Our first stop was the cafe on the second level of the store. Swedish pancakes with lingonberries for $1.99? Sign me up! It was like a cafeteria for the "cool kids," only not the "popular-cool kids" but the kids who sat in the back of English class who made all the snarky comments that kept things interesting. They had a condiment section with flavored mayonnaise. The word "boost" was painted in big orange letters above the booster chairs, accompanied by the phrase, "Need to get closer to those meatballs?" Isn't that just cool? They thought of everything a mother holding a baby would need: stackable-rolling trays that can carry many plates, so you can still hold the baby and transport the food trays; a bottle warmer; kids' tables with activities to keep the kids busy; bibs for babies; baby spoons, etc. Our lunch experience was great. But the shopping experience ... not as great. It wasn't the store's fault. Again, they thought of everything for a mother accompanied with small children. They even have a nursery, but the nursery was full for a few hours, and I thought it would be fun for the girls to look around with me. Nearly every few hundred feet in the store was a little activity center for kids to draw pictures on a television screen, as well as other activities. My problem was my 16-month old and the carts. She didn't want to stay in the cart, so I had to hold her and push the cart at the same time. And even though it was an easy cart to push, I got tired of doing both. The older girls were having a fun time, but I had to tear them away, because I just got too frustrated with Nohea. I know I just posted about how fun it is having a 16-month old, but they are also frustrating. And I already have a huge aversion to shopping. If you had grown up with Karen Christenson as your mother, you would have an aversion to shopping too. My mom probably holds the record for being able to look at every little thing on a rack, then turning to me and making me try on every piece. It was enough to pull my hair out. The shopping gene skipped me, but hit Lilia square in her DNA. She wanted to stay at IKEA for another six hours or so. I had to get out of there. I'm the miser in our family. Depleting the family coffers is not my idea of a good time. I'm also terrible with style and decorating my house. I get so overwhelmed. I know what I like, but the idea of implementing those ideas causes me to hyperventilate. I'm waiting for the kids to get older, and then I want to hire someone with those skill sets to come decorate my house for me.
It's nice to know one of my ancestral heritage lines, the Swedes, could create such a mother friendly store. It made me wonder what our world would be like if grocery stores were designed IKEA style. And it made me wish my knowledge of Sweden was a little more indepth than knowing what a Dala horse looks like. My great-great grandpa was Swedish. The heritage is almost completely lost on my mom's side. My sister and brother-in-law served missions in Sweden, as well as an uncle. And my mom makes Swedish pancakes, but they taste more like extra big crepes (with bastardized toppings my Uncle Pat does not approve of, because a true Swedish pancake does not have chocolate pudding and whipped cream). I wish I knew some Swedish words such as "go to sleep, little baby" and "be quiet, rotten children." I don't dare join a "heritage" club, because as we've watched on the Discovery channel on more than one occasion, white supremesists like to recruit members by starting "heritage" groups.
But if IKEA is any indication, Swedes are uber-cool and ultra-chic, and best of all, they know how to take care of mothers.