Does the title of this post seem redundant and ominous? It is…feel free to stop reading right
now if you would prefer not to relive the mistakes I have previously made. Or go ahead and read along and shake
your head at me thinking “WHY DOESN’T SHE LEARN!?!??” I did the same thing to myself on my way home. It wasn’t IKEA but it was an adventure
nonetheless…
I once again
found myself again in Toronto this
weekend with both kids and my dad and a full day to fill. Rob was watching soccer and Mia was
napping and I thought, “Hey, why don’t I give you a peaceful hour or so to
yourself and take my dad and Toby shopping at Loblaws”…
Is this starting to sound familiar?
Not to worry- this would be NOTHING like our last excursion
to IKEA. I am a well seasoned shopper
at the Loblaws at St Clair and Bathurst.
I know exactly where to park, where to drop dad and Toby off so they can
see me the ENTIRE TIME that I am shopping, and where to buy them coffee and a
muffin while they watch me. In
fact, the last time I shopped with them there happened to be free face painting
and cake. I don’t know what they
were celebrating but we all had a good time. The members of previous excursion who could remember such
were VERY keen to return.
And so I set out, loading an excited 6 year old and an eager
87 year old into my car; we were off for another great adventure with visions
of free cake and face painting dancing in our heads.
As soon as we got to Loblaws it was all wrong. Where was our favourite parking
spot? What happened to the little
bakery that sold coffee and muffins right at the entrance? And WORST of all…WHERE was the RAILING
that let people from the upper floor café WATCH the shoppers?!!? This was the most devastating
change. My ability to shop with my
crew hinged on the fact that they could both see me at all times. I enjoyed my false sense of freedom to
shop and roam around on the understanding that I would look up, smile, wave
enthusiastically and shout “HELLO UP THERE!” every time I put something into my
cart. Toby and dad would always
return an equally enthusiastic smile, wave and incoherent shout and then I
would carry on to the next item on my list. My railing of freedom had been replaced with a BRICK WALL,
painted a modern colour of brown and accessorized with a baby grand piano in
front of it. The smile, wave
and shop game came to a quick halt.
It was with a sense of horror and impending doom that I
suddenly realized WHY there had been free cake and face painting the last time
I was there.
THEY WERE CELEBRATING THEIR UPCOMING RENOVATIONS.
When your convoy consists of an 87 year old with dementia
and an anal 6 year old with an impeccable memory, changes do NOT work in your
favour.
I put on a cheerful face and tried to make the best of the
situation. No, they would not be
able to get muffins but there were CROISSANTS and COOKIES at this new bakery. And no, they could NOT watch me shop,
but there were lovely big windows so they could watch all of the action on St
Clair which (perhaps???) was more exciting than watching from above as I chose
bananas.
My suggestions were met with skepticism.
Maybe one of them would like to play the piano?
The skepticism was soon accompanied by a displeased arm
crossing.
I left the two of them sitting by the big windows and
promised to come back with some sort of baked delicacy shortly. I decided my best approach was to do a
staggered shop. (Was this even
allowed?!?!) I grabbed a cart and
did a mad dash through the produce section. I looked like a crazy woman, grabbing fruits and vegetables,
throwing them into the cart un-bagged, and unexamined. I got what I thought was about 50% of
my list before going back to this new FANCY bakery and ordering them each a
drink and a treat. I settled for
these extra large chocolate chocolate chip cookies, a coffee for dad and ludicrously
expensive lemonade for Toby. I
left my cart by the bakery’s unimpressed barista and raced up the stairs to
find my boys.
I have never been met with such a welcome before. “Oh, Lyssie, thank GOODnes…” dad said,
“I thought you weren’t coming back!”
I gave them each a hug. They
both agreed that the uber large chocolate chocolate cookies were adequate
stand-ins for the muffins and greedily grabbed their drinks and set to work
devouring both. I listened
patiently to their tales of the adventures on St Clair Ave and then told them I
would be back shortly after I had finished my shopping…I promised not to be
gone for long…
On the stairwell I transformed back from attentive caregiver
to mad-crazy-don’t-think-I-won’t-push-you-over-if-you-get-in-the-way-of-my-cart-shopper
and hit the meats and frozen foods section.
I got ALMOST everything on my list and was heading to check
out when suddenly I got the innate maternal sense that my boys needed another
check in. So I left my cart
strategically located in the dog food section (because it was the least
populated) and raced back upstairs for a quick check-in before heading to the checkout.
