my target story
Every mom I know has a Target story. One where things went so wrong, she thought she might have to switch to a Target down the road. Mine was in the spring of 2005.
We had just returned from an international move. I had Abbie in the baby Bjorn (2mos), Clara (14mos) in the front of the cart, and Stephen (almost 3) in the back. (Yes, I know. It’s crazy to have three children under three. No, I don’t advise it. Yes, they get along and once we got out of the preschool years it was actually pretty fun.)
I had bought Clara and Stephen popcorn assuming that if their mouths were full, they wouldn't make those new screeching noises they had just learned at the church nursery. So, I doled out the snacks and then raced like a maniac through the store trying to get everything on my list before the bags were empty.
I made it through the store with two 3-year-old fistfuls of popcorn to spare. We pulled into our check-out lane, me sweating and close to swearing, fighting post-partum unawares. Stephen, with a gleeful howl, threw the contents of his popcorn bag into the air. Success had been SO close, only to be thrown in little kernels down the aisle. As I leaned down to begin picking up the pieces, I felt Stephen's paper bag ricochet off my head - with another gleeful howl. All the while, the checkout girl chewed her gum and watched.
If I hadn't been at my absolute bottom, I probably would have laughed at the absurdity. As it was, I was praying that the popcorn smell and the up and down motions while I bent down to pick it up wouldn't wake the Mt Vesuvius reflux monster we called Abbie.
The checkout girl rang up my order, and I handed her my precious gift card. It had about $30 on it and I had counted every bit of it using sales and specials. The girl swiped the card - and only $6 came off my total.
WELL.
I took a deep breath. And another. Smacking gum girl looked at me a little warily.
I slowly, deliberately explained that there was a mistake and began to frantically look for the gift card receipt that would give me some credibility. Stephen and Clara (popcorn gone) attempted to harmonize their howls. I let them, even though my blood pressure rose with each cry. My macabre attempt to pressure the red shirted stinker.
Gum girl slowly reached her right hand out and flipped on the "help me please, crazy woman here" light. A manager appeared shortly. A manager who obviously had no children, no sympathy, and no charm. She used small words to explain to me that I was only going to get $6 from my card.
That was it. The dam burst. I began crying. Then sobbing. Then some little giggles came out with the tears.
Gum Girl and Mean Manager each took a step back. Stephen and Clara briefly stopped their vocal harmonizing, only to begin again in a valiant attempt to sing a lullaby to me.
I swiped my debit card, silently praying that God would make the $24 appear in my account. It cleared, I packed up my things through my tears, and walked out of there completely defeated. I needed a friend.
Who do you call after your Target disasters? Do you have anyone to call? This parenting journey is not designed to be traveled alone. We need friends, confidants, and sanity savers. We need folks with a listening ear, advocates who threaten to storm the store, and allies who always have a witty retort to ease the tension.
Maybe you’re wondering if those friend unicorns exist. Well, they do! It’s unfair that sometimes we must do the uncomfortable work to find them when we are already at the end of our rope. I wish friends came gift wrapped when we brought that first baby home. But they don’t. Thankfully, though, you can find community! You can spot them at church, a mom’s group, a gym, the cafeteria at work, or even in the preschool line. Just look for the one whose eyes connect with yours, who chuckle instead of stiffen when irritation hits, and who has a few stains on her clothes.
Be bold and start the conversation. Hopefully the first person you find the courage to chat with will be a new friend for life. If she isn’t, though, that’s alright. As a friend of mine told me, “sometimes you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your people.” Keep kissing and keep opening up. Pray for God to provide and then stand on His faithfulness.
After a few years of three preschoolers, a lot of tears, and more diapers than I am comfortable confessing to, it got better. I got better. I found friends who weren’t afraid to wipe my kids noses, crawl on the floor with me, or decompress after a drama-ridden preschool drop-off. With the love and support of a solid group of friends, I made it.
We all need companions who can listen to our Target stories of defeat, defend our actions, and then help us laugh it off. So, here’s to community. May your arms open wide, your comfort flow freely, and your laughter be abundant. And may you never have to switch to the Target down the road.
