For the Love of the Cart

I have a confession to make. I'm addicted to Target. I love taking 20 mundane minutes to walk the aisles with a cart and convince myself that "I need that." And then 20 minutes turns into an hour and I walk out with a new toothbrush holder and a Lip Smackers flavor I haven't tried yet and I'm giddy. I loved going to Target mid-morning on a weekday when I was on maternity leave. I wheeled my baby around with the stay-at-home moms and pretended to be one of them. Acting the part. Knowing they could see right through to my inexperience -- my newbie-ness. "Welcome to the real world," they must have thought, seeing me study the bottle selection and gaze wide-eyed at exersaucers. Of course I'm talking about the first time around. The second maternity leave left no time for Target grazing. Nurse this one, chase that one, nurse this one, chase that one...became my rhythm. Now I chase both. Constantly running, all of us -- at home, at play, at work, at school...keep up, keep up, keep up...my new rhythm. But not at Target. There, on the smooth clean white linoleum, I stroll, with my red cart. I let myself fall out of step with the rhythm. I take time to ponder those Lip Smackers flavors and whether it's time for a new throw pillow. And I love every minute of it.