Y’all. I have some sad news.

My kids ruined Target for me.

I know. I know. I’ll wait a minute for that to soak in. And, for you to regain composure.

My kids ruined Target for me.

There was a time, before children, where Target was the answer to any question. Even for awhile after they were both born, it was my happy place. Going to Target at least once a week, usually twice, kept us occupied and me sane during my husbands six month deployment. But, as the boys have grown older… and, squirmier, Target has started to lose its joy and become more of a chore. It’s devesating, but I could see it coming.

Yup. It happened today. My children ruined Target for me. Today was the final straw. They struck out. And, I declared to my husband and the universe that I am never bringing my kids with me to Target ever again.

I’ll start in the beginning. Their first strike.

Containing a 1 and a 3-year-old, is less than ideal. Say you get the multiple seat cart. Have you ever pushed that thing around? It’s literally 2 carts in one. Maneuvering it is a pain. Like how am I supposed to gracefully back track when that clearance candle catches my eye after I’ve already pasted? You can’t is the answer.

Or, if you have to use a regular cart. The three-year old has to either walk or sit in the main part. If he walks you’re saying no every two seconds. And, if they sit they are taking up valuable space. Then, my one year old doesn’t even stayed contained in the cart anymore. He turns his little body around and can slip right out of the buckle.

Strike two

They have their own Target moments. There are so many toys to touch. And, so much candy they want. They want to look at all the things need. I get it, I do. But, this is my time. Chances are, we are already going to buy you something for you anyways. So, let me be in charge of the things we look at!

Strike three.

There’s just too much saying no. Target is therapy. It’s relaxing. It’s a happy place. I should not feel frustrated and be breaking a sweat from trying to keep my boys in line when I’m at Target.

These crazy little monkeys took away my happy. And, turned me into a crazy lady. I just don’t want to be a crazy lady in the beautiful aisles of Target!

Sorry not sorry, little boys. You are no longer welcome to go to Target with me. You struck out. Three strikes you’re done.

For a couple weeks, until I need some mid-week therapy and don’t have anybody to leave the boys with.