Conundrum

I've got a serious dilemma.

We're talking big.

As in the decision I make regarding this problem could potentially change the outcome of my whole life.

Oh what I wouldn't give for a sarcasm font.

In the grand scheme of things, what I'm facing is miniscule, but isn't it so strange how the very smallest of things somehow grow into monsters in our lives?

Maybe that is just me.

Anyway. My problem.

My problem is that I am this close to swearing off Target.

I know. I KNOW!

Not Target entirely, just their clothing section.

I have been avoiding the final shutting of my heart-doors toward the colorful and affordable mama-meca, but this morning just might have thrown the last straw on this camel's back.

Most of my wardrobe comes from Target. EVERYTHING that I have purchased since starting my new life as a foster mom has come from Target.

Why?

Well, the major factor is that if I want to shop at a real clothing store it requires weeks of planning and arranging to find a time to go (no sarcasm font needed here). It is much more convenient for me to take a scan of the selection on the first trip to Target in a week, notice what I like, and then quickly grab what I'm interested in on the second trip of the week and try it on.

It breaks the shopping process into two parts, making it manageable with kids in tow, which they almost always are.

The second reason is that with $17 for a cardigan (I confess a deep and librarian-like love of cardigans) I get instant gratification. I don't have to save up for what I want. $20 here or there doesn't seem like a big deal, whereas if I journey to the Loft (see... I should have been a librarian) or Macy's or some darling boutique, I have to go prepared with the reality that a single twenty isn't going to get me ANYTHING and that my stack of twenties is going to get me very little.

But here is the problem. Over the last few months I have purchased a few items from my standby, Target: two dresses, one pair of shorts, a workout top and a few clearance tank tops.

Within the first wash both dresses AND the workout top were destroyed. Gentle cycle, hang dry... the dresses both looked like they disintegrated in water and the sports top lost the entire seam along the bottom.

I exchanged the dresses and brought home new ones that have fared a little better.

But today I was ironing my shorts and realized that again something that I had recently purchased, and taken extra care with, had fallen apart.

Argh!

I'm mad.

The reality is, if I have to replace items every month, I'm not saving time OR money.

Target is the only place I know of that sells the perfect shade of green (bright but not too limey) so I may have to deal with a change in my expectation of color-selections... but friends, I think I'm over the concentric red circles for my clothing.

Am I being too dramatic?

Too harsh?

Expecting too much?

Please talk me off this ledge if I'm out of line because if you don't, this long-time relationship is over!

Tower of Lebanon

I have a big nose.

We all know this.

If you have been silently gawking over the size of my sniffer, let me just make you a little more comfortable by assuring you that, yes, I am aware of the larger protrusion smack dab in the middle of my face.

Andy calls it the Tower of Lebanon. It is a reference from Song of Solomon (do you call it Song of Solomon or Song of Songs? Just wondering) where the Lover is waxing poetic about his Beloved's physical beauty. Andy does it to tease me, but I figure if the wisest king in all of history had a thing for large noses, then I can be at peace with mine.

And I was.

Until today.

Until it betrayed me.

In Target of all places!

My safe and happy place.

The sanctuary of new moms.

It is, truly, a destination for the parents-of-two-and-under crowd. I must have seen a dozen women with infant carriers in their carts today.

I told my mother-in-law

that meaningless trips to the store,

to spend just $3,

are a life saver.

Because it only costs me three dollars,

but it can take up to an hour,

if I really draw it out.

That is an hour that

Jack is contained and entertained

and usually Joey is asleep

(the magic of motion people!).

Heaven.

But I digress.

Back to my nose.

Do you ever have days where you just feel in a dither? You are clumsy and stutter and always feel like your hair is in your face and you keep twitching to try and get it out of your eyes? It was that kind of afternoon for me.

I had taken Jack to Target to pass the time and were checking out. I couldn't find my card at first, and was fumbling through my wallet. Receipts were falling out, my hair was in my face, I was spastically flinging my head to try and make my bangs get out of the way, and I kept forgetting that I was around adults and was using my "mommy" voice to talk to the checker and was nervous laughing and getting almost hysterical when the betrayal happened.

My nose...

dripped.

Not like it started to run and I had to sniff.

It out of the blue, just dripped.

One giant droplet from my oversized nostril, onto the floor.

The woman in line behind me actually gasped.

Well, the woman was actually my sister. And what she really said was, "OH!"

But still, a drop big enough to be perceived a full cart length away? Imagine the view the checker got?!

After more fumbling (what do you even say at that point?) I gratefully left the store. Lizzie and I didn't discuss it then, but later, when I texted her she said, "That was amazing! I don't think I have seen that happen to any one except grandma before!"

Great. I used to have my nose associated with a biblical beauty. Now it is just a drippy-old-lady feature.

Not exactly what I was going for.

I hope it was a one-time offense because I'm pretty sure I can't handle it if this becomes a regular occurrence.