Humor Journal Motherhood

I Need A Target Intervention

I Need A Target Intervention www.herviewfromhome.com
Written by Carolyn Moore

There’s something wrong with my car. 

I mean, it runs fine. It’s got four wheels. Windshield wipers. A backseat full of garbage (thanks, kids!). But something’s wrong with the navigation system. 

Because it drives to Target ALL BY ITSELF at least three times per week. 

It’s so weird!

Exhibit A: last week. I dropped the kids off at school after another zen morning featuring agreeable children who ate their breakfast in a timely fashion, brushed and washed without complaint, and cheerfully loaded themselves into the car ten minutes ahead of schedule. 

(I know, thank you. I’m the world’s most amazing mother.) 

After the van door slid shut behind my angels in the school parking lot, the next thing I know I’m schlepping my unshowered, uncaffeinated self into the Mecca of Motherhood. 

Do I remember how I got to Target? Nope. 

Had I already been there three times that week? Yep. 

Did I see five other women I knew before I even made it past the front checkout lanes? Of course. 

Because here’s the thing: at this point, in this stage of motherhood when I’m busy doing all the things all the time for all the people, Target saves my sanity. It’s not even about the products on the shelves, to be honest. I could buy diapers and toddler socks and toilet paper at any number of other stores in town. (At least I think I could? I’ve never actually done it.)

But it’s not about what I’m buying (or forgetting to buy, but that’s another story entirely). 

This place is MY place.

It’s OUR place. 

It’s where we go to see friends we otherwise only keep up with on Facebook because we’re too busy being mothers to get together at the park like normal friends. 

It’s where we go when we suddenly must consider new throw pillows for the couch we might get in ten years when the kids might be old enough not to destroy it.  

It’s where we go to wander aimlessly through accessories and laundry detergent, caffeine in hand, small children imprisoned in holey red carts, when we need to recharge our frazzled minds.

Do I need a Target intervention? Oh yeah. 100%. 

But I have a sneaking suspicion you probably need one, too.

So for now, I think it’s best if we keep existing in this nebulous bliss of satisfied denial. There’s a reason we’re all drawn to this khaki and red wonderland that has nothing to do with shopping lists or school supplies—and everything to do with surviving motherhood. 

Now if you’ll excuse me, I think it’s time to jump in my car…

About the author

Carolyn Moore

Carolyn traded a career in local TV news for a gig as a stay-at-home mom, where the days are just as busy and the pay is only slightly worse. She lives in flyover country with her husband and four young kids, and occasionally writes about raising them at Assignment Mom