Read the Signs

Ever have one of those days when the universe is trying to tell you not to proceed, but you disregard the warning signs and go ahead anyhow?

I have been on a quest for the perfect double stroller, which means it must allow the boys to face each other, and fit into my vehicle when folded.  I’ve been through them all (with little exception) and Monday I was going to check out a Peg Perego Duette that was listed on Craigslist.  It was up in Coquitlam, BC, so about 45 minutes from my house.I had to pick up Calista from school, so the plan was to do that, then stop by Skip’s work to get a permission slip to travel out of the country with the kids without him, and go on my merry way.

I get to Skip’s work, and as I am pulling Calista’s water bottle out of the diaper bag, Skip asks why it’s all wet.  It seems the lid was not on the bottle correctly, and the water went all in the bag, soaking the boys’ spare clothes to the point of me needing to wring out their socks in the parking lot.  No big deal, since I never need to use the change of clothes anyhow.  I laid the clothes out in the back of the Pacifica to dry and we headed for the border.

Sign #1 effectively ignored.

We are in line at the border and Ace and Nate wake up from their naps and start freaking out because they can see their milk but can’t reach them.  We are next in line for the crossing booth, and I quickly hand them their milks.  Just as I am about to move forward for my turn at the border, I see Ace go to drink from his cup and watch as the milk pours out from the base of the lid because it, too, was not on properly.

I take the cup from Ace (who begins to scream) and head to the border agent.  We pass through and pull over at the information center so I can try to clean up Ace.  Of course I have no spare clothes for him, since they are all sopping wet from mishap number one, so I take his bib and try to soak the milk as best I can, but he’s just drenched.  Of course, rice milk gets super sticky as it dries, too.  We continue on our journey.

Sign #2 blatantly ignored.

Now we’re in Canada, passing into the Vancouver area, and stupid me didn’t consider rush hour traffic.  I use my GPS to re-route through back roads, and we’re now about 45 minutes late getting to the woman’s house, and my cell phone conveniently has no service in Canada.

Sign #3 blissfully ignored.

I’m supposed to stop at a bank machine so I can actually buy the stroller should I like it, but can’t find one, the boys are screaming, Calista is whining, Ace is completely sticky, it’s hot out, and Nate has pooped his pants.  Excellent.

How many signs was that?  I’ve lost count.

We finally get to the house and the woman is so kind.  She lets the kids run wild in her beautiful home as I change Nate’s pants and then check out the stroller.  I LOVE this stroller.  The boys LOVE this stroller.  Pure bliss.  I head out to the Pacifica with it.

This monstrosity comes apart in three pieces for folding, and I can’t manage to fit it all in the Pacifica in any way that would be reasonable.  I COULD stack it all up in there, but Calista would be squished, and there would be no room for anything else.  After spending an hour at this woman’s house, changing diapers, trying the stroller, and trying to get the stroller in my vehicle, I have to pass on the sale.  Perhaps had I acknowledged the signs along the way, I never would have gotten that far, but I’m a little on the stubborn side.

We hauled ourselves home and poor Ace finally got some dry clothes.  Sans stroller.

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