The Shoes

What I'm about to post, I'm not proud of.

Yesterday mom took Nick and I shopping. Specifically shoe shopping for Nick. He's standing all the time, and so close to taking a step, that we knew it was time he started wearing shoes. Not to mention it's freezing outside, and just wearing socks isn't keeping him as warm as I'd like.

Mom had generously offered to buy Nick his first pair of shoes, and I was so excited thinking about seeing him in tiny shoes. I've had a love of baby shoes that dates back to my high school days. I LOVE little shoes. So why had we waited so long to actually put shoes on Nick's feet? Well, we hadn't been able to. Dude has some SERIOUSLY fat feet. They are wide and chubby. Socks rarely stay pulled up in place, they are so thick. So up until this point, I sort of avoided shoes due to the plain fact that I couldn't get his feet in any.

But, we figured it was time to get him measured. So we headed to Stride Rite at Fair Oaks, and proceeded to get him measured. And homeboy wears a size 4 - EXTRA Wide. Not just regular wide...EXTRA wide.

Here's where it got bad.

As soon as we walked in the store, mom started telling the store clerk (a young girl, probably about 16 years old), all about Nick's feet and what we were looking for and needed, etc. For some reason, this made me upset. I suppose I felt like, as his mom, and as it was the first pair of shoes I would be seeing him in, I should be doing the talking. So I snapped at my mom. I said "do YOU want to do the talking?!"

I should have slapped myself silly right then and there. But I only got worse.

We struggled with a couple different sizes and shoes before we were able to get a pair of cute little sneakers on Nick's feet. All the while, mom was offering up her opinion on what she thought would be ideal and more suitable for Nick to learn to