Some things you may not know about me, besides now having the hots for some of the Fredericksburg City police officers: I love to shop, I like reading historical fiction novels, and, if given the chance, I can sit on my butt all day and binge watch Netflix shows. Furthermore, while I can put the “L” in “lazy” I also enjoy running which might make me a little crazy and, speaking of crazy, I have a BS of psychology and, as such, am pretty open about mental health. It also means I have the ability and knowledge to be empathetic but rarely am, I should know how to raise children but I don’t, and I can look back at myself and my frame of mind and have a sense of humor.
Anyway, both Marcus and I are just slightly panicked. Unlike me, who is used to such feelings as anxiety, depression, and stress, Marcus has lived his 39 years in a blissful state, with nary a care. Recently, however, he’s been feeling the stress of our lives. Not only is he facing the reconstruction project of his nightmares dreams, he is starting a new job, selling a home, moving in with his mother-in-law (hi, mom!), helping his young daughters cope with moving and starting a new school, and attempting to keep his wife sane (sorry bud, lost cause).
I, on the other hand, have been in a state of panic since the day we purchased Sligo and it only got worse yesterday while at Target. Marcus, the girls, and I headed out to what should be a mecca for any female over the age of four months (and really, it may be younger but it’s about this time that the Target bulls eye becomes more clear and a conditioned response). Anyway, we did our back-to-school shopping which is stressful in itself as items are thrown willy-nilly into the basket and I start to lose sense of what we actually need and what is something the girls think is cute and it doesn’t matter how cute and sparkly it is but the teacher specifically asked for a black and white marble composition notebook and by golly that’s what we’re going to get so please put that thing back! *deep breath in, deep breath out*
So, after what felt like an eternity in which nothing was accomplished, the four of us (because somehow I hadn’t killed anybody and buried their body under the millions of leftover boxes of non-sharpened #2 pencils) made our way to the produce section of our new-to-us Super Target. Or is it Ultra Target? Mega Target? I have no idea. I do know they need to get their shit together because the two Williamsburg Targets put this particular store to shame in hospitality, organization, and cleanliness. Which, to be honest, aren’t those kind of like, Target’s three main mantras and 100% why I don’t shop at Wal-Mart? Anyway, it was this realization that sent me down my spiral of despair. As I watched an elderly gentleman berate a young Target employee for not being where he needed to be (and I fully back the elderly man on this one), I started to realize that this would be the Target I would shop at for many years to come and I snapped.
I casually walked away (not really…it was a weird shuffling away as the tears started to fall), dropping the school supply list in the basket, mind racing about where to go where I could just curl up in a ball and have a good cry. As my face continued to pinch and the tears started to stream I realized staying in the store would be weird because ultimately I had decided on getting a bag (or is it a box?) of Oreos and finding a changing room to cry in so I walked outside and sat on a bench. After about 10 minutes of off and on crying, and a nice Target employee asking how my day was and me considering for a split second to tell her everything about me starting with birth but then deciding against it, I walked back into the store and found Marcus and the girls. Of course, upon seeing Marcus, the waterworks started up again and this time we hugged in the bread aisle as shoppers awkwardly walked around us and asked if we could step aside a bit so they could get their 100% grain bread. The girls by this point had lost all control and were galloping up and down the aisles and pushing each other over (and if you think this is the most untruthful part of the whole story you would be sadly mistaken) and so we decided it was time to go as the Tepaske family had truly left their mark.
Fast-forward to today and I feel better mentally. I mean, things are still rough as we put our Williamsburg house on the market and we settle into the unknown of when renovations will start but at least Marcus and I will have each other to hug in the bread aisle.
WIth any luck this will be Marcus and me one day. Probably the day the renovations are complete.
Bringing Back Sligo 