Rounding the corner at the top of the stairs I was met by a
very solemn Toby (who now felt the chocolate chocolate chip cookie had been TOO
large and was upseeting hi stomach) and a very EMPTY table by the window. Where the HELL had my father gone?!?!?
“Papa had to go to the bathroom.” Toby said matter-of-factly and then pointed down the
looooong hallway to the bathrooms.
He hadn’t gotten far.
There he was, without his cane or his wheelchair, holding
onto the side of the lovely, modern brown-painted-brick WALL, hobbling himself
towards the men’s washroom. I
raced over to him and promised to get him his wheelchair. Those 50 feet he walked unassisted in
his desperate quest to get to the washroom was probably the most amount of
exercise he has had in years. I
quickly rescued him with his wheelchair and got him the rest of the way.
“There you go, Dad,” I said, wheeling him right up to the
door. “You go in and go to
the washroom and I’m going to check on Toby.”
I raced back down the long hallways and found Toby sitting
by himself at the table, working on his colouring book, still lamenting the
fact that I had fed him TOO large a cookie and that it made his stomach hurt.
It could easily take my dad 20 minutes to tend to his
business in the bathroom and suddenly my mind went back to my cart that was
sitting unattended in the dog food aisle.
I couldn’t even conceive of the disaster that would ensue if someone
stole my cart and I had to start again.
We would be here until next weekend at this rate. So I decided I would take Toby with me,
get the cart, and come back up to get my dad after he was done.
The Loblaws at St Clair and Bathurst is a LARGE store. This was no small feat.
And so we returned 10 minutes later, cart and kid in hand,
to find my dad patiently sitting in his wheelchair outside of the men’s washroom.
I went running over to him, “That was quick!”
The look on his face told me I was wrong, “I haven’t even
BEEN yet!” He said to me, “I
couldn’t FIND the washroom!”
OH GOOD GOD.
So I took Toby and the cart back to the window and then went
back down the hallway and this time WALKED my dad INTO the bathroom, PAST the
urinals and directly INTO one of the toilet stalls. I smiled to the man who was using the urinal on the way back
out.
I had no choice but to sit and wait with Toby this time as
my dad did his business. Toby and
I coloured 5 pictures, counted all the blue and red cars that went by and
watched my ice cream melt as we waited for my dad to finish.
Finally I looked up and there he was, back in his
wheelchair, sitting outside the men’s washroom. Before I could get all the way down the hallway another man
came out of the bathroom and was chatting to my dad. I could tell he was being enlisted to rescue my dad from his
predicament so I picked up my pace.
Just before I arrived I heard my dad say to him, “Oh, THERE
she is! Thanks for your
help!” The man gave me a sideways
look of disgust and carried on down the hallway towards the elevator.
“Oh, I’m SO HAPPY to see you!” my dad exclaimed, “I was just
starting to worry that you weren’t going to come back for me!”
“Dad,” I said, crouching down, “I would never leave
you. I was just down the
hall. Now…what was it you said to
that man?”
“I told him I didn’t know where my wife was!” he said
triumphantly.
Oh, shit. No
wonder the creepy stare.
“And you do know I’m not your wife, RIGHT?!?!” I clarified.
Dad thought this was REALLY funny.
The look on the man’s face (who was waiting by the elevator
when we walked back by) was NOT amused.
And it got even less amused when Toby cheerfully welcomed him back with
a big suggestive, “Hi, Papa! How was the bathroom?"
Why, oh WHY could I not have taught my kids to call him
GRANDPA instead of the ambiguous ‘Papa’?
I swallowed my pride.
The worst of the hurdle was over.
My kid and my father were safe, toileted and fed and I had a cart full
of the necessary groceries (including a now fully melted tub of ice
cream). I had one more hurdle and
that was the checkout.
I am happy to report that checkout and delivering the
groceries to the car went off without a hitch. I returned to the men out of breath but with a great sense
of accomplishment. Dad rejoiced at
the fact that I had (once again) come back for him and Toby joined in his
triumph. As I wheeled them out of
the horribly changed Loblaws dad asked, “Where to next, Lyssie?!”
“How about a quick stop at the LCBO on the way out, “I
suggested “I feel like maybe having a glass of wine when we get home.”
“Good idea!” dad said.
And lo and behold, just as it always was, there was the LCBO right in front of us at the exit...At least Loblaws had the good sense not
to change EVERYthing in their renovations...
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