Something happened tonight.
The outcome of which is either:
A) Serendipity at it’s finest
B) A way to ensure my credit card bill causes a minor stroke.
I had the perfect set up this afternoon to write Part 2 of The 12 Days of Sickmas – in hopes that it would be completed before Valentine’s Day: Lil Diva passed out on the return home from the gym and my mother-in-law (aka Grandma G) joined us as The Tackler’s Playmate.
Then I was sucked into a game of Chutes & Ladders, admiring imaginative play, getting him a snack, starting a load of laundry, and rereading my previous Sickmas post to see where I’d left off.
By the time I finally started the writing portion of the blog, I had an entire thirty minutes before Lil Diva decided to wake up.
Not enough time.
As the afternoon wore on, my mother-in-law claimed exhaustion and wished to return home.
This presented a small dilemma:
- My mother-in-law does not drive because of vision issues. She does not even own a car anymore.
- She normally walks the three blocks to our house – but she hates the cold.
- It was maybe 40 degrees outside, but very windy – too cold for her former Tuscan and now Texas blood.
- I needed to drive her home.
- Which meant corralling the chaos kids, strapping on shoes, and wrapping them in winter coats – a good twenty minute process thanks to: a dirty diaper, more food demands, and the Tackler’s attempt to go commando following a potty break.
By now, we were about an hour from dinner time.
The dinner plan: dine out for Tex-Mex where kids eat free on Wednesdays.
The goal: once bundled up DO NOT return home to possible metabolic meltdowns and sibling strife.
My idea: I would drop off my mother-in-law and head to my favorite kid consignment shop to pass the time – conveniently located in a strip mall a tiny walk from the restaurant.
The execution: Flawless. The store had recently moved into a space three times its former size and the kids were ecstatic to run around and play with the various toys. They even allowed me to browse the clothing – I buy about 80% of my children’s outfits used.
At first, I was too busy taking in the new store layout. Then I saw It: Exactly What I’d Been Looking For.
An angelic chorus sung theme music in the background as an odd glow highlighted the behemoth contraption before me.
Jaw agape, I circled the thick metallic bed frame as I performed mental calculations on precisely how it would fit into The Tackler’s rather small room.
He didn’t need any other furniture… right? Just The Bed.
The Tacker, curious as to what had grabbed my attention, spotted the bed and immediately tested its various features.
As he verified the slickness of the slide, the sales lady from behind me said, “Could you please not have him climb on that, it’s already sold.”
My elation popped like a balloon grasped in Lil Diva’s sharp hands.
SOLD? How could they have already sold the perfect bed for The Tackler??
In June 2010, the Tackler transitioned from the Fabulous Firetruck Toddler Bed (that he’d used since he’d turned 18 months old), to a twin mattress…. on the floor. Sure we have a frame and box springs for it, but initially I worried the Restless Roller would do just that in his sleep and plummet to the ground.
I can’t even count the number of times I’ve found him asleep, top half on the bed, bottom half on the carpet – as if passed out in mid-play.
Seven months later, he’s still sleeping on the mattress…. on the floor. We’ve searched multiple bed stores, but nothing came remotely close to what we were looking for.
Honestly, why is it so hard to find a bed that:
- Is a bunk bed.
- Is very sturdy and likely to withstand repeated abuse.
- Will not cause splinters.
- Has high enough rails The Tackler cannot roll out of bed and plummet to the ground while still asleep.
- Discourages jumping from the top bunk by almost four year olds who believe they are flying Space Rangers.
- Fits in his room.
- Costs less than a semester of college – at least what tuition was when I was in college.
It’s not like I wanted it to be super fancy and change its own sheets or have a Son Is About to Pee the Bed Alert.
And now, after countless searching, The Bed I’ve Been Looking For is right before me – in a store that never previously sold beds because they lacked the space to do so.
And it was SOLD???
Dejected, I pried The Tackler away from The Bed and continued the search for clothes.
Thirty minutes passed as I awaited the arrival of CG before we went eat dinner and the children continued to explore the Toys That Could Be Ours if You’d Just Buy Them for Us.
As I dutifully exclaimed over the coolness of Mack the Truck from Cars yet again, I overheard an employee get off the phone. They turned to their co-worker, and spoke the magical words.
“They aren’t going to buy the bed. It won’t fit into their son’s room. The slide would be out the door.”
And just like that, Serendipity came into play.
They don’t do “holds” in this store. No Wait Lists. If you’re there, you can buy it. If you want something in the future, you have to be in the store to buy it.
I rarely ever run errands or shop with the kids before dinner. They are closed after we finish dinner.
I certainly hadn’t expected to find a bed at this store. Until I’d driven there, I’d forgotten they were even moving, and initially drove to the old location – about 100 feet away from the new one.
I immediately turned to them and said, “I’m pretty sure we want it then. I just have to get my husband’s approval.”
I anxiously waited for CG, curious to see if he’d sense what I did about The Bed or laugh in my face over the idea that any bed could contain The Tackler and his WWF Tendencies.
Finally, he walked in the door – his presence belatedly observed by his children who were still in the throws of “New toy! New toy!” play.
I beckoned him my way. “Come here honey, there’s something you need to see.”
Curious, he strode forward, Lil Diva perched happily in her daddy’s arms.
“What do you think of this bed…. for The Tackler?” I asked.
He perused the various angles, calculating possible Tackler jumping trajectories and likelihood of breakage then turned to me. “That’s the most awesome bed. Ever.”
Relief that I wasn’t crazy surged through me as a grin lit my face. “I know. It’s perfect for him, isn’t it?”
He pointed at the tag I’d initially missed upon my first spotting. “It’s already sold though.”
My grin widened. “Not anymore. Not unless it’s to us……”
Twenty minutes later – following discussions of possible delivery scenarios, when we’d pick it up, and the gratuitous 24 hour period for buyer’s remorse (or the possibility that it wouldn’t fit after all), my credit card was swiped as I cringed in thought of my next bill – still laden with Christmas and vacation charges.
Another possibility occurred to me.
Maybe Serendipity had a devilish side. Or a deal with my credit card company.
What do you think?