Ode to Target

Was it Shakespeare who wrote:

Dost they dust everything in that place

With a fine layer of crack?

Because I have a serious

Lose my job, sell all my possessions

End up in a halfway house

                                                   Kind of addiction foreth it

No, it wasn’t Shakespeare, it was me- three or four minutes ago, but Shakespeare would have written it if he had lived in our time, for Target is a wondrous place.  He’d have known that it was Ode worthy.

You’ll forgive me for interrupting my motherhood blogging to gush about a budget department store, but I just love Target.  Iloveitsomuch.  I really, really love it.  There is something about that place, I can’t quite put my finger on, that makes me so happy when I’m there.

The floors are a gleaming ivory.  As the automatic doors buzz open, a familiar smell wafts towards me….. warm popcorn butter, Starbucks, daydreams and plastic.

The staff is so friendly and helpful.  Stuck in a long check-out line?  Not for long.  They always open up a new register. And they have those buttons you can push to call an employee to your location.  Awesome.  While I frequent it all year long, the bright whites and reds are particularly comforting during the long, dark days of winter.  On those days, I bundle up my boy and out we trudge into the cold, into the car and over the highway to the big red bullseye.  To bright light, a mocha latte, toys and colors and music and people.

I buy everything at Target.  Ev-er-y-thing.  Why not?  Where else can you get diapers, an iphone, a bottle of Vueve Cliquot and WD-40?  At Target.  Or, how about a Missoni scarf, a pregnancy test, a miniature pie maker and deck furniture?  Target!  Try one yourself, it’s fun.  Let’s see…. a copy of Tina Fey’s new book, a yoga mat, a shower curtain and Godiva Truffles?  Yep, you can get it all at Target.

Shabby Chic?  Do I need to say anything else?

I go there a lot.  Full disclosure:  I totally, purposefully leave things un-purchased so I have a reason to return over the next couple of days.  That sounds pathetic.  I guess it is pathetic, and it is a true symptom of Stay-At-Home-Mom-itis, I’m not denying it, but you don’t see me leaving groceries un-bought, for example.  Ack!  Hell no.  I detest grocery shopping.  I dread my local mall.  I’m a true-blue Target girl.  I bleed Target red.  Well, I guess we all do, but you know what I mean…..  I won’t even pass the threshold of that other place.  Wal-something or other?  Oh god no.  If I wanted to shop in a dingy, grey, overstuffed airplane hanger, I would do just that- I’d bring a pushcart to the nearest hanger and ask the befuddled mechanics where women’s knee-high socks are stocked.  Probably be just as rewarding an experience.

It’s important to note here that I tend to get a tad adversarial about “competitors” in general, whether they are actually trying to compete or not.  As a young girl, I was nutty for Little House on the Prairie, and as far as I was concerned, The Waltons, that other wholesome period-drama family, were out to steal the Ingalls’ glory.  Don’t even TALK to me about The Waltons.  Are you kidding me?  Did they really think they could out sentimentalize Little House?  Pa and Half-pint?  Have you seen the episode when Laura climbs the mountain to ask God to return her baby brother?  Did you see when Mary’s baby died in the fire at the school for the blind?  But I digress…….

As I’m writing this, a tiny, little Awesome Heather*, in her expensive suit and heels, is sitting on my shoulder, shouting:  “Am I on candid camera? Is this a practical joke?  I’m about to throw myself off this shoulder in humiliation!  Are you really droning on about a big-box department store?”

Luckily, she is mostly drowned out by Stay-At-Home-Mom Heather, “Shut up, Awesome Heather!  What do you know? You leave the house every day!  You see other grown-ups all the time!  Your teeth are brushed!”

A day will come, sooner rather than later, when my little guy will start pestering me for toys and food and generally make a nuisance of himself in public.  Then, I”ll see less of the Target.  But I think it will be okay- might actually heighten the experience.  It’ll be my escape place.  Just me, a latte and all that hip, inexpensive stuff.

If you suspect that I am writing this in the hopes that somehow, some Target executive somewhere will read it and offer me a gigantic gift certificate, you are correct!  Or, what do you think about this: My sister writes a letter to the Ellen Show, about how I like, support her whole family or something and donate all my time to charity and never complain a bit, but how I really wish I could be the next Target spokesperson and then Ellen will make it happen AND send me on an all-expense paid cruise!

It could work.

Do you know who doesn’t love Target?  My Husband.

Me: ” You’re off tomorrow?  Oh, I know what we could do- we could go to Taaaarget and…”

Alex ” No.”

His loss.  Am I right, ladies?

* If you are unfamiliar with Awesome Heather, refer to my post ” Wishing and Waiting”.

Heather Bogolyubova

About Heather Bogolyubova

Heather Bogolyubova has an un-pronouncable last name. A Maine native, she's returned to the Pine Tree state after several years in New York. Now, she's a newlywed, has a new baby, a new job, and lots of fancy shoes she can never wear in the snow. The job: Stay-at- home mother and wife. Its hard. She's going to tell you all.