Taunting shoes

Lucy loves putting my shoes and purses on and striding around the house. She does best with flats and a clutch. And she likes to bring fashion trends back, like one silver shoe and one gold. And the "two right shoes" trend.

Sometimes she gets bold and goes with heels. I was watching her the other day endeavor a particularly painful pair. It was particularly painful, not only because there was absolutely no way she was going to be successful at taking even one step, but also painful because it dawned on me that I couldn't walk any better than she could in them.

These pretty ladies are sitting in my closet. I bought them on sale at Nordy Rack, and felt great about the purchase at the time. I bought them about half way through my pregnancy with Scarlett. I think they are quite stunning with jeans. Skinny or a wider leg. But I am yet to wear them. I just can't see how it's probable that they will make it onto my feet. Jason and I went on a hot date Friday night to a fancy restaurant and a movie (Yay for A-team! Good one!) I was contemplating the shoes all day leading up to our date, trying to buoy myself up and strategizing how I was going to conquer them that night. And alas, they remained behind. I'm not sure what it is about them that have made my relationship with them so unsuccessful. They aren't that wildly different from some other shoes I have. But they are impossible. I have tried them on several times. But cannot even walk across the bathroom in them to my full length mirror. CANNOT walk. And every time I go into the closet and see them sitting there, they taunt me, "You spent money on us, loser!" or, "You'll shoot your eye out!" And then I get angry. And throw them behind my other shoes. And then they somehow creep their way up to the front again, like an ouija board that keeps reappearing. I keep hearing the jumangi drums in my house and when I run to where the sound is coming from, it's the shoes. They're big snobs, these shoes. Arrogant snobs. But now I'm torn between taming the wild beasts and really learning to walk in them and and donating them. What to do. WWYD?

I wish my husband gave a lick about this kinda stuff. If he was behind me, giving me moral support, maybe I'd find the courage to conquer them after all. Those shoes are beautiful, Mer. You have to wear them! They are so flattering... they make your foot and ankle look so feminine...there's that sassy mama I married. That's what he should be saying. But I have to remind myself that this is the man who, in response to asking him how he liked my new perfume, and which scent he preferred between two perfumes, said to me, "I don't know. I just know good smell. And bad smell. Good smell, as in perfume in general. And bad smell, like... poop. Your perfumes don't smell that different to me." Are you kidding me??? I stared at him blankly for no less than a straight 27 seconds. So, since then we've gone with, "spit up and B.O." It's comparable to Escada's newest fragrance. No... he doesn't care about the shoes. I might as well be in white Reeboks 24-7 for all he cares. (Lucky for him, you'll never catch him in white Reeboks. Over my dead body.)

So, if you ever see me wearing the shoes out and about, you should probably come give me a huge congratulatory hug. A lift-me-up-off-the-ground, spin-me-around hug would be nice. And I'll probably act like it's no big deal. "Oh, these old things?! I just threw them on..." But I'm telling you now, IT'S A BIG DEAL.

On a sad and kinda gross note, Lucy has the worst eye infection. Poor thing. And it's really contagious. I hope no one gets it at church or nursery, because we had to give her eye a good wipe and then leave her in there yesterday with all the other kids. I only share this because I know the majority of you are fellow moms and know how it is, but this morning she woke up and her eye looked like this:

Just kidding. Sick!! She does has a love/hate relationship with that oatmeal though. On one hand she loves it so much that she tries to create an oatmeal mask every time it's presented to her. Makes her skin incredibly soft and supple she tells me. I should try flinging it around my face when I eat it, too.

And at the same time she hates it in between her fingers and on her hands. And she becomes distraught almost immediately. As if she has nothing to do with getting it there. Such a victim, Lucy. Take some responsibility. You can't blame oatmeal for all your life problems.