Attention Target Shoppers

                                                   Attention Target Shopper

  Tonight I went shopping at Target with my kids, one age 16 and the other 26.  We were doing the usual Target shuffle, walking around looking for deals, putting stuff in the cart that we need, looking for more deals, putting stuff in the cart that we don't need, taking the things out of the cart that we need to make room for the stuff we don't need, the usual Target dance.

  I sometimes really do not like to shop with my kids. I especially don't like to shop with them close to when I get paid because I tend to spend money on things we don't need with money I don't have. I  get very uncomfortable and I start to fret, you know, the real kind of fret, where the  throat gets full, the head gets pulsey, and the brow furls. As my fretting comes to climax I am deciding if I should cry, freak out or scream at them and ask them "why it is so hard for them to understand that I am broke and this money needs to pay bills and feed us!!!!!!!  Goddammit!!!"  I tell myself "okay, calm down, breathe, all is basically well", we continue our trek.

  While shopping along with the other Target Lemmings, among us there was a group of about 8-9 people, obviously family members of various ages.  They were in the  bedding, furniture and housewares section.  In this area there are end-caps of circular lounge type chairs made of bungee cords and some make of thick strips of  bouncy material in a weave pattern.  Next to the these chairs there was another end-cap that had a display of  a Queen Anne faux leather chair with a throw pillow, and an ottoman with a floor lamp, elevated, so people could get an idea of how this little combo would look in your house.  Very nice.

  Now, of course you know where I am going with this, the aforementioned family, has made themselves quite comfortable in this display, not only encouraging the younger children to hop upon the chair and the ottoman, but they have taken several chairs off the end-cap to sprinkle around the aisles. They are literally having a sit-down.  Hanging out, talking, watching the other shoppers.  It was crazy.  I was at a lost for words.  I have never seen this before, ever.  I am gobsmacked.  Literally.  

After the shock wore off, we went on our merry way, shaking our heads and trying to outwit each other with comments about the situation with our fine Irish humor. Perhaps this is what they do in the markets in the old country.  Maybe, for this family, this is their Target shuffle, it is a big store, maybe they needed a break.  Of course they could be ill mannered, inconsiderate Barbarians . Who knows? I will tell you this, they were not Irish.

  We continue shopping and while,  the cart is filling up, I am counting items, adding them up in my head, trying to figure if  we really need the item, blah, blah, blah.  Always in the back of my head is the voice that compares my insides with other people's insides, while I fret this voice never shut's up.  As I am doing the mental math, trying to stay under the amount of money I said I would spend here, knowing I am full well over that amount; the committee that resides in the negative space in my head is assuring me that I am a failure, I can't even manage a simple shopping trip, you am so bad with money, you will never have enough money, you are not worthy of a comfortable existence and only successful people have money, you are less than and will never amount to anything.  I hate these damn voices.

  Sure enough, we end up back in the aisle where the "party" was earlier.   The "guests"  had left but they failed to clean up their mess.   The "mess" consisted of an open toy on the display, 6 chairs taken off the end-caps and strewn about the aisle.  Perhaps they thought the guys and gals in the red shirts and khaki pants were there to clean up after them.  As we get further down the aisle and making comments among ourselves we arrive at the scene, my kids veer off to the mess and fold up the chairs and put them away in the right place.  I am about to say "stop", because there are people there who get paid to pick up the mess, instead,  I stop.  I stop myself and watch my kids do this chore. Without hesitation, without bickering, without being told to, they put the chairs away.  I turn to watch them.  They are doing it together, with smiles.  My kids. I turn around fully to watch them.  Wow.

  They are done, and truthfully, it was only six chairs, but, I felt in my heart, a pulsing, I felt a pride swell in my throat and a mist in my eyes.  Then I hear a whisper, "that's you" a gentle voice tells me that I am responsible, I had a part in shaping who they are, I helped build that character.  The gentle voice, the voice I often push out so I can hear the Committee tell me what a loser I am,  tells me all is basically well, the voice fills me with a sense of pride and a feeling of love that can't be matched.  I have good kids.  There isn't a pot of money in the world that could make that moment any better.  Not one red cent.

   We get home, I look over our purchases and know that I will have to return a lot of this stuff.  I don't need it, I have enough and all is basically well.   I remind myself to listen to the gentle voice, it is much wiser than the Committee.   I have much more than money can buy, I have very good kids who think of others, who are helpful and kind.  I realize that this trip to Target has given me much more than I bargained for, and for that, I am truly grateful.