Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Target Time Warp

You think to yourself, “I’ll just run in to Target and grab some dish soap, tampons, hairspray, a bag of tortilla chips, and a birthday card for Dad. It’ll take 10 minutes, then I’ll go to my nail appointment.” (Well something like that runs through your head, does mine anyway.)You walk in the red door, under the bulls-eye. You have the best of intentions as you grab that red cart, walking directly toward the household cleaning products to get the dish soap.  ~ Oh, look at those little metal buckets! Those would be perfect for small toys! ~

Once you have the soap you head towards the feminine hygiene products to find the tampons. ~That headband is so cute it would be perfect with OCDiva’s orange dress! ~

Once you have the tampons (why is the cart so heavy) you wander in the direction of the snacks to grab the chips.  ~ Snark Girl has been asking for some new flip flops, hmm, neon yellow/green in her size, perfect! ~

.Finally you make it to the chips and throw them in your basket. ~ I should really grab more pretzels, and Goldfish crackers while I’m here. ~

Next you need to find the hairspray because your hair is just not going to stay cute on its own. ~What an adorable pair of plaid shorts, oh and they have a matching polo. The Boy could really use those for church. ~  

You aim (again) for the beauty department and the hairspray.  ~Car trashcans! DH really needs one of those because the trash on the floor of his car is just unacceptable. ~

You notice that, oddly, your feet hurt a bit, but you power through because you really need hairspray.  ~Well, we do need new beach towels for summer, and if I don’t get them now, they’ll be gone. ~

With the hairspray in the basket you move toward the last item on your list, the birthday card. What kind of card to get, there are so many to choose from. ~Well that is such a cute Little People school bus! The boys would love it! ~  

Finally, humorous (yet appropriate) card in hand you head toward checkout lanes.  ~ Those are the shorts Snark Girl wants for softball, oh, on sale, better grab those. ~

You start emptying the basket and wonder how on earth you ended up with all of this stuff! Is this someone else’s basket? Was someone slipping things into your basket? Are you on one of those hidden camera shows? What the heck happened? Because without even realizing it, you’ve gone from a ten minute, $15 trip to pick up dish soap, tampons, hairspray, chips, and a card, to a 90minute trip for metal buckets, headband, Boo-Boo Buddies, flip flops, pretzels, Goldfish crackers, shorts, polo, car trashcan, beach towels, Little People Bus, and  softball shorts, and your total is over $200!

Clearly, you’ve been a victim of the TARGET TIME WARP. (It’s even worse at Super Target because they have Starbucks!) Now if you’ll excuse me I need to run to Target for Vitamin Water and overnight diapers, I should only be gone a few minutes . . .

Sunday, April 8, 2012


When does it happen? Are there signals? How do you know when it happens to you? Does something change about you and mark you forever? What makes other people know it’s your time?
 I’m talking about when someone call you “ma’am” for the first time, well someone other than a member of the military. It shocked me when it started happening to me. I was in my early twenties and suddenly teenagers, not that much younger than I, were calling me (shudder) “ma’am”.  I was appalled! I would check the mirror for wrinkles and signs of rampant aging! Why on earth were these people, less than a decade my junior, calling me that hideous term reserved for people that were really old, like my mother?

For years I cringed (internally and externally) when I was called “ma’am”. But gradually, as I aged, I no longer cringed. Instead I began to kind of accept it. Not because I suddenly looked “that old” (I’m often told I look 8 to 10 years younger than I am by people for whom there is no benefit in lying to me), but just because I seemed to have reached that point in my life. I had made peace with it I suppose. A recent event made me realize that I not only accept it, but I except it.  What was this momentous event? I shall tell you.

I had to go to Walmart the other evening. While in the toy department, a young man, in his late teens (I would estimate) felt it appropriate to bounce a basketball repeatedly and loudly through the aisles of the toy department store while shouting (repeatedly) "I gots da rock!" Upon my first encounter face to face encounter w/this youth I said, "Yes, it looks very nice sitting on top of your neck." This caused a nearby man in his 30s (?) to laugh uproariously, and nearly fall over when the youth did not get that I was implying he had a rock for a head. The youth continued to bounce the ball through the store (it was loud and echoed). Then, as I waited in line to pay, I was again treated to the sound (from the next lane) of the basketball being slammed into the floor and the "I gots da rock" verbalization. After few rounds of this noise. After watching other patrons roll their eyes and sigh and mutter about they wished he would quit. After hearing the cashier beg Jesus to make it stop, I said, "I’ve got this.” Then I very loudly said in my best “mom” voice, “IF YOU BOUNCE THAT ROCK ONE MORE TIME I WILL SHOVE IT SOMEWHERE SO YOU GOTS IT FOREVER!" My statement was accompanied by dead silence. Then I heard cussing from the youth. He then rounded the corner to my lane, with a look of anger on his face, his girlfried (?) following nervously behind him, he took a step toward me. I put my arms out to my sides in a "bring it" gesture, and said, "Yeah! What!?" He stopped short, held his hands up in surrender and said, "Uhm, nothing ma'am, nothing." Walked back to his lane and we did not hear anymore bouncing. The cashier asked if she could be my bestie.

It was at the moment the youth called me “ma’am”, that I realized I liked to be called “ma’am”. I accepted it. I owned it. I expected it. I no longer think of being called ma’am as a sign that I am “really old”. I think of it as a sign of respect, one that I have earned by no longer be an inexperienced teen myself.  I especially expect it from ill behaved punks at Walmart!