Target

Stacey came home from her full-time job today at 1:30, had some lunch, and then I drove her to her part-time job at 3. (The woman is a workaholic, what can I say?) After I dropped her off, I decided to swing by Target to pick up a few household things. Big mistake. I'm still reeling from the experience.

I've been kind of getting on Stacey's case lately for going a little overboard in the "getting-excited-for-baby" department. I just think she's setting herself up for heartache with every cute cloth diaper she finds online, or adorable crib set she already has picked out. I have refused to let myself go there, and have been really strong about it.


Until I went to Target.


After I picked up the pillow I was looking for, I found my cart being mysteriously pulled towards the baby department. "Don't do it", I told myself. "Just one little peak won't hurt", my defiant self snapped back. I drifted over toward the cribs, the bassinets, the bouncy chairs, the car seats. By then, I was sucked in...I couldn't leave if I wanted to. I went up and down each aisle, looking at diaper bags, burping cloths, rattles and teething rings. That old familiar "baby ache" that I was so good about keeping at bay for the past 2 weeks was boiling up at full force, and it was driving me mad.

"Enough", I said, and decided to leave. But by that time, I had already put that energy out into the universe. And apparently the universe wasn't done with this fun ride quite yet. As soon as I made a made dash to get the hell away from the baby section, I stumbled into the Infant Wear section...row after row of adorable onesies, sleepers, monkey t-shirts, elephant shorts. I was in a freakin' jungle of infant paraphernalia and barely made it out of there alive.

I stumbled to the checkout line, and of course right in front of me was a mother with a baby in a carrier. I moved to the next line. Twins. Staring right at me, as if to say, "You asked for it, Sucker."


I put my head down, paid for this god-forsaken pillow that I now wished I had never stopped to purchase and got the hell out of there. Not before (of course) I practically collided at the front entrance with a woman who had to be in her 11th month of pregnancy.

I hurried to my car like I was being chased by zombies. I literally felt like I was being hunted by anything and everything baby-related. Target, indeed.