My friend said it well – “Guilty Moms are a dime a dozen” – but I really had no idea all the ways in which I was feeling guilty (one of the top Weapons of Scarcity I use on myself regularly) until I started looking around my life. Take the trip we are going on that involves a six-hour drive one way. I am anxious for my three year old to be in the car for so long. Though I was given lots of advice about ideas to entertain her, I was loath to deal with the preparation. Find a DVD player to borrow, collect some DVDs, go to Target’s $1 area for cheap and new-to-her toys, and make some puppets and other home made activities. I had a deadline this week and wasn’t willing to spend my downtime making stuff. I didn’t want to spend the money; didn’t want to have TV in the car. I just didn’t want to deal.

But two days before we leave with most options no longer viable, my folly began to dawn on me like milk slowly spoiling in the back of the fridge. Was I crazy? Six hours, no preparation? I don’t have a lot of evidence for my child being difficult on long rides, because we don’t take any. I knew that I had to do something and that something I did was Target.

I have a habit of pretending I am an anthropologist visiting a foreign culture when I engage in some pop cultural ritual that I am ambivalent about, such as watching CBS Monday night comedy shows or buying cheap products at big box stores. I realize that Target provides jobs here and abroad (sometimes uplifting women and their families out of abject poverty), but I am vastly ambivalent about the overall value of this business model. I know deep down that when I step in there for something I could buy for a couple dollars more at a local hardware store or children’s boutique, I am not aligned with my core values.

Why did I do it? I felt desperate. I felt afraid. I became worried that we would have a terrible drive without some new stuff to ward off Maxine’s boredom. That we would be trapped in the car together angry and fuming and late for where we needed to be. That my fire-breathing Dragon Mama would unleash her wrath in frustration and I would ruin the trip. Mild hyperbole, but a LOT of scarcity running the show and a whole cultural conversation backstage.

And, I will admit that being in Target the night before Valentine’s Day was rather festive. I felt I was participating in a modern American past time: consumption of cheap goods. I understand this activity because it feels good. It’s fun to find little treasures I can afford in the stacked bins, fill up my bag and walk out with the (perceived) security of a peaceful drive. It was easy and convenient. I was grateful for that.

The part of me where my actions trampled on my values feels guilty. I felt queasy in the store even, under the slight high of finding what I thought was protecting me. I felt a weird sense of pride and repulsion for my Americanism and the way I was expressing it. I’ve been left wondering, how does one be a mindful working mom? How do we stay aligned to our values, our ideals, when we feel depleted of time and creative energy, when the easier route is not only available but is celebrated by a society hungry now to keep the economy humming?

One thing I know is that I have some work to do on trusting myself (I always have a choice not to lose my temper), trusting my child (she always has 10 fingers to count and shoes to take on and off), trusting my community (to ask for help) and going with the flow (so what if we arrive late). Trust is an action of sufficiency. For now I will stand in the inquiry of how rigorous do I really need to be about Target and its peers when I it’s a priority to me to flow my resources to local shops. And in the meantime, I will shake off the guilt.

Epilogue:
We are back from our trip. While the $1 clipboard was great for drawing, Maxine was unimpressed with my Target purchases. The stamps didn’t work, the dry erase board fell apart, so did the markers. What did I expect for $1? The miracles came in ways I could never have controlled: her folding up my scarf to make a pillow for a long nap each way, rocking out to her CDs, eating snacks and playing with toys I brought from home. When it comes to scarcity, FDR has it right: The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.