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Tag Archives: Target

For the Members of the Public – you’re welcome

2 Sep

Wednesday we went to Target.

I know, shocking.

The girls and I had gone out, done a couple things, and I needed things like eye drops, Keurig cleaner, and maybe new shoes for Maura. Target was chosen for its ability to give us all those things, plus maybe a Starbuck’s if we were all good.

Starbuck’s never happened. Instead, by the end of the trip, I was opening a bottle of Coke I grabbed while in line for the register, and said to Miriam “Momma’s gonna pour some rum in this Coke when we get home.”

#keepingitreal

Maura had a meltdown coupled with a battle of wills. Hers vs Mine. Damn fecking back to school section, the one that caused a serious meltdown the first time we saw it, but that we had overcome and were able to navigate, struck one last time in its death throes. To sum up – she wanted a backpack, I said no, cue 20 minute power struggle.

Several minutes into this, I called Josh for help because Maura was now hugging the backpack to her chest and I was determined to stick to my “I said we’re not getting the backpack.” Sure, I could have backpeddled, but I’m trying to teach her – like I taught all my other kids – that we can’t get every thing every time, especially if we have at least five of those things in our bedroom at home. So every time she put it in the cart, I’d take it out, put it on the shelf, and say “I said no.”

When Josh got there, we were actually right by the doors. Josh gave her the “I hear you’re not listening to Mom” speech, and told her she had to leave the store. We left Miriam with the cart, and I escorted Josh escorting Maura to the car. All the way, I would say things like “We have to leave because you’re not listening.” and “I said I wasn’t buying that for you, and I’m not.” and basically calmly narrating what we were doing and why in a tone that carried.

Not for me.

Not for Maura.

No, I was doing that for you, the public. You, the group of four adults catching up by the doors who paused to look at the scene we were creating. You, the single guy who paused to let us go ahead of him through the doors (btw, thanks). You, the couple walking in. You, the store associates who looked our way.

“We’re going to the car because you won’t listen to Mom. Mom said no.”

I walked with my husband not because he’s incapable of handling Maura, but to give him the presence of another female as he escorted his daughter, who was digging her heels in literally, to the car. A man escorting a teenage girl screaming to a car looks bad. A man and woman escorting a teenage girl screaming looks more parental. I wasn’t walking with him to help, I was walking with him to make sure someone didn’t call security on my husband and daughter.

Because you are all watching, you people in public. You all stop and turn and watch for a moment or two or three, and you watch us. Why? I don’t know, because we’re making a scene. Because the scene she’s making isn’t socially acceptable at her age and height? Because you’re curious or just plain nosy. Because it’s something to tell someone later. Because you want to make sure she’s okay?

I think mostly it’s because you’re nosy. So here’s some facts –

It’s a meltdown. A meltdown isn’t behaving badly, it’s losing control. My job with my daughter is to help her regain control. In this case, as in many, removing her from the situation is the most helpful – she doesn’t have the reminder of what caused the meltdown in front of her.

No, I can’t predict these things. That instance – just happened. She had been golden and responsive to my redirections just moments before. I think the feeding frenzy in the school section set her off. So really, public, this was your fault, not hers.

It’s part of Maura’s learning curve, so we roll with it. Yes, that means sometimes, it happens in public. No, that doesn’t mean I’ll stop taking her out because how the heck is she supposed to learn if she’s a recluse? Not to mention…

No one helped us.

Not one offer of help, or a kind word. There were a couple moms who told their kids to keep moving, nothing to see here, but there was also one mom who didn’t notice her child laughing and pointing at my daughter (she got a stern look and a head shake of “No” from me though.) There were a lot of you going around us, giving us a quick glance or three, and then you went into the backpack section to buy backpacks, thanks a fecking lot for that. Okay, you didn’t know, but inadvertently, you didn’t make it easier.

No one made it easier on us, so why do we have to make it easier on you?

I told my therapist about this incident. She asked how I felt during it all.

“Well, I had to remain calm.” I said.

“Yes, that’s a given. But how did you feel, knowing all those people around you were watching?”

“Honestly? I ignore them. I’ve learned to put on blinders.”

My therapist was impressed.

But I have. I’ve put on blinders to most of the looks, the stares, the whispers and glances. I’ve had to, because none of you matter in that moment. This time was harder because we were in a main aisle, and people had to walk around us. I caught more than I usually do.

