A crafty friend of mine decided our today would be much better spent channeling the urban, uber-hip spirit we both have in our souls, the spirit we sometimes feel trying to claw her way up from underneath the pile of crushed Cheerios and dried-out markers. It takes a huge incentive for me to warrant skipping Asher's nap (I paid dearly for it tonight), but escaping the suburban storefronts in lieu of eclectically painted exteriors was incentive enough. Regardless of the fact that our quasi adventure took place in a minivan (my zippy red don'teverwanttotradeitinforaminvan civic would have aided in our guise, but alas, with four children between the both of us, it was a necessary evil, if evil is considered having rear air conditioning and plenty of leg room), I think we played it off well. Our first stop was Smeeks candy shop located in downtown Phoenix.
(Photo not courtesy of me. I hope that's all the copyright lingo necessary)
It's a super-duper cute little store filled with all the vintage inspired goodies your heart could wish for. Before entering the store, my uber-hip friend (we gave ourselves new personalities for the day and uber-hip sounded better than craftily-hippy) listed the rules to her children (no touching, no begging, basically don't act you age), and I lazily said "Draney children, ditto", and if all the rules were met, we would reward them with a trip to Urban Cookies. It's sometimes all about what gets you through the experience, and rewarding good behavior at a candy shop with the candy that you bought from the candy shop didn't occur to us. Or, we just really wanted some cookies that were urban. The rules were broken (they acted their age, the little heathens), but not visiting Urban Cookies would have nixed all our urbanitedness that we'd been so carefully nurturing all day. While we hip moms dined on gourmet cupcakes, our little ones quickly ate their ice cream sandwiches before they melted. When asked if they were happy with the day's events, one of the little ones responded, as ice cream was running down their arms, that "this was not a good idea". Oh well. At least we adults felt like our urber-hip spirits were smiling, and I think mine was enjoying the rear air in the minivan as well. And hey, it turns out that the necessary evil of taking the minivan was kismet, because what urban mom experience doesn't include a drive by browsing of the furniture located in the parking lot of an antique store? Browsing quickly turned to buying, and my totally cute vintage bookshelf would not have fit in my waytoosmallbutstillnotgettingaminivan civic's trunk. We ended our uber-hip, SOCIETY'S RULES SUCK! AND WE WILL NOT CONFORM TO YOUR STEREOTYPES! day by sitting on the floor of my crafty friend's sewing room, making yo yos for a pillow. For now, suburban spirit is grateful she's back, and smiling at me as I made two different dinners tonight out of leftovers. She also gave me a high five when I graciously let me husband leave me home alone on a Friday night, with an overly tired, screaming 3 year old, so that he could shop for power tools. See you tomorrow at Target. (oh, she just patted my bum)