But guess what?  Not today.

My dad offers to buy me breakfast because it's only .99 cents.  Not today, Dad.

My one purpose for going there was to find a wooden table and chair set for Ruby and Lincoln for Christmas.  The only one I liked was pretty beaten up which means it would end up that way in my house too.  No big deal. I'll find a set somewhere else.

But my dad has to come over and say, "What about that table?" I say, "no".  He points to another one (with giant pink chairs and bright green table." I say, "I'd rather have something that doesn't look like a circus puked in my kitchen".  He rolls his eyes.  "What about that one..." I explain that while I can clearly see ALL the tables and chairs, none are what I want so pointing to each different one doesn't really help me.  My dad explains to me that the one I like is only beat up because it is on display.  I have to explain to him that the wood it is made of is too soft and it would eventually get destroyed in my house too.  Thanks for ALL your advice though.

He won't leave Ruby alone.  He's over the top with her.  He's pushing her in an Ikea cart and spinning her and letting the cart go.  I allow it once.  Twice.  I tell him to STOP when he narrowly misses some other shoppers and the cart crashes into a display.  He whispers something to Ruby about Mommy being mean or wrecking their fun or something.  For fuck sakes not today, Dad!

I tell them privately about Ruby dumping water on my bed.  He brings it up to her and asks her about it, trying to shame her.  I tell him we don't do that.  He asks, does she not need some scolding for it? I explain that the scolding was done when the act of dumping water was done.  Then we move on.  We don't talk about it in front of her and we don't keep bringing it up to her.  We don't want her to think it's cool so she might think about doing it again, nor do we want her to be made to feel bad repeatedly after it's long over.  He says sarcastically, "Oh, that's a good way to handle it" and rolls his eyes. Because, you know, he's an expert on raising kids?  He certainly wasn't involved in raising any...

So for the love of God... not today, Dad.

We get to the checkout and I do the self serve thing because it's super quick and I just want to escape.  My mom chooses the longest/slowest lineup because she "doesn't know how the self serve thing works".  So I wait.  And I wait.  And I wait.

And my dad offers to buy me "lunch" because he can get two hotdogs for $1.  I decline. He sits and eats them himself.  While I wait.

I tell them it was nice seeing them and bye-bye but they want to walk me to my van.  They kindly help me load the kids up while being obnoxious with poor Ruby who just wants to go home to bed (she actually asked to go night-night).  My mom says she would like us all to go for coffee somewhere.... 

Not today, Mom.

I am clearly in no position nor mood to sit in a coffee shop with the two of them who so obviously hate each other, while Ruby is exhausted and struggling to behave herself and Lincoln who has pooped in his diaper and is 15 minutes away from having a screaming fit because he needs to be breastfed - which I do not want to do in a coffee shop. 

Uhhh, not today.

Instead.  I said goodbye and cut the day short and headed home where I ate too much lunch because I was feeling emotional and frustrated and tired and if I didn't stuff food in my mouth, I would be crying instead. 

Today is not my day.

No, not today.

No comments: