Target

At the end of each day I take a minute and ponder upon the coming and goings of the day. Often this mental slideshow happens while I'm watching TV with Ben. After 5 years of marriage he now understands that I rarley watch TV while I'm staring at the TV. It used to bother him when he would say "did you see that?" and I would respond "no, I wasn't watching" all the while I had been sitting next to him with eyes forward feigning couch potato stance. Now, he just looks at me and shakes his head saying "look at that mind work". These are the moments that I reflect on the pros and cons of the day, things I have to do tomorrow, mentally plan out my sharing time lessons or make mental list of things I need to do for primary, basically all the things I don't have time to do with a very needy child hanging off my pants while I am making dinner, folding clothes, and making phone calls (all at the same time). But I digress, today this quiet time came early as I but Alyssa down for a nap and tried to get some emails out. I thought I would share with you all the reinnactment that happened in the quiet recesses of my mind.

Alyssa and I had to run to Target today to get just a few things including deodorant because I have forgotten it every day this week and my bottle is quite low. Target seems to enrage Alyssa like a bull during a bull fight. Maybe it is the red and tan colors everywhere, maybe the buzzing of the employees talking on walkie-talkies which Alyssa feels strongly should be hers. And maybe it is because everytime we go in there she remembers the one time--long ago--that Ben bought a slushie and shared with her and the memory of sweet, icy nector is hard to resist. Mostly likely it is the combination of all these things but the end result is her screaming "me, me, me" and tearing at my shirt. Today was no different. I vowed to get in and out so I raced directly to the pharmacy. I took one lap trying to ignore the screams of a pampered child, then paused and realized I must missed the aisle. I tried again. No avail. A third time. Empty handed, again. The fourth lap was narrated by my quiet cursing and begging Alyssa to stop screaming. Finally I thought I saw a kind helpful face pop up from behind the Pharmacy desk. "Can I help you find something" she asked with a smile on her face. I explained that I had been looking for the deodorant and was sure it was right under my nose but I couldn't find it. "Oh" she replied "They moved the deodorant to the infant and child clothing section" I stared blankly thinking that she must be kidding. "Can I help you with anything else?" Dumb-founded I replied without thinking "Well, that makes sense because everyone would look there for deodorant". The sarcasm in my voice was not appreciated by the part time Target employee and she let loose a string of venomous words while chicken necking her head and wagging her finger at me.

At this moment I was at a crossroads. Do I come back at her with all of the frustration and anger I felt inside only worsened by the relentless begging child that is now trying to climb out of the cart. Or do I find composure and exit gracefully from the situation. Just as I was about to say " who do you think you are?" (yes my dear family--those were the exact words floating around in my head) I saw my daughters tear filled eyes looking up at me and her small hands reaching for my embrace. At that very moment I felt an overwhelming calm come over me. I made direct eye contact with the pharmacy tech and simply said "thanks for the help" then I exited the volitile situation with my head held high, Alyssa on my hip, and a smile on my face.

The deodorant was indeed on a shelf in the child clothing section. I found it, bought it, and left Target.

In this moment I am so thankful for an active thinking mind that is capable of observing the world around me and more importantly, ignoring the nasty thoughts that circle the verbal drain. A small defeat today, and I will admit that I don't always win the battle but I am confident that the war will continue to be in my favor.