Send Me to the Nuthouse, Already
My brain must be full of Skittles. Doesn't that sound frightening? I copied it from a radio DJ who used it this morning to describe the "Octomom." Now, seriously, we all know that woman is teetering on the brink of insanity, if she isn't already there. I think I may be about to join her.
M and J outgrew their bikes quite awhile ago, and I've been meaning to get them new ones. However, the money for it just never quite materialized, so I waited for my sister's neighborhood yard sale. It's a gigantic event in a neighborhood packed to the brim with young yuppies + children, so usually there are tons of things like nice bikes. Camie went on a treasure hunt to find something for my kids as well as her son Bryson, but struck out. As luck would have it, apparently everyone sold their bikes off last year.
So today I had to go up to Mesa for a few errands so I decided to check out the thrift stores. Main Street Mesa is about 400 miles long and is just littered with inviting places like payday loan shops, drive-thru liquor stores, pawn shops and thrift stores. Into this unfamiliar wonderland I toted my four children. At the first couple of stops my mother was there; she stayed in the car with B and K while I trooped in and out of shops looking for the ever-elusive bikes. We did hit paydirt at the first Goodwill, finding a reasonably-priced, decent bike for M. But J was just so sad....
My mom had to take off to go to an appointment and at first my intention was to go straight to the bank and then home. But I felt so bad for J, and we already were in the land of secondhand surprises, so I decided to risk a few more stops.
OH. MY.
It could have been much worse-- there were no broken ceramic figurines or stained glass lamps, and the two times I lost children I quickly found them again. But it was not a pleasant experience by any means. Everyone was hungry and impatient by the end. The worst part was that by the third stop all three children plus mommy had to pee. I loathe public bathrooms in general, but thrift store bathrooms inspire some of my greatest revulsion. In my desperation I stopped at a Taco Bell, thinking I could kill two birds with one stone: unhealthy but kid-pleasing dinner plus a potty break. But as my steadily-worsening luck would have it, someone had made her new home in the ladies' room. (I'm guessing, anyway, since she never came out the whole time we were there.) But if there's one line I won't ever cross, it is to use a men's public restroom. Sorry. Can't do that.
I held it the whole hour-long drive home.
And the worst part is, after all that, we never did find a bike for J.
M and J outgrew their bikes quite awhile ago, and I've been meaning to get them new ones. However, the money for it just never quite materialized, so I waited for my sister's neighborhood yard sale. It's a gigantic event in a neighborhood packed to the brim with young yuppies + children, so usually there are tons of things like nice bikes. Camie went on a treasure hunt to find something for my kids as well as her son Bryson, but struck out. As luck would have it, apparently everyone sold their bikes off last year.
So today I had to go up to Mesa for a few errands so I decided to check out the thrift stores. Main Street Mesa is about 400 miles long and is just littered with inviting places like payday loan shops, drive-thru liquor stores, pawn shops and thrift stores. Into this unfamiliar wonderland I toted my four children. At the first couple of stops my mother was there; she stayed in the car with B and K while I trooped in and out of shops looking for the ever-elusive bikes. We did hit paydirt at the first Goodwill, finding a reasonably-priced, decent bike for M. But J was just so sad....
My mom had to take off to go to an appointment and at first my intention was to go straight to the bank and then home. But I felt so bad for J, and we already were in the land of secondhand surprises, so I decided to risk a few more stops.
OH. MY.
It could have been much worse-- there were no broken ceramic figurines or stained glass lamps, and the two times I lost children I quickly found them again. But it was not a pleasant experience by any means. Everyone was hungry and impatient by the end. The worst part was that by the third stop all three children plus mommy had to pee. I loathe public bathrooms in general, but thrift store bathrooms inspire some of my greatest revulsion. In my desperation I stopped at a Taco Bell, thinking I could kill two birds with one stone: unhealthy but kid-pleasing dinner plus a potty break. But as my steadily-worsening luck would have it, someone had made her new home in the ladies' room. (I'm guessing, anyway, since she never came out the whole time we were there.) But if there's one line I won't ever cross, it is to use a men's public restroom. Sorry. Can't do that.
I held it the whole hour-long drive home.
And the worst part is, after all that, we never did find a bike for J.
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