I went to my very first consignment sale yesterday.
I was very excited about it.
I cannot tell you how many times I’ve been at a friend’s house, and after admiring an awesome toy, they’ve said, “Oh, I got that for, like, 5 cents at a consignment sale.”
So I felt like now that I know Tom has some particular likes (trains, trains, trains, and toy story) that I would take my 5 cents and go spend it at a consignment sale.
A friend told me about a huge one taking place not too far from our house.
I checked the website a couple times and felt like this was the sale for me!
In particular, I was looking for a train table for Tom.
So, I borrowed Kev’s truck (so I could transport the train table I would TOTALLY find) and loaded up Tom’s stroller and I set off.
And then…things went downhill.
First, I parked in the wrong lot. It wasn’t so bad, it just meant that I had to walk a little further than everyone else.
Then I got to the building where the possible train tables were, and saw a sign that said I couldn’t bring in the stroller I had.
Of course, they said we could use an umbrella stroller — which I always have with me — in MY car.
So anyway, I almost died.
But I quickly recovered and felt like surely, Tom and I could handle this…stroller-less.
So I walked back to the far away parking lot, dropped off my stroller and sanity, and carried my 30 pound child back to the train table building.
They had three — but one was too pricey, and the other two were too beat up.
So then I decided to walk to the other buildings where toys, books and clothing were being sold.
OH. MY. GOD.
Nothing prepared me for this. Nothing.
Not even seeing the “running of the brides” at Filene’s Basement when they sell Vera Wang wedding gowns for $100 have I ever seen anything like this.
Picture it: Me. Sweating. Holding child. Carrying purse. Fear in eyes.
But I went in. And I grabbed one of their offered Ikea bags to haul stuff.
Of course, the pros had laundry baskets with ropes tied to them so they could PULL all their stuff.
Me? I had no idea what to do.
I was so completely overwhelmed.
I picked up one book and put it in my bag.
I picked up one toy (a big, plastic school bus) and tried to put it in my bag, but Tom wanted to “hold” it when means…
Picture this: Me. Sweating. 100,000 other sweating moms. Holding child. Holding big, plastic school bus. Holding purse. Holding Ikea bag.
I went to the clothes.
So. Much. Worse.
I didn’t get anything I was going for, but did get a couple clothing items for Gus and Tom anyway.
Of course, I didn’t double check all the sizing, so at least two things I bought are actually un-wearable. (Go me!)
The check out line was forevers-ville.
Check out took longer than that.
They gave me a garbage bag to haul away my wares.
(And yes, garbage bag ties feel AWESOME on the shoulder. Thanks for asking!)
As I exited, a cop at the door asked if I had my receipt.
You know, the one I’d just shoved into my purse 5 seconds ago?
So I said, “Yes, probably.”
And I proceeded to put down my child, holding his hand, put down my purse, put down my garbage bag, find the receipt, and I held it up just in time to see him shutting the door on me.
Apparently, he figured anyone who was that disordered wasn’t thieving.
So I hauled all of that stuff ALL THE WAY back to Kev’s non-umbrella-holding truck.
My angel child, who seriously was as perfect as can be during this excursion, was excited to be back at the truck so he could have “snacks!”
I got into the truck, tried to steer with my now-noodle-arm, and checked the clock, surely thinking it’s been hours and is time for lunch.
We’d spent ONE hour there.
I spent the rest of the day letting my arms recover and putting batteries in that school bus Tom got.
That school bus is THE MOST ANNOYING TOY EVER MADE!!
I think I’ll be dropping it off at Grandma’s.
Or the trash.
(Hey, it was only $2!)