Yesterday I ordered our new double stroller and as it happens I could collect it in store the same day. Bonus. Only problem is, none of the stores near us would be able to have it ready for collection. The only ‘nearby‘ available store was a quite a drive, to where we used to live. ‘Sod it’, needs must and all that. I worked the timings out perfectly, naps on the way *praying no toddler travel sickness. We had planned to eat at my in-laws that evening, again, timing it all perfectly. Even a visit to the supermarket on the way. The supermarket visit, slight disaster, hilarious according to others. I’ll save that for another day, I’m still recovering.
The drive there went swimmingly. I felt smug. No crying children, no sick, no continuous stops to hold the baby only to realise she doesn’t want to be held! Arrive at the store, with my order number and a smile from ear to ear. Things like this make me really excited. I know I’m not the only parent that gets excited about a new purchase such as a stroller, also a dishwasher now. High five to that! So, I’m at the counter and they have no order number for the stroller. I thought ‘bloody typical, it always goes wrong if I’ve had a hand in it’. Toddler is now running riot around Argos. While I’m mid-speech with the shop-assistant I have to occasionally shout ‘don’t touch that, come here please, I have biscuits!‘. At one point I forgot to tone down my voice when I carried on the conversation and continued to shout at the shop-assistant, a piece of me died inside. Then guess what? I was in the wrong store. Now that was funny, that was just bloody hilarious. I’m hysterically laughing in my head. So I’ve just suffered through the traffic, battled with my old buggy, to walk the 10 steps into the shop while the toddler is taking advantage of every unmanned toy. And I needn’t have bothered. Because it was the wrong shitting shop anyway.
I take ownership of this. Unfortunately I have no-one to blame here, but myself. I forgot this city were lucky enough to have two Argos stores and I chose to drive to the furthest one away. On the other side of the city, through the worst part of traffic. When I remember my journey in, I actually drive past the correct Argos. Right past it.
Hanging my head in shame *embarrassment, I leave and head to the in-laws ‘we can pick it up on the way home’ everyone says. If I’m honest I’m only really annoyed because I wanted to play with the new stroller *sulks.
It’s time to leave to pick up the stroller, we avoid all traffic and head to the correct Argos. Mr Firstooth appears with the big box and I’m excited to test it, because surely one child will refuse to sleep tonight. As we leave Argos and start our lengthy journey home. I have that smug feeling again. Baby is sleeping and toddler is singing with me to music. Someone slap me when I feel smug, it ruins everything. I’m driving away, the toddler and I are singing, he’s demonstrating his best car seat dance moves. Impressive. (Just going to point out Mr Firstooth is driving separately as he met us after he had finished work, luckily) Toddler decides he’s bored of being in the car and starts the whinge and arch his back. Does he feel sick? Do I pull over? We’re so close, but so far. Shit, what do I do? Carry on. He whinges intermittently between his dancing and singing. Until we get about fifteen minutes from home. Full blown freak out alert. I’m refusing to stop because we’re so close. Baby is awake. Baby is now crying. I turn the music up to calm them down *(drown out the noise). Now all of a sudden, at every. Single. Turning. A car will hastily pull out on me like they’re about to race off from a subsequent Police chase. But no, pulls out like their life depends on it, then continues to drive 25mph. I’m not exaggerating. Why now? Why me? Screaming in my head along with hysterical laughter. Car then turns off and frees me. Until at the next turning another car did the exact same. You just couldn’t make this stuff up. I’m stuck behind a mock of the phrase ‘Sunday driver’ while both children are screaming and crying to a pitch close to ear-drum bursting.
We finally arrive home and I rush around getting all children out and calming them with lots of cuddles and knee-bouncing. I realise I’m desperate for the loo now. Kids are hastily handed over to Mr Firstooth while I rush inside. Only to find a huge pile of cat sick sitting there. Cake is now officially iced. I just want to say, our cat, in the 3 years she’s resided with us, has never been sick. Holds head in hands.
The rest of the evening (after children both went to sleep like angels) needless to say, was spent cleaning the cat sick and playing with our new stroller. All worth it. I even did a test run with teddies.