The Land of Misfit Mommies

You know that claymation series that's always on at Christmas? I can't remember if it's "Rudolph" or "Santa Clause Is Coming To Town." Any-who, in one of those movies there's a land called The Land Of Misfit Toys where all broken and unwanted toys go to be together with their shared defects. In real life, it's called Target. I refer to it as The Land Of Misfit Mommies. On any given weekday morning at Target, you'll find on average 30 mothers walking around in their baseball caps and sweats with JUICY written on the butt, with their babies and toddlers in tow.

I laugh at this every single time I go. There's not one single man in the store who isn't an employee. It's just a bunch of us moms, nodding at each other in acknowledgement of one another with a silent understanding that we know exactly what the other is going through, because we too have a toddler with us who is crying for an ICEE, or a baby who isn't at all thrilled with being belted into the cart. Like myself, these mommies appreciate The Dollar Spot for allowing us to buy our kids a "treat" without actually spending more than a dollar (a win/win for everyone). Once a week I make this trip to Tar-Shay to buy nothing in particular, but to seek out other misfits like myself. Those who, like me, have dolled their kids up in Gymboree outfits but didn't have time to pluck those hairs poking through between their eyes. Or spent 20 minutes combing their little girl's hair, but have half hazardly thrown theirs up in a pony tail. We shop.... in solidarity. We shop.... as sisters.

To my fellow Target mommies, I salute you! See ya next week.

VIDEO of my kiddies and husband dancing. Love them.