As I was browsing around the Container Store, my son got sick of my complaining about the high prices they charge for crib mattresses. I was so annoyed with what I was seeing, and I had to stop myself from screaming at the cashier. I’m really not sure why I got so angry, maybe it was the way she was looking at me and how I was dressed. I was wearing black dress pants and a white blouse, which is not my usual outfit for a shopping trip. I was also carrying a baby, which makes it a bit harder to walk and carry a bag.
What if I told you that your mother just got a new job and moved to another state? What if she was at her new office for the first time and had to give a presentation? What if she forgot to bring a USB, a USB cord, and a piece of paper? What if she got in a fight with her boyfriend? What if she went to a Container Store and forgot to get a USB? What if she broke down sobbing and told her co-workers that she’d just had a baby? What if she became enraged at her boyfriend for not taking his shower on time? What if she yelled at a delivery person to get her exactly what she ordered? What if the guy had a new mommy problem and threw a fit
I am not a prude or a judgmental person. I have been on a lot of play dates, spend a lot of time on playgrounds, and, to be honest, I am a mother. I understand that motherhood is a lot of work, but there are times when I just want to throw in the towel and ask my husband to take me out for a nice dinner. The Container Store is a store that I really like. I used to go there all the time when I was pregnant and had to lug around a lot of baby equipment. The store has a lot of cool and unusual items, like a set of nesting storage containers. They also have cribs, strollers, and all the other baby things that you need
It all began with a plan to take the family to Walnut Creek for a morning excursion from Berkeley. Walnut Creek is approximately a 20-minute trip from my home, but it seems much longer since it is “through the tunnel.” We planned to combine a trip to the Container Store with a stop to the Lindsay Wildlife Museum. If I do say so myself, it’s a great strategy. A little little for them, a little something for us.
However, it was not to be. Holden very quickly rejected the wildlife museum (Why? I’m not sure. The child despises new experiences and must be persuaded to leave his Legos at home on weekends. Ugh.). We arrived to the Container Store at 10 a.m. on a wet Sunday morning after checking the hours for our locations.
However, the museum did not open until 10 a.m. The Container Store is not one of them. Frak.
We’d already driven a long way. What should I do? Alec, my rookie father, and I surveyed our surroundings and devised a strategy. We passed the time in Barnes & Noble reading books and playing at the train table, and we agreed on a bribe of Starbucks hot chocolate if we all behaved well at the Container Store later.
Now, let’s go on.
At 10:55 p.m., we left the bookshop and returned to the Container Store at 11:03 p.m. I walked up to the Elfa department to make my presence known. In my fantasy, all I had to say was, “We’re finally here to arrange our closets,” and they’d load up my vehicle with the ideal system (including the color-coordinated clothes).
Nope. We were too late at 11:03 p.m. Other clients were being served by the two Elfa organizers. What the hell is going on here? We were allowed to explore for a half hour while we waited with this handy pager.
No, he didn’t. And it was the last straw for me. The lengthy morning in the suburbs was the icing on the cake of my “two-week home renovation” project, which lasted through Thanksgiving, Real Hannukah, Christmas, New Years, Rescheduled Hannukah, and nearly into Valentine’s Day. Mommy had finally lost her cool at that point.
Something did really crack. The pager was thrown across the shop by me. I stormed out, furious. I left my own crying children for their (wonderful and loving) father to pick up. I began slamming my massive umbrella against the pavement — and then the shopping trolleys — until I heard something break. What was it, exactly? It couldn’t have been my fury; it’s long since passed! It was a portion of my umbrella, oh no.
Milo was screaming and flames were still shooting out of my nostrils as the four of us marched off to the vehicle.
Then I took a look at the Starbucks. Wouldn’t a snack at 11:15 make us all feel a bit better? Even if we were acting badly, a cup of chocolate could help us relax.
As I sat there nursing my wounds and drinking my chocolaty beverage, it dawned to me that if we had kept the pager, we would have been halfway through by now. Instead, we had spent the most of our morning NOT putting up our new closet, going on a nice trip, or playing with our Legos at home. This is a triple frak.
My spouse did something very courageous at that time. He returned to the room. He apologized and re-entered our names on the list. I put my raincoat hood up and walked back in, mortified at my own conduct. We designed our office closet as quickly as we could with our children sprawled on the floor, simply to get out of there with a semblance of dignity and some organizing materials.
It was all my fault. Yes, they told I’d have to return at 5 p.m. to pick up the materials once we’d made all of our decisions. I didn’t pick up my family. And I wore my hood the whole time.
Well, that was fun, wasn’t it? I’m just going to leave these little jabs here; perfectly timed, I promise. You can’t pin me down, you can’t pin me down! The Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store, the Container Store,. Read more about moms with intrusive thoughts and let us know what you think.
This article broadly covered the following related topics:
- irrational fear of child getting hurt
- always worried something is wrong with baby
- postpartum ocd sexually intrusive thoughts
- moms with intrusive thoughts
- constant worry about my baby