Saturday, September 5, 2009

IKEA vs. The Deck (round one)

Peter and David are laughing their asses off because some sexy Alpha male with a hairy rack had just rocketed them towards some goofy looking blonde with a camera at warp speed with no breaks. Papa is laughing his ass off because he was successfully able to avoid building a deck in our apartment by buying a bunch of really big IKEA shelving units. Angie should be happy just knowing the disaster and chaos she avoided by not giving me the task of building something complicated like a deck. Angie rarely does what she should, though. Instead, she was still pouting, so I had to try and run her over with a shopping cart, using my children as human shields, of course.

Why does Angie need a deck? She doesn't, actually; a better question would be why does Angie think she needs a deck? It all boils down to a three-month freak-out festival that Angie kicked off about....oh,...three months ago. If you don't ask Angie for her side of my truth, it went something like this.

'I got the job! I got the job! You're the hottest husband to ever live! I got the job!'

'That's great. How much will you make?'

'I don't know.'

'How many hours will you work?'

'I, uh...I didn't think to ask.'

'Do they provide daycare?'

'Mmmm...those are all very interesting questions, but can we just focus on the deck for a second.'

'The what?'

'Don't you listen to anything I tell you?'

'You mean like how I asked you to find out how much you would be making, how many hours you would be working and whether or not they provide daycare? No, I guess I don't. I'm sorry, how stupid of me. What deck?'

'What deck? WHAT DECK??!! Aaaarrrgghh! What is wrong with you? Have you been drinking?'

'No, but I'm thinking about starting now.'

We have 'high' ceilings, which means you could technically cut the room in half and make two floors. Angie's brilliant plan was to build a loft in Tom's room so that she could have a great big teacher's playhouse in the sky for all of her school shit that's been collecting dust in the basement for the last year. Who's the one that's been drinking?

When confronted with nonsensical nagging, I tend to 'duck and move' and generally try to avoid the source. This is not easy when the source is the woman that you've married and now lives with you, but somehow I managed for two months, three weeks and six days. On the seventh day, all hell broke loose.

'Nag the nag haven't you nagged anynag about the nagging deck?'

'Um, Charlie Brown called - he wants his teacher back.'

'That is not naggin' funny, nag it! I am so nagged with you right now. You nag what? Nag it! I don't even wanna nag about it anynag. I'm going to the naggin store and I'm going to nagging buy a big nagging closet and you're going to nag it for me.'

'Honey, you're not making sense again; do you want to breathe into a paper bag or something?'

'Nag your nag-hole. Let's go, bring your credit card.'

So that's the long version of how we ended up at IKEA on this fine Saturday morning. And, unless you're the naggy type, you will completely understand why I was SO happy to be shopping at IKEA and not strapping on the tool belt that I don't own and probably never will.

In our (ha, ha --> Angie's) panicky rush to get to the store and buy a deck substitute, we somehow forgot to feed the boys. We also forgot to bring baby food, but IKEA is like some magical wonderland with mystical sounding furniture names and free baby food. Let me repeat that for fellow poor saps out there with babies - they give away FREE baby food. Make sure to bring your own lid and you can bring the jar home with you.

IKEA must be owned by a couple of parents that were completely fed up with all the not kid-friendly stores. In the cafeteria, they had a bar where you could eat and instead of liquor and a bartender, they had a play area where you could watch over your kids as you eat and wish that there was really a bartender on-call.

After watching the kids squish each other like bugs, we somehow lost our appetite and decided to take the kids to the store playground, another great IKEA perk that helps alleviate the credit card pains.

In case you forgot, David had his cast removed yesterday. In case you're really forgetful, he broke his leg in a pool of plastic balls at an indoor playground. At IKEA, they also have a pool of plastic balls, so Angie and I were slightly reluctant to allow David to join Peter.

'David, if we let you....hey! look at me when I'm talking to you...if we let you in there, you have to promise NOT to...look at can NOT jump in the plastic balls. You can go in the pool, but you can't...LOOK at can NOT jump in. Okay?'

'Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah - I go now? - yeah, yeah, uh-huh, yeah, sure. I go now, okay?'

'No, no, no...wait a minute. Repeat what we just said.'

'That I no go BOOM in the big pool, okay? I sit and go no BOOM, okay?'

'Okay. Peter - listen, you're in charge. Make sure David doesn't jump in the balls. Have fun, guys.'

At the indoor playground at IKEA, there is a big glass window so that you can spy on your kids as they run around. Peter knew this and came running up to give us a knock goodbye.

If you look in the background you will see David knee-deep in the ball pit. What you can't tell from this still photograph is that 'lightning-speed Davey' went streaking as fast as he could from the drop-off point to the pool of balls and jumped as high as he possibly could to land in the pit on his freshly healed foot.

David climbed out crying and ran to Peter for comfort. It was then that Davey realized that we had witnessed what was almost the second-breaking of his foot, which now hurt, for some strange reason. Peter panicked before we could even blame him for shucking his task of making sure that David didn't do what David did. It wasn't me, I didn't do, I told him to stop, my cat pushed him, it wasn't me - I am so sorrrrryyy!!

Okay, whatever. Almost every IKEA trip so far has ended in tears, whining and nagging. If it wasn't my wallet, it was one, two, or three of the kids, and more often than not, Angie joined in.

'You got the beige one, right? You didn't get the black one, 'cause the black nag would just nag horrible next to the brown nag. Hey! Are you rolling your nags at me?'

As cute as Angie can be, sometimes you just have to throw her in the trunk and crank up the speakers in the back.

I thought that Angie loved the ride and rather enoyed ducking every time I shouted 'POLICE'. Turns out, she didn't find it so amusing.

'Oh, verrrryyy funnnyy. If you ever nag me in the nag like that again, I'm going to naggin' nag you. Now get me the nag out of here and go nag my beautiful nag.
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: To play with those shopping carts.
David: When we ride on the shopping cart super-fast, zoom!

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When I didn't saw the tapir.
David: When I cried 'cause you was by the store and I miss you.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: When we play football.
David: Play with Peter Little Einstein's.

No comments:

Post a Comment