Baby-Fest

Dear Stevie,
Alright, where's a girl like me supposed to go to buy toilet paper these days? Or toothpaste? Or mascara? Target has always been my go-to store for, well, pretty much everything, but since you died, I swear it's turned into a mecca of babies and pregnant people. It was probably full of them before, but I guess I never noticed. Seriously, do all the new moms in town call up all the expectant moms in town and decide to all meet up for one big, happy baby-fest at Target every time I go there? I've tried to avoid going during peak "baby hours," and plan most of my Target runs for after-dark, when all these little children should be at home in bed, but no. There's no avoiding them at Target.

That store is absolutely crawling with two types of people I hate seeing most: super happy, attentive moms with adorable babies in their carts (because I am insanely jealous of them), and super crabby, worn-down moms yelling at their young children to "STOP TOUCHING EVERYTHING!" (because they must not realize how lucky they are to have a child to yell at).

I think Target should start banning pregnant women and babies under the age of two between the hours of 9 and 10pm. They could call it the "baby-free zone," or something like that. They could hire a "bouncer" to sit outside the store and enforce this new policy. "I'm sorry, Ma'am, but that child you have looks a bit too young to enter the store at this time. Please come back tomorrow morning. We open at 8."

Just an hour. That's all I ask. One hour in my blessed Target where I can pick up my salad dressing and bath towels and plunger in peace. One hour where I can walk down the aisles without having to stare at the ground, knowing that the second I look up, everything I wanted but do not have, will be staring me right in the face.

It's weird, more than the trips to the zoo, or big family vacations, it's all the random Target runs the two of us will never take together that make me the saddest to think about, Baby. I so wish I was a part of the baby-fest rather than just a jealous by-stander. I wish you were here so much.

Loving you always,
Mom