confessions of a shop-a-holic a decluttering coach probably shouldn't make

I can’t remember the last time I was in a regular Target alone.

We have a Polly Pocket size one that we pop into next to my son’s school. The “city” design has approximately 1.5 shelves designated to home goods but is adequate for pizza nights and the occasional ice cream sandwich and carton of eggs run.

On this particular trip, I was on the hunt for a faux garland for our kitchen nook. I’ve always wanted one for the holidays, but since we don’t really have any mantles (or doorways for that matter) it never worked out.

As I descended (and yes this is totally a city thing – going up or down to get into stores), I suddenly had a flash back to my former self, years ago when my kids were young, and the temptation that the home section in particular held for me.

My son and I used to bop around Target in the winter time – him to the music and me to Joanna Gaines and dollar day treasures. Years later after my daughter was born, she and I would hang out in the Starbucks cafe section during the fall, me sipping my two shots of espresso over ice trying to get work done while she took her morning nap, and her brother finished his half day of 3k down the road.

I blinked back to reality as I located the perfect garland for our space a few aisles from the entrance.

Easy peasy lemon squeezy as my students would say.

“But you’re in Target,” I thought. “You can’t just find what you came for and leave. Take a look around.”

And that’s when I discovered that a LOT more had changed over the past years than the fact that my children no longer fit in the basket of the shopping cart.

I’m convinced that whoever designs the Target Dollar Days section has moms and teachers pegged. When I first became a mom I hadn’t found my way into local buy nothing groups or staked a claim on a neighbors hand-me-down pile, so the dollar days were crucial to my survival.

Two piece puzzles with lower and upper case letters, bubble wands, felt food, games for bus trips – teacher Khrystyne of yester-year fell for those things hook line and sinker.

But as a I stood in the self-check out line, I discovered that I had totally skipped the section and had not missed it at all. .

“When did this section lose its enticement for me?” I couldn’t help but wonder as I scanned my garland.

I can’t be for sure. I mean that’s kind of how life works right? We grow, we change, we morph – so slowly that we don’t even notice it until BAM – we are a totally different person with different instincts and desires.

But if I could wager a guess about when the queen of the dollar days’s crown began to slip, it would this.