A Thank You Letter to My Therapist

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Every mom needs an outlet. My outlet gives me peace, time to just be alone with my thoughts and ends up costing me a fortune.  These are only some of the reasons why I consider “her” to be my therapist. Most people know “her” as Target. Or as I, and many others, like to refer to her as, Tar-jay.target couch

Like every good and lasting relationship, ours has really evolved over the years. Pre-kids I would visit her and to be honest, I took advantage of all she had to offer. I would hurry in and out getting what I needed. Maybe one of those adorable bikinis size XS, a few decorative items for my single apartment, a bag of granola.  I took, and she gave.

After the first kid I stupidly thought, “oh how fun it will be to take my child to Target with me”.  I envisioned him sitting in the nice red buggy, quietly looking and enjoying a leisurely stroll through the aisles.  After wiping the buggy down from handles to wheels with those nice sanitizing wipes that they offer at the door, I then proceeded to put on the “oh so necessary” grocery cart seat cover, God forbid my baby touch any germs. We would browse around 4 aisles before he would start flailing around like a fish out of water for whatever reason, which would then force me to find the baby food aisle full of puffs and snack packs to feed him. My pristine cart was covered in goldfish crumbs, tears and sweat.  And some of that was even my baby’s.  Our time with Target lasted about 20 minutes tops.  20 intense, miserable minutes.

target workout

Now after the third kid, Target has become sacred to me. I only go alone. Period. There are no exceptions to this rule.  I look forward to getting there and grabbing a Starbucks. There is nothing more peaceful to me these days than walking around Target with my hot, non-microwaved coffee.  The dollar aisle is my first stop. It’s truly amazing what you can get for $1-2 dollars. I just load up on things to keep as emergency distractions for the kids.  Those XS bikinis may be a thing of the past, but they keep me motivated, and ding dang those pajamas are cute! I flip through the magazines.  Heck, I may even do a little workout or catch up on my hollywood gossip in the furniture section. Of course no trip to Target would be complete without a walk through home décor, just what I always wanted: a marble rhino head!  It has truly become therapy for me. I walk through just browsing and buying. 

Approaching the check out I do a quick buggy run through. A few clothing items, kid necessities, a pair of new throw pillows for couch, and basically a bunch of Sh&% that I don’t need and didn’t go there for. Here is the point, or points.  First, I leave feeling like I have more clarity in my life, am more organized, and am motivated to start getting into shape after three kids. Secondly, I come home happy. My husband knows not to ask what all is in the 27 Target bags he has to unload from the car. Lastly, we all need a break at times. Whether you leave with a full trunk load or empty handed, you always leave with a little more sanity. Thank you Target, you are more than a store, you are a friend.

 

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