Besides, I don’t need to see you there to know that you are there, watching, judging. Everything I do in public to help my daughter is tinted with the personae I put on for your sake. The loving mother not showing frustration – that’s for you, the public. The wife walking with her husband and daughter – for you all. The calm mother stating firmly but never ever angrily how we have to leave the store because we can’t scream in the store – all for you, Members of the Public.

If I had my way, I’d probably be more “OMG kid, really? Get up off that floor now, move!” But I’m not allowed to do that. I’m also not allowed to sit on the floor and cry with her. Just like I’m not allowed to open up a bottle of wine and drink it through the store, even though the store sells wine. I have to embrace the role of saint in public when my daughter’s having a meltdown because my daughter is disabled, and parents of disabled kids are either saints or monsters.

So I’m a friggen saint.

And most of you don’t even appreciate it.

 

 

 

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She’s as crafty as the rest of us

23 Jul

Today, I bribed Maura into taking a shower by promising Starbuck’s. She prefers baths over showers, but I didn’t want to devote our whole morning into luring her out of said bath tub, so bribery it is.

Okay, selfish bribery because I like Starbuck’s too.

So we get all cleaned and groomed and brush our teeth and do our hair, and then she wanders to my room, comes back, and hands me my sandals.

Then shows me a receipt.

“Look! Starbuck’s!”

But it’s a Target receipt.

“That’s Target.” I say.

“Yes.” Maura agrees.

Realization dawns. “You want to go to Target…which has a Starbuck’s.”

“YES!” Maura replies happily.

“You just conned me into taking you to Target. Wow. You’re craftier than even I give you credit for.”

Collin, sitting by us, pipes in. “Well, she IS part of this family.”

Yes…yes she is…and we’re a shifty lot…

But since I abandoned Maura with her brother for three days while I went to a writer’s conference, I guess I shall indulge the girl. Even if she’s a bit shifty in her ways. It’ll be a sacrifice, going to Target AND Starbuck’s, but these are the lengths a Mom will go to ensure her child’s happiness.

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Dear Target

6 Jul

You know I love you. You and me, we’re bffs4evah.

However…

Nine days ago was our last day of school. NINE DAYS. We’re just now getting used to our summer vacation routine. Needless to say, I was highly unprepared to see ALL the “Back to School!” stuff out at our local Target.

I should’ve seen it coming. Land’s End has already sent me their “Back to School” catalog (which arrived a week before school was over). You started clearance-ing out summer stuff a couple weeks ago, which led to my hasty buying of lawn chairs and outdoor lighting. You’ve been slowing putting up those “dorm life” end caps.

Still, I didn’t expect to see the fully stocked school supply section today.

And I had Maura with me.

Thus began the Great Backpack Struggle 2017. We go through this every year. Maura sees that wall of backpacks and becomes a bit rabid. Backpacks are her thing. HER THING. She just got a new one two weeks ago, after I smuggled out several old busted ones from her room, and hanging up the four she had left. She’s been very happy with her new backpack.

Until two hours ago, when she desperately needed a NEW backpack.

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I said no.

She tried to put it in the cart.

I said no, put it back.

She threw the backpack at me.

I told her we were leaving.

There was a meltdown. We spread disability awareness in that particular store. Loudly. Along several aisles, as she was all “Fine! I’m leaving!” and stormed down a few aisles.

But she calmed down. It was very impressive how she pulled it back together. So we got the cart, left by the backpacks, and despite a few longing glances towards the backpacks, we got the heck out of that section.

Oh sure, we ended up with a Poppy from Trolls doll, which made the world better, and is cool because Maura didn’t have a Poppy doll and is obsessed with Trolls, but that’s not the point.

The point is – why is back to school stuff out NINE DAYS after school let out? Seriously? Why? We’re all broke here from end of school stuff and trying to buy all the summer stuff just as summer was finally starting here in the PNW. Now we have to nab up all the pencils and notebooks because they’ll be all gone come August 15th, even though school doesn’t even begin until after Labor Day in September, and some of us won’t even know what we need until the, but by then it’ll be too late to buy school supplies and the Christmas lights will be out…

I know that some of this is being location-specific. I know that some areas of the United States have been out of school since the latter part of May. And that you’re running a large corporation that has to suit the needs of all states. Whether or not that timeline suits everyone involved.

All I know is that for the next six weeks, I can’t take Maura to her favorite store because I don’t need to deal with a meltdown over backpacks every. single. time.

It’s not me, it’s you.

I’ll catch you on the flipside!

 

 

 

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