Why I Will Never Go To Ikea Again

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Picture this: It’s a beautiful sunny day in March. You just bought your first home and are pregnant with your first baby. You’re ecstatic to get the ball moving on buying all the cutest accent pieces and minimalist baby furniture, because that’s all the rage right now. Where else to go but the BRAND NEW IKEA? I mean, it is practically the holy grail of organization– not that I do much of that, but hey, one can wish! And I was full of hope and dreams of having the freshest, cleanest, modern look I could get. Fast forward 30 minutes and 2 ounces of water in…

ikea

My hopes and dreams of this new minimalist nursery came to an abrupt halt. Of course, at eight months pregnant, having to pee is not something surprising. However, what is surprising is the fact that a two hundred and seventy THOUSAND square foot warehouse has only one set of bathrooms and guess where they are located? That’s right. At the very FRONT of the store. (Insert creative curse words here.) Of course, after a half an hour in, we had already made it nearly half way through the store. Now, if you have gone to Ikea, you know that not only is it huge, but it is set up in a way that requires one to go through a maze in order to get out. Keep in mind the store was brand new and even the employees were having trouble guiding me through to get the bathroom- AT THE FRONT OF THE STORE.

At this point I am panicking. My daughter is doing some type of karate in my stomach, and though completely irresponsible of me, I decided I did not want to wear a liner today. I am waddling through this maze as quickly as I can- so quick that my belly is bouncing, my double chin is jiggling, and my ankles are smacking the floor.

Then what starts to happen? If you’ve been pregnant, you know the answer to this. Correct, I start leaking with every bounce of my steps. I feel my face getting flushed, I am trying to pull off my sweater because at the point I am burning up- whether from anger, humiliation, the fact that I am practically jogging through Ikea, or maybe a combination of it all, I was not certain.

Here come the tears. I can’t hold it anymore. I know I am about to lose this battle. I know that I still have a fourth of the way to go, but I don’t give up and I stride on making my way toward the bathroom, praying to God I get there. I am sobbing at this point- but the front of the store is close because I can see the door. My pants are a little wet at this point but my shirt is long enough to cover it- still recoverable. I am almost safe.

But it was all in vain; the whole attempt was a loss as I waddled up to the bathroom entrance where I find a line of about 6 or 7 people just standing, waiting to use the ONE SET OF BATHROOMS in Ikea. I suppose they are minimalists in that area, too. Well done, I suppose. I guess I just don’t really understand how you can have hundreds of storage options, tens of kitchen options and yet, only one set of bathrooms- located at the front of the store. Anyhow, that was all I could take. I felt my heart sink and I was already sobbing and sweaty and embarrassed. I mean, how much worse could this get? I had hoped there was not an answer to that but just as I whip around the corner to head out toward my car, it happened. The famous bladder kick, as hard as she could.

And there I was, standing at the entrance of Ikea with all my dignity flowing down my pants. And that is why I will never go to Ikea again.