The Suburban Spirit of the Season

I did it.

Spending just under thirty minutes and just over sixty dollars, I have ensured that Baby will have a veritable mountain of (slightly-used) toys to open on Christmas morning.

If you could see this mountain, you would surely gasp, “Lucinda! How did you manage to buy all of these expensive and oh-so-popular toys for just 60 bones?!”

Two words: Consignment Sale.

Here in suburbia, the annual toy consignment sale is the one true harbinger of the holiday season and for obvious reasons, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

But before you start up your car, let me warn you that consignment sales are not for the meek and mild-mannered. Oh, no. Only the pushy (and prompt) bitches get anything worthwhile.

I arrived at today’s sale (held at the local mall), moments before the doors opened, joining a silent line of mothers with set jaws and grim expressions. Every mom worth her salt pushed a stroller; Consignment Vets know the stroller is absolutely key in blocking off entire sections of toys so that one can pick and choose without competition.

As the sale began, I raced toward the entrance, zigzagging my stroller to cut off a mom behind me as she surreptitiously tried to edge past. In my zeal, I accidentally nipped the heels of a grandmother ahead of me.

“Sorry,” I shrugged in response to her glare.

Granny didn’t push it. I could see by the hard gleam in her eye that she understood- at consignment sales, anything goes. As if to neutralize the situation, she turned and elbowed a young mom beside her.

Once inside, the women scattered to pluck up toys before anyone else could get to them. I grabbed up a $12 Little Tikes rider, then crawled beneath a table to triumphantly pull out a humongous moving box overflowing with baby doll furniture. It was a steal at $15.

“Hey! Could you move this thing outta the way?!” a mother fumed from behind my stroller, strategically placed to give me first pick of the entire toddler kitchenette section.

Turning back to quickly scan the area, I slowly moved my stroller out of the aisle.

“Junk,” I sniffed at the mom before moving on.

Ahead of me in the video section, a woman was causing quite a ruckus with her son, who was tethered like a dog on a toddler leash. He was busy lunging at toys while nervous mamas tried to edge past him.

“Whoa, Preston. Whoa,” his mother muttered halfheartedly, clearly enjoying the back-up Preston was creating and using the opportunity to peruse the Disney movies.

I stopped short.

“Melanie?” I said.

She looked up.

“Lucinda. Hi,” she said weakly, unable to hide her dismay.

Melanie had briefly attended my play group last year with two runny-nosed, phlegmy toddlers in tow. She mysteriously stopped coming right about the time Baby came down with her first-ever illness, strep throat, and remained sick for a month. I was still peeved about it.

“Ohhhh, the Fisher Price castle,” I said, noting the oversized toy she clutched in her arms. “You know it’s missing the moat, right?”

“The moat?” she said

“It doesn’t even work without the moat,” I ad-libbed. “I was going to buy that and one of the workers was nice enough to warn me about it. That’s why it’s so cheap.”

Her grip loosened slightly.

“Oh well,” I said. “I’m off to look at board books!”

Turning to go, I saw her regretfully put down the castle before I walked away. It was nothing compared to holding a feverish baby non-stop for an entire week, but I’d take what revenge I could get.

Making my way through the aisles, I picked up some pop up books here ($1 for four) a set of alphabet board books there($2), an alphabet wooden puzzle ($2), a musical book of nursery rhymes ($2) and a Fisher Price giraffe holding 10 blocks ($5) before I happened upon the piece de resistance… The coveted Fisher Price barn along with what looked like all the accessories. Yet how could I be sure? Other moms, sensing my hesitation, began circling the toy table, zeroing in on the barn. I felt a thin bead of sweat form on my upper lip.

“They’re all there,” a man said beside me. I looked up. Holy heck, it was Michael Landon!

“M-M-Mr. Landon?” I stuttered.

“The barn retails for $25. The accessories are another $18, not including tax,” he said as I gawked at him. “It’s a great deal at $22. I mean, look at it. It’s practically new.”

Michael put the barn in my shaking hands before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

I looked down at my barn, not believing my eyes. It doesn’t hurt to have God on your side at a consignment sale.

Once everything was paid for, I had a new dilemma… How on earth would I get it all to the car? I sighed and took Baby out of her stroller seat. Loading everything in her place, I picked Baby up and made my way through the mall, feeling like a bag lady with my heaping stroller of toys.

A few times during our torturous journey, I thought the arm that Baby was sitting on was simply going to fall off, or at least give way like a dunking machine platform. But miraculously, it held. We made it to the car, where I unloaded my treasures amidst much gnashing of teeth from mothers struggling to unfold their strollers in the parking lot.

No Fisher Price barn for you, bee-otch!! I thought merrily as a pert blonde frowned at my toyload before quickly turning back to heave her son from his carseat.

And so I say as I sit here surrounded by gently-played-with toys about to be boiled and scoured and otherwise disinfected into near-newness…. Let the suburban holidays begin!