IKEA, A Place Where Pregnant Ladies Lift Heavy Things

bunch a billy


Kevin left today.  It was sad to see him go.  The kids had a great time riding bikes around the farm and getting twirled around and around and around and around.  “Again!Again!”  Minty and Lucy fighting for his attention.  Otto explaining in detail his accomplishments with Lego Star Wars.  Next time we see him we’ll have one more Curtis and some warm weather.

relaxed kevin

The airport drop-off is about an hour and thirty minutes away from our place, but more importantly, it’s right next to Ikea.  I have a love-hate relationship with Ikea.  The first and last time I stepped foot in one was almost twelve years ago when Brent and I bought our first house.  We moved all of our valuable possessions (read shit left over from university) to quickly discover that we had a big house with nowhere to sit.  One long trip through the Ikea maze of consumerism and we were out with a fairly good set up of Snörks and Björks for only a couple thousand dollars.  It took me twelve years to recover from my Ikea trip which presents similar symptoms to that of a Disney induced concussion.


In that twelve years as our incomes grew, we could afford furniture in the same genre that was better built and classically designed.  I’m a big fan of solidly built furniture with wood and / or steel.  Each Ikea piece was slowly replaced.  Then we downsized.  Then we moved to France thinking we’d be all small-European-like, but low and behold we — for reasons we’re still surprising ourselves with – buy a big-arse farmhouse with a lot of land.  As Brent describes it, “the house eats furniture.”  We put all of our furniture, the same furniture that people gave us shit about bringing (oh look at aaaaall that stuff, you have soooo much stuff … ug hello!!?!?! Five and a demi people, people!! Geeeeeez) … it is all here in this house, still so much space and  we have nowhere to put the things.  Thankfully, we have plenty of places to sit.  Houses such as these don’t do built-ins.  No closets.  No shelving.  No Kitchen.  And so, where does one go with a small budget to get the house in order?  A big one, right next to the airport.  Off to Ikea I go with a nest of other pregnant ladies.  I didn’t notice this before, but Ikea is a pregnant lady’s crack habit.  We’re all there satisfying that urge to get things organized quick quick quick!  We help each other lift extremely awkward and heavy objects we’re not supposed to budge onto our cart.  We kindly dodge each other as we manage our large bellies pushing and pulling two chariots one for boxes and the other for little bits and pieces.  After much thinking on this Ikea dealio as well as pounding the floor trying to do and re-do a few f$&cking drawers (do not assemble Ikea with three small children in the house), I’ve found a place for Ikea.  They give good storage.  Shelves.  Benches.  Bathroom and Kitchen furnishings.  Quick to assemble.  No mistakes.  But stay clear of drawers.  It’s not worth it.  Today was bookshelves, which should unpack at least thirty or so book boxes getting us closer to that moved-in feel.  We  have that squatter look at the moment.

4 thoughts on “IKEA, A Place Where Pregnant Ladies Lift Heavy Things

  1. brentcu says:

    That face paint is still on the back window of Rosebud.

    And another rare ‘Jean pregnant’ photo! You look like you stuffed a basketball up your sweater rather than actually pregnant!

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