Target's big Father's Day fail

The Friday before Father's Day SHOULD BE a proactive time to shop for Father's Day cards. Or at least it should be plenty of time for a busy working mother to settle on a $7 card with some sort of dancing monkey or gas-passing reference that will make all small boys, their fathers, grandfathers, pops, papas, pawpaws and papis laugh heartily before digging into a giant gifted vat of honey-roasted peanuts and crossword puzzle books. 

But when I arrived at Target on the Friday before Father's Day, rushing in with my shopping basket and tick-tock-tick-tock mentality a mother always has in the early minutes of an hour-long, $200 trip to the store, I realized I was neither proactive nor in plenty of time for card-buying. 

The prominent display of Father's Day cards was almost empty. Almost. There were four, maybe, five cards left. TOTAL. Not four, maybe five, sentiments. Not four, maybe five, varieties. Not four, maybe five, flavors. Four, maybe five, cards. TOTAL.

The cards were the boring kind with too much reading for the men in my family, and more importantly, zero dancing monkeys. There was not a dancing animal of any kind. Not even one that plays an obnoxious song obnoxiously loudly and goes on for an obnoxiously long period of time after the loved father has not-read any words inside the obnoxious card. There were only sailboats-without-a-sailor cards and oversized dark brown cards with giant, gold, cursivey fonts going on and on about life lessons and whatnot, and nothing to do with body fluids or hogging the remote. 

I stood perplexed in front of these four, maybe five, cards, wondering if I could possibly make any of these horrible cards work for my father, or hell, my son's father.  I slowly shuffled down the display, hoping to scrounge up a card someone hid or even one missing a properly sized envelope.

And then I noticed something strange.

Curiously, just feet from the Father's Day wasteland was a prosperous, populated community of cards -- for Mother's Day. A month ago. MOTHER'S DAY.

There were plenty of cards and lots of variety -- from the sappy and over-texted to boozy and oversexted. There were loads of hilariiii plays on the ways mamas survive those crazy kids and pretty pictures of little girls on swings and mod color-blocked cards for the design-y, styley, less emotional maternal situations. Oh, and a few half-nakey men. There were lots of options for moms of all kinds to celebrate Mother's Day five weeks ago.

I was boggled, yes, and I was also empty-handed. I turned to the lost-looking lady next me.

"I'm not afraid to duke it out for the last of these bad Father's Day cards," I told her, smiling to let her in on the ridiculousness of it all (and also disarm her from my brute seriousness).

Her eyes widened, her eyebrows arched over her big glasses.

"WHEW!" she let out. "This is CRAZY. I was going to get a special card for my son who just had his first baby. But...oh, well. Maybe next year."

To that lady, I'd say: Rather than abandoning the overpriced written sentiment, you could have chosen the half-nakey guy Mother's Day card for her new-father son (not judging, just saying).

Or perhaps you could have done what I did and haul my sort-of-proactive ass down to the grocery store a few blocks away, where the display was picked over but there were still a few dancing animals in the aisle.

To Target, you were nowhere near the mark on this one. I was so out of sorts by the complete lack of stock a few days out that I didn't even have time to whine about why there need to be far more stepdad/mom's boyfriend/father-like figure cards on the shelves (and that indicates things are pretty dire, friends). 

I love it that you had a plethora of Mother's Day cards still in your inventory. And certainly, there are some mamas who pull double duty and deserve to be lauded on Father's Day, too. But maybe focus more on stocking and restocking cards for the actual holiday we're celebrating this month, rather than last May or eleven months from now. 

And lastly, Target, I found 14 things I didn't realize I needed on that trip that was supposed to focus solely on Father's Day-card purchases. But other than that $78 I spent, I am really glad I didn't hand 21 extra bucks over for cards you didn't have. 

Oh, and know that I did find a perfect sing-y card. With underpants on it. Singing, dancing underpants. With googly eyes. On that very same day, just two days away from Father's Day. So it wasn't me and my harried schedule and last-ish-minute purchases. It was you. You and your mommy card real estate overflow and Father's Day tumbleweeds.

Board breaker [video]

I love to watch him kick. 

That was the feeling, and the words I wish I'd had as I watched him flow through his forms and push his heel high into a kid-sized padded target and as he turned, slightly in awe of himself, and ran back to his seat after breaking a board in one fell swoop.

It was his second belt testing in nine months at this Tae Kwon Do studio, the place where we came after sadly and tearfully and apprehensively leaving the comfort zone of our own studio. E was six short months and three belt tests away from being a black belt there. But when the instruction fell into pieces, I had to take my boy's hand and walk out of there. In this studio, he was given a new belt, a much lower rank, and had to re-learn many moves and master a different style of kicking, counting, even standing among his peers. 

He has come far since last September, when I pulled him gently toward the door of the studio, talked with him many nights about building courage, building muscle, having the heart of a lion. 

Now, twice a week, with the same serious face that is framed by hair that is just a little longer, legs that have also stretched out and a uniform that gets smaller by the week, he turns and turns and turns his body in practice for each new form and stance and kick. Now, he's found his place in the line of kids in the studio.

When I read this beautiful, poignant post by Hands Free Mama today, I smiled as I cried. She wrote the words I felt pounding in my mothering pride but hadn't turned into a sentence while I watched my boy glide through his testing. (I am grateful, overwhelmed, at peace having a grasp on the words now. And that they are so simple makes them feel even more true.)

I love to watch him kick.

I love to capture that moment of confidence with my camera.

I love to gasp at how high and fast he can throw his body.

I love to watch his legs and arms in a blur of speed and determination.

I love the look of surprise and accomplishment when he gets where his mind wanted his body to go.

I love that we've made it through these months, that he kept crossing the threshhold to this studio, even when it was hard and scary and new. 

I love that he has earned these belts with the strength in his body and brain, but mostly, with the muscle that is his big, beating heart.

I love to watch him kick.

(And you will hear it here as I cannot keep my exclamation in.)

What do you love to watch your child do?

Other People's Words Wednesday: Like the moon

We share a love of Rumi's words, the Not Boyfriend and I. Sometimes, when life gets complicated or silence between us has turned to tension, I send him a meditation. And most of those times, Rumi wrote it. 

This week, there's no complications or tension in our silence. But I have a feeling he needs to read a reminder of the tender kind of love, that a connection would serve him well in his absence, his exhaustion, his focus on all that is complicated and tense around him.

This is the meditation I chose for us both this time, no longer secretly. Three days to go.