Month 6: Pillow talk

I just wanted some used Pottery Barn pillows. That's all.

We're moving to a new house next week. I cannot wait to have more space and move into our dream house, but I am also painfully aware of moving amnesia. You totally forget exactly how much CRAP there is to do when you move. Add in a six month old, and just wheel me to the insane asylum.  

A couple of days ago, a lady posted some beautiful outdoor pillows for sale on a yard sale Facebook group. 

Even though those are nowhere to be found on my list of 47394 things I truly NEED to buy for the new house, I couldn't let them go. We have this great outdoor space at the new house with an outdoor fireplace on the back porch. I needed those pillows. 

I arranged to meet the lady's husband to grab the pillows during the perfect window Friday around nap time and meal time and getting ready for work and the algorithm all parents to small children seem to understand but everyone else forgets. 

I had arranged for the perfect amount of time to stop by the ATM so I could get the right amount of cash and meet him by 11:45. 

I pull up to the ATM and the armed money guards are blocking my way. I ask how long they will be. 20 minutes. (This is pre-shower. I look homeless and sleep deprived, so they said this clutching their holsters...step away crazy lady...) 

Okay, whatever. I'll run by a fast food restaurant to break the $100 bill I have. (Someone bought some furniture from me and paid in $100's, I'm not a bookie.) 

First stop, Burger King. The line is 12 deep. John Michael usually whines if the car is still that long. 

Nope. I have 16 minutes until I need to meet Pottery Barn man. 

Taco Bell is across the street. Cheesy Gordita Crunch it is. 

Wait in drive-thru line. Give them my $100, which at that moment, I realize seems sketchy. They get a manager to see if they can make change. I tell the poor kid working the window, it's not fake, I'm just trying to buy some Pottery Barn pillows, which in hindsight, since I looked homeless and was paying for a single taco with a $100 bill, wasn't my best story. 

"I'm sorry ma'am, we can't take this." 

Okay, yes, that does seem like a wise business practice. At least I have my taco. 

I text Pottery Barn man to let him know I'll be late. He needs to be at a meeting by noon. Well, that's reasonable. I have 8 minutes to get cash and meet him before noon, or else, I have to figure out another meeting time and do this whole song and dance again....

But again, the pillows. 

I go to a second ATM, at this point, willing to pay the extra fee. It's out of order. At this point, I am PAINFULLY aware I should have just gone inside somewhere, looking homeless, lugging the baby in and out of the car, to get change. 

I text him again to let him know I'm hurrying to find change. 

I go BACK to the original bank, because surely the guards are gone by then. Nope. 

John Michael is starting to whine, and I can't reach any of his toys, so I wad up my empty Taco Bell bag and hand it to him. Mom of the year? Innovator of the year? I don't know which, but it HAS to be one. 

I'm at the bank contemplating going inside, and Pottery Barn man says he has change.

Sweet. Lord. Why. Didn't. I. Text. Him. To. Ask. That. Half. An. Hour. Ago. 

Meet him two minutes after 12. Get the pillows. They were worth it. 

Soooo, yeah. That's sort of my best analogy for how motherhood is going. SO worth it, but utter chaos along the way. 

And, here's something I've learned. All of us are looking at everyone else wondering how everyone has it so together and figured out? Meanwhile, we're all running around giving our kids paper bags to play with. 

So, to all the moms out there---whose dishwashers look like this...

getting through each day on coffee, wine, and the occasional satisfaction of a Pottery Barn pillow victory...



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