shoes

Little son's orange crocs have been missing since General Conference.

It has been an extremely trying past week and a half at our house. Slip on shoes are best. I have no patience for laces. And although little son also has black sandal crocs, I much prefer the orange slip-ons for the full coverage they provide his feet when it is a bit chilly outside.

And so, everyday as we are gearing up to go on an errand, I find myself muttering, "Where are your orange crocs? We need those orange crocs."

I cannot account for their disappearance. It baffles me.

About midweek, my exasperation was in full bloom as once more I heard myself asking, rhetorically, "Where are those silly orange crocs?"

Middle daughter replied with a small, "E (our cousin) wore them on Sunday during our Jeopardy game. He always wears them when he comes."

I heard what she was saying, but let it slide right on through my ear canals- in one side right across and out the other. As it was, we were hurrying (always hurrying) out the door and I had no time to canvas the house in search of the orange crocs.

Last evening, it was my turn to host our monthly sisters and mom book club. My sister brought her children this time as her husband was away on business.

As we ladies were discussing this month's read, little E comes sauntering in the family room. Complete with blue Little Tikes golf club and orange crocs. On the wrong feet. At once I began to laugh. And the ladies had no idea for the reasons behind my little outburst.

I took a moment to let them in on the story of the missing crocs. And we shared a laugh and snapped a picture and continued with our discussion.

And now the orange rubber shoes are found. Because E retrieved them from his special spot- right where he left them last week. And we have no idea where that place is. .

I didn't think to have E tell me where those silly crocs were before he left. So I believe they are once again lost and tucked secretly into E's little hiding place. Because I have not seen them since last night.

And I have no idea when that little shoe hider is coming back.

H-Mon in Da Howse

Can I get my mom card back? I took oldest daughter and got those Hannah Montana shoes. (hence my totally white mom, feigning teen-coolness title.)

Before we went, we were discussing the shoes and she actually asked, “Which ones do you want me to get, Mom?” It kind of pricked me a bit. I realized that she really wants to please me.

To be sure we could find the appropriate size and style we went to a different store on the evening of my last post, and funny thing, little son found the exact same four-sizes-too-big shoes that he did at the other store and wore them around till a decision was reached on oldest daughter’s shoes. Which, really, took no time at all, since she went for the same shoes she had her eye on and we found a pair in the right size. She was beaming. All smiles. I was biting my tongue and smiling and reassuring her on her BRILLIANT choice of shoes.

I should be spanked, though. I saw a pair of Tinker Bell shoes with a VERY INCONSPICUOUS little Tink on them. That is the answer! A character shoe with barely any mention of the character. I slyly pointed them out to oldest daughter. She scarcely gave them a glance and continued with the tying of her first love- Hannah.

It was a good thing that the husband went with us, he acted as my moral support and reminded me of the importance of letting her make her own decision. (I think there may have been something in “the Plan” about freedom of choosing for one’s self?)

It wasn’t until the next morning that I realized just how excited she was about her purchase. She got up first thing and put on those shoes- with her pajamas- and wore them all day. And then, of course, yesterday was the first day of school and she proudly donned her shoes, talking about how much her friends are going to love them. Oh, my sweet little oldest daughter.

So, we have Hannah Montana shoes at our house and I have found that I am not suffering because of it. Life can still be wonderful, even when your child wears those ghastly character shoes, and my pride is still intact.

Middle daughter starts preschool the beginning of September. A promise of school shopping has been made. This includes a trip to the shoe store. Heaven help me…

Play-dough, Pony Tails and Pride

Ya wanna know something I don’t really like? That’s gotta be those character shoes that are so marketed out there these days. You’ve seen ’em. The ones with Strawberry Shortcake, Barbie, Transformers, or Elmo on them. I don’t like those shoes. Are you with me on this? Really, I shouldn’t care, but I do. I do! I have made it through six years without having to get those things for my kids. Don’t know why I don’t like ‘em, just don’t.

So yesterday I took oldest daughter to get school shoes, since school starts on Monday. I know! We are still at the VERY BEGINNING of August. Um, one question: who starts school during the MIDDLE of summer break? We do, that’s who. It stinks.

Back to the shopping trip. We enter the store and right there, displayed proudly on the window, is Hannah Montana. They have Hannah Montana shoes. Oh, ARE YOU SERIOUS? I can’t turn around, oldest daughter has seen Hannah and can’t wait to get in there to see what kind of Hannah Montana shoes are inside. The sales lady measures oldest daughter’s foot and the whole time I am stressing about how to get out of buying “character shoes”. (I think I already mentioned I don’t like those kind of shoes. But do you get it? I just don't like those shoes.)

Sure enough, the first pair of shoes oldest daughter sees are white plastic looking tennis shoes with a guitar going down one side and a very poor likeness of Hanna Montana on the other- gold shoe laces and all. I am horrified! She hurriedly grabs those shoes and shoves her very narrow feet right on in. A pretty decent fit. She is excited. I am nervously pointing at other pairs of shoes, trying to turn her attention away from the shoes at hand. My strategy backfires, as right next to the shoes I am trying to sell her on is another style of Hannah Montana. In all, we tried on 6 different Hannah styles. And I was getting more and more bummed with each pair.

Just then, a stroke of genius luck. Oldest daughter begins to pout because the store doesn’t have her fave version of the shoe in her size. This is my chance! I proclaim I will not tolerate pouting and we are leaving THIS INSTANT without shoes! I admit, pretty lame of mom. Oldest daughter is more than sad, she is experiencing the deepest depths of despair. We pack up our gear, strip the four-sizes-too-big shoes off little son’s feet that he has been clomping around in since we entered, and walk out into the 2,000 degree summer sun. Because, that is a better alternative to being in a shoe store with a pouting daughter who insists upon Hannah Montana shoes.

Reflecting upon this experience over the last 24 hours has led me to this conclusion: WHO CARES? Shoes are shoes, right? Of course, the ultimate thing I want is oldest daughter’s happiness. And why does it matter what or who is on the shoes, as long as it is not inappropriate? This shoe-tastrophe was all about me. Me! ME! ME!!!! Darn that pride! Why do parent’s ideals sometimes get in the way of their children’s welfare?

I am reminded again of a huge role model in my life, Marjorie Hinckley, who stated in an awesome book that it was her belief that we should say “YES!” to our children as often as we can, when it does not interfere with what is truly best for them. When I originally read this from her, I felt it. Right through my whole being. I agreed. I put it into motion and began to say yes to the things that had inconvenienced me before. Yes, you can play with play-dough, yes you can paint with watercolors, yes you can blow bubbles, yes you can brush my hair and put it in 14,000 little pony tails. These are things that make my kids happy. It applies to shoes, too. I remember being young- a long time ago- and wanting something so badly, yet feeling like I needed to please my mom and get the shoes, shirt or pants she picked out. I don't think she was aware of the need I felt to please her by choosing what she suggested. And I know it was not intentional on her part, but I don't want my kids to feel that. It took me a long time to realize that my mom's feelings would not be hurt if I didn't choose what she picked out. I want my kids to select what they like- I want them to create their own identity and be strong and confident in who they are.

Yes, oldest daughter, you can get those shoes. We are going to the shoe store tomorrow- first thing.