Archive for the Target Tag

In Which Reluctant Mother Names All The Lego Guys After Alcoholic Beverages And Finds Some Redemption

Just when I was about to lose my parenting shit and send everyone off to some sort of structured, beneficial, better-than-I-can-provide learning environment. .  .{AKA PRESCHOOL!}. . . So I could clean up cat barf in peace:  Mac: [Pointing at floor] “You got a. . .a. . .poop?”  Me:  “That’s cat vomit.”  Mac:  “Cat vomit?  Cat vomit!  hahahahahahaha!  Cat Vomit!
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The Baby Won’t Eat, The Toddler Won’t Nap, and The Dog Has a Drinking Problem

Things have been busier than usual.  Easter, friends, travel. . .trying to get stuff done around the house. . .minor car issues. . . Anyway, it’s been a lot of ripping around – with two kids in tow.  It’s making me exhausted and I’m pretty sure we no longer have any semblance of routine. And that’s making me even MORE
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Shoplifting Requires Intent, Right?

It’s been a long time since I passed the Bar. Or actually GONE to a bar. Sigh. You know where I am A. LOT. these days? TARGET. Yep.  That shiny new Target just down the street.  Its beautiful red bullseye beckons almost daily. My Husband has the shameful receipts to prove it. WHAT?  The kid needs formula. . .might as
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Wiper Blades & The GD Confirmation Class: Just Another Walk in the Park

At some point several weeks ago, I realized my windshield wipers were shot.  One of them had the rubbery stuff (technical term) hanging off of it. Annoying. But not annoying enough for me to take the initiative to remedy it. So I mentioned it to Chris. And then we both promptly forgot about it. But then Monday was all kinds
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Will The REAL Wubby Please Stand Up?

Yet again I did something I THOUGHT was kinda’ clever at the time I was doing it.  That should probably be written on my tombstone as certainly this sort of thinking will be the death of me. Anyway, when we were expecting Mac, I picked up several big packs of those Microfiber car detailing cloths in the automotive section of
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If the Shoe Doesn’t Fit, You Must Return It. . .

A few weeks ago, it became apparent Mac was in need of a new pair of shoes.  Now, we hadn’t reached the critical point of having to fold his toes under his foot to get his current pair of shoes on, but we were getting close. These sorts of purchases stress me out.  I know my Husband wants the most
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Stuff We Love: B. Woofer

If you visit frequently, you know that I’m anti-kid-junk-overload.  When we learned we were expecting, we agreed we would really try to focus more on experiences and making memories rather than continuing to mindlessly purchase things as we (ahem I) had been doing for the better part of our adult lives. We try to spend a lot of time with
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Reluctant Mother’s Ego Crushed Yet Again

When you are pregnant, or contemplating pregnancy, people who are already parents will blab on and on and on about the magnitude of love you will have for your children. It sounds all cupcakes and puppies and gag. But then you have a baby. Oh. My. God. That. (lopsided head, red, wrinkly, squinty-eyed) Beautiful. Creature. Bring on the cupcakes, puppies,
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Stuff We Love: Cafeteria Trays

You know what I like?  Ok, you read this blog primarily to hear me rant about stuff I don’t like.  I get it.  Disenchantment and sarcasm follows, I swear. I like when my food looks nearly as great as it tastes.  I’m no culinary pro.  I am certainly not a self-proclaimed foodie.  However, I think we can all agree a
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For Better, Or Worse, You Covetous Wench

Or perhaps more accurately defined as a trip to Target with my fiscally (militant) responsible Husband. It was raining.  The birding looked bleak.  We really did have a few errands and chores that we couldn’t justify postponing any longer especially given the weather.  So we packed up Mac and headed to that lovely hamlet of retail and sprawl know as
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