A Foray Through the Land of Consumption and Our Partial Escape

Once a month or so it becomes necessary for us to have the Wal-Mart experience. It happens to be the closest big-box store to my house, and its abundant supply of stuff all in one place seals the deal. Fabric, dog food, a metal spatula, whatever miscellaneous items I’ve broken in the last month that need replacing, etc—it is gathered and we wait an eternity for the snail’s pace cashier to usher us along our way.

The Wal-Mart experience is special, but of course not really in a good way. We’ve all seen the memes. In defense of Wal-Mart, it does seem to employ the rejects of society. Who else was going to hire that cashier with the squirrely eyes and that half smirk as she lingers over every item scanned. That’s a lot of toilet paper. So you broke another metal spatula? How does that happen? I’m pretty sure this lady has been a prostitute and a CEO at some point in her life, and Wal-Mart has provided a careful balance between the two.

But enough about Wal-Mart. This is not about Wal-Mart. This is about Target.

Target is the store of choice for the standard American stay-at-home-mom. I see posh looking women out and about town and hear them saying to each other, “Oh yes, I got it at Target.” If your average Floridian Wal-Mart shopper drives a pick-up truck with an emblem of a deer’s head on the back window, then your average Target shopper can be seen driving a Lincoln and jamming out to pop music. I certainly don’t side with the Wal-Martians, but I can’t be seen being posh at Target either. You can find me at the local thrift store. I’m getting off topic again…

So today I had to go to Target, because with their fancy persona I figured the selection of sound machines would be better than Wal-Mart. I had to buy one today, because in order to get sleep, other little people have to sleep. I didn’t want a sleep deprived version of myself to throw a broken sound machine through a window tonight, so I opted to purchase a new fully-functional one. I don’t want to repeat our sleeplessness of last night. So, the boy and the tot and I traveled to the posh land of Target. Many a mom could be seen pushing a cart with a tot of her own fully equipped with a sippy cup (and no doubt a backup), and at least one of those little no-spill cups full of goldfish crackers—the standard stay-at-home-mom stuff.

I selected our sleep necessity, and then the children spotted the nearby toy aisle. A new world unfolded before their eyes. Target clearly markets itself toward a richer clientele than Wal-Mart. There were so many beautiful toys. For a few minutes I was lost. I was having flashbacks to my childhood. Oh, the dollhouse I always wanted. The Barbie-sized horses. An entire aisle of toys in pink packaging. Then reality caught up with me. Would the dollhouse and the Barbie-sized horses have improved my childhood? Probably not. My childhood was awesome.

Blasted Target. It introduced the boy to Lego kits he had not fathomed before. Build a passenger train for $150. After a few of those kits, I would want to add on a room to the house as a designated safe place for Lego building, to protect the Legos from the children and their tendency to misplace them.

In all honesty, all three of us enjoyed our foray through the land of Target. It is such a pleasure to look at beautiful things, and beautiful things always fill the head with ideas of inspiration and hope. Then, with the tot lagging behind me as she examined everything at her eye-level, and the boy at my side, I announced that we were making a special trip to the thrift store.

Thrift Store Fun.

We quenched our thirst. I rummaged through shelves of random books, finding a few old gems to read the children at bedtime—one of my favorite things to find are out of print children’s books. The boy found a sizable monster truck for $1.99. The tot found herself a stuffed puppy that made her quite happy. We walked out of there to a parking lot full of an eclectic variety of cars. We had successfully consumed, as set out on our shopping trip, and done so away from the pick-up truck deer heads and pop music Lincolns.

It was a good day.