I really couldn’t be more excited about what I’m about to tell y’all.
The new Target opened yesterday. And it’s less than five miles from my house. And it has a Starbucks in it. If you walked outside around 9:30 a.m. yesterday morning and thought you heard the Hallelujah chorus, there’s a good chance it was me when I pulled into the Target parking lot.
I didn’t even need anything at Target. I just wanted to see it.
And here’s the verdict:
It looks pretty much like every other Target out there.
And just like I do every time I walk in a Target, I managed to walk out of there with stuff I didn’t even really know I needed. Except for the thirty new plastic hangers I bought. I was in dire need of more hangers. And P thought he was hilarious when I pulled them out of my Target sack and he said, “Way to go, Jen Hatmaker. Way to reduce the clothing in your closet.”
But this isn’t really about Target except for now it is. I really wanted to tell you about my day of shopping with Caroline on Monday. Mainly because I want to use it as a reference point the next time I decide it’s a good idea to take her to the mall.
It all started on Sunday morning. A cold front blew in and I went to her closet to find something for her to wear and remembered that she’d pretty much outgrown everything from last winter because she’s growing at a rate of two inches a week. But I managed to find a pair of jeans that were long enough as long as she tucked them into her almost-too-small boots and then pulled out one of two long sleeve tops that still come to her wrists.
So on Sunday afternoon we decided to tackle the boots first. She needed a good pair of cowboy boots for the ranch and just to wear around. We headed to Cavender’s Boot City because if you can’t find boots at a place with Boot City in the name then I can’t help you. And, sure enough, she found her dream boots after we were only in the store for about three minutes.
It was so easy.
And since that didn’t take much time, I decided we should run by Gap to look for new jeans. Other than the fact that we got into a small argument over whether or not she had to actually try them on in the store, it went fairly well.
(YES. YES YOU DO HAVE TO TRY THEM ON. Your father is the only person I buy clothes for without him trying them on. Mainly because he only goes in clothing stores about once every three years.)
(Please note: Cabelas and Academy do not count as clothing stores in my mind.)
We ended up with two pairs of jeans and a denim jacket. Sadly we didn’t end up with the other fifty-eight things I thought were darling because “that’s just not my style”.
But I still felt like she needed some new tops and maybe a sweater or two. Maybe even (BLESS MY HEART.) a dress. That’s why I decided it was worth it to spend the first half of Monday shopping at La Cantera. I figured Nordstrom wouldn’t do us wrong.
And it didn’t. There were dozens of cute tops and fun little skirts and jeans in all colors. But we only left there with one shirt because “these just aren’t my style”.
So we headed to Zara because it’s always been my ace in the hole. They have the best kids’ clothes and we’ve always found stuff there. Plus, Caroline always tells me she wants clothes that look like the things I wear and Zara has a bunch of things I’d wear if they came in my size.
I held up leopard print leggings with darling tunics. Eighty-four different white shirts (you know how I love a white shirt), fur vests, denim dresses and funky t-shirts.
(That’s nothing in Spanish. Because I am muy bilingual.)
I stood back and just let her look through the racks to see if she might have more success if she wasn’t hindered by my obvious love of something.
Ultimately she didn’t like any clothes in any of the stores and I had to bite my lip until I thought I’d pass out. And the worst part is I never could get her to articulate what “her style” is. Best I can tell based on past outfit choices, it’s a cross between what Taylor Swift would wear and a hobo.
And you can’t really find that at GapKids.
We left the mall with two shirts. And I’ve decided that it’s not my problem if she only has three things to wear all winter long.
Let’s just hope those three things look good with cowboy boots because those are the only shoes that come in her style at the moment besides her tennis shoes.
After the mall we went and picked up one of her friends so they could play that afternoon. But first I had to run a few quick errands, including a stop at one of her classmate’s homes. I left the girls in the car while I ran to the front door to pick something up and looked back and saw that Caroline had rolled down the back window and was hanging out of it.
As I walked back to the car I must have said, “GET BACK IN THE CAR” at least five times. My patience was at an all-time low and I thought my head might explode, but I really try to avoid going all Miss Hannigan when she has a friend with her. I hate to frighten children other than my own.
So I said, “GET BACK IN THE CAR” one final time as I opened my car door and got in the car. And I assumed that SIX TIMES of your mother telling you to get back in the car would suffice. But I was wrong. Because I shut my car door and immediately heard a piercing scream.
I had slammed the tip of her middle finger in my car door.
Which led to that whole motherhood dilemma of “I feel bad that you’re hurt” versus “You kind of had it coming because you didn’t listen”.
Fortunately it was just the very end of her finger. And I know it must have hurt like monkeys fixing your hair but we put ice on it right away and it honestly looks better than I thought it was going to look.
And that was my Monday.
Which is why I came home after soccer practice and ate a huge piece of chocolate cake for dinner. Because sometimes you just need butter and chocolate and flour.
And maybe a Target that’s only five minutes away.