Furniture Run

Saturday, on a whim, La, Dr P and I made a colossal step that could have either strengthened or weakened our new alliance as a family.

We went to Ikea together.

Dr P had never been there before, so I crossed my fingers that we wouldn't find him wedged between a RAND rug and a HENSVIK mirror after twenty minutes in the store, sucking his thumb and rocking back and forth.

He did very well! Totally chill. Unlike a certain someone (me) the first time she stepped foot inside an Ikea. The experience involved that person (me) flopping dramatically onto an ANEBODA bed and crying actual tears of anger and resentment for all things Scandinavian. And that list included my uber-organized sister who came, like, all "prepared" and stuff ... with a list and a map and all that ridiculous garbage.

Gosh. The nerve.



All subsequent visits have been successful, and have not involved any tears or dramatic floppery. They HAVE however involved lists. They make all the difference.

The reason Dr P, La and I ventured all the way to Atlanta at 2pm on a Saturday was due to this heinous atrocity:



This is our guest bedroom. Where my mother will sleep for nine nights, starting this Wednesday. That's TOMORROW. Oh hell.

We have no dresser, so this room is our dresser. (Except it's not really our dresser because all of the crap in that room is mine.) (Somehow Dr P has kept all of his belongings in nice, neat, color-coded piles that line one wall in our room.) (I know. Freakazoid.)

Even when we do purchase a dresser, my half of it will still look like this picture when you open the drawers. But you won't know that because you won't come into my house and open my drawers. People never do that! That's why dressers are so brilliant! And so necessary!

And that's why we went to Ikea. To get a dresser. To hide my clutter, amen.

Here's the one we picked out.

We ended up getting a few more things that were on our "list." We picked up a shelving unit, magenta towels and woven baskets for La's bathroom.



We grabbed some glass table lamps and a chevron-patterned rug for the living room:



We also got a striped rug and some linen curtains for the dining room. I've been obsessed with the black-and-white RAND rug ever since I saw it on a design blog a couple of years ago. And now it's in my home. Yay!



The table in our dining room is from the 1940s and used to belong to my Grandma Lois. She used it as a kids' craft table in her basement while my mom and her siblings were growing up. When my parents got married and moved into their first place together, it was passed down to them. My dad removed all the dried paint and crayon from the table and refinished it.

My siblings and I grew up eating every meal at this table. My mom asked me a few months ago if I wanted it and I immediately claimed it. I love it! It's probably in need of another refinishing, but I actually kind of like it all torn up and mangy-looking. It has character!

Now all we need are two of these chairs for the ends. They didn't have them at Ikea. Dang.

One thing that I'm SO happy we bought that wasn't on "the list" was this chest of drawers that is functioning as an end-table in the living room.



I first discovered this chest when my friend Melissa and I went to Ikea a few months ago with our kiddos (THAT was an adventure). She bought a version of this chest for her bedroom and after she set it up, I knew I had to have one someday.

It's Dr P's and my favorite thing we bought that day, and it wasn't even on The List. We're such rebels.

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So, remember how the whole reason we went to Ikea was because we needed a dresser? Because the guest bedroom looks like a junk yard? And because my mother has to sleep in there TOMORROW?

Well. That dresser came in TWO boxes. We only grabbed ONE box.

We have a dresser frame. No drawers. Which are the most crucial elements when you're in desperate need of concealing a gigantic mess.

My question is (not that I'm casting blame or anything), why in the heck would Ikea let us leave that store with only one dresser box? Shouldn't their computer system know these things? There should be a flashing red light during checkout that activates if you only scan one of two boxes, and a computerized voice that says, "Go get the other box you morons!"

Anyway, my lovely, patient mother and I may be taking a little six-hour round-trip drive to Atlanta on Thursday. I'm sure she won't mind. It'll be for her own good.