So You Want Me to Nurse in a Dressing Room. Really Target?!?

I have a bone to pick with Target, so brace yourselves pussycats because it’s about to get real.  But first I have to confess that to think anything negative about Target – much less declare it publicly – runs contrary to every moral fiber in my being. Target is my mecca. It is my happy place. It is everything I always wanted in a retail store but was too afraid to ask for. I would go so far as to say that it completes me, and I know I am not alone in feeling this way. You don’t have to dig too deep into the blogosphere to find Ode to Target Stores in every form, shape, and size. Don’t believe me? See here, here, and even on our very own blog – here.

The retail geniuses at Target know exactly how to prey upon market to my every need (and whim). Looking for an affordable way to spruce up your decor? Bam! Behold the aisles of lampshades and throw pillows offered at a price point that’s not too big, not too small, but inexplicably just right. Searching for an affordable way to add a touch of the Pantone color of the year to your wardrobe? Bam! Target has cute cardis, and it’s your lucky day because they’re on sale! Desperate for a new snack that might meet the approval of your toddler’s increasingly persnickety tastebuds? Bam! Target has a surprising array of morsels – many of which you probably haven’t seen before at your local HEB. Yes, it is undeniable that Target delights and thrills and dazzles.

But if you are a nursing mom, Target seriously disappoints. Looking for somewhere comfortable to nurse your baby so that you can continue your shopping in peace instead of frenetically bouncing an increasingly fussy baby on your hip as you dig through the dollar bin with your one free hand as though your whole life depended on your finding the last pink light-up bouncy ball? Bam – wait – no, that sound would actually be a resoundingly hollow thud because – guess what – Target wants you to nurse in a dressing room.

Really Target? Et tu Brute? A dressing room??? I’m guessing the good people in the corporate office of Target have never tried to keep a defiant whirling dervish of a toddler confined in a space that has a widely visible escape route built into one of its walls. Especially when said toddler is a maniacal genius who knows full well that when mommy is nursing baby brother, mommy is pretty much incapacitated which obviously creates a highly optimal time to bust out her most impressive hijinks – like running away.

And the good people at Target must never have been on the receiving end of that gift either which is what happens when you’re being a faithful Target customer, trying on the entire rack of clearance clothes you’re pretty sure you can’t live without, when all of a sudden out of nowhere a disheveled head of hair suddenly appears peeking sunny side up from the crack underneath your dressing room door. You stare at her, she stares at you, and then all of a sudden the stunned silence is broken by her screeching voice crying “Mommy – what’s that lady’s boobies?” which is toddler speak for “Hey Mommy – her boobs don’t look like yours. What’s up with that?” So yeah, nursing a baby in the dressing room is clearly a well-thought out and just plain good idea.

But beyond the fact that it’s a world class, head-scratchingly bad idea, particularly for those of us moms with multiple kiddos, do you not (as I do) find it at least somewhat insulting that a store that knows us so well – dare I say even better than we know ourselves – has repeatedly chosen to overlook and even trivialize this pretty routine and predictable aspect of their customers’ lives? I’m really not looking for much…just a secure and private room (with walls that actually touch the floor) that includes a chair with arms, a changing table, a trashcan and perhaps some toys to keep my toddler entertained…heaven knows you have plenty to choose from – for all of the above items – in that big ole store of yours.

And what would be your motivation, Target, to include such a space for nursing moms in your store? Primarily keeping your most intensely courted clientele happy. There’s an old saying, maybe you’ve heard it: When mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy. Well, Mama ain’t happy about nursing on a red plastic bench in a dressing room heavily outfitted with fluorescent lights and mirrors. For realz. So let’s talk profit losses. I actually do leave Target anytime my son is fussy to feed him in the relative privacy of my car or another store (namely Babies”R”Us which wisely provides a lovely nursing room to its customers), and once I leave, I am gone for good. I have been known to abandon carts overflowing with merchandise in an aisle or to leave a shopping list only fractionally completed because my infant let it be known that it was feed or run for cover time.

If I could nurse comfortably in your store, Target, trust me when I tell you I would never leave. And at the rate at which I spend money in there, well, let’s just say that maybe your refusal to provide nursing rooms is a blessing in disguise. But probably not – so let’s continue with our list. Happy customers and recurrent (and completely preventable) profit losses aren’t reason enough for a change? Ok, well how about letting us practice what you’re currently preaching in your store? Behold the towering billboard standing proud in your intimates section advertising nursing bras:

Let me give those puppies a whirl, Target. You’re selling me nursing bras. You clothed me when I was pregnant and constantly fielding comments like “Oh my gosh. You look like you’re going to pop. When are you due?” when I was less than halfway through my term. My precious babies rock your clothes better than any of the kids you feature in your circular (and I’m not exactly chopped liver either). We are like walking billboards for your store, and we do this free of charge. Give me a nursing room.

Your store is filled with women, with moms, with moms hauling carts full of young children whose limbs refuse to be contained. We politely and silently spar over viewing time in the dollar section; we exchange knowing and sympathetic glances when our kids completely melt down in the toy aisles; we compare notes on which diaper cream has worked best on our baby’s sensitive skin. If you are our church, we are your people. Give us a nursing room.

And perhaps most significantly, your logo is a giant red cartoon boobie. How can you not have a nursing room when your logo is a giant boobie? For the love of God, Boobie Store, cough up 60 square feet and call it a nursing room!

Clearly Target is not the only store neglecting to offer nursing rooms, so why am I singling it out? Simple – in my view, Target (more so than any other retailer) intentionally, deliberately, and consistently beckons to moms like our own personal Statue of Liberty. Give me your tired, your poor. Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free. Yes, I admit it. I am tired. I am poor (especially after a visit to your store). I am yearning to breathe free…and to nurse my hungry, screaming baby. In peace. In comfort. In a chair with arms.

Listen up Target! We moms willingly succumb to your marketing. We joyfully wander your aisles and proclaim their greatness to anyone who will listen to us.  We even stop to watch your ridiculously amazing ads during shows that we have recorded on our DVR. We knowingly and enthusiastically drink your kool-aid, Target, and all we’re asking for is a relatively private and comfortable place in which to nurture the future generation of Target shoppers. Because hey, if we’re about to give you all of our money… all we’re askin’ in return honey…is to give us a nursing room in your store. It’s about a little thing called R-E-S-P-E-C-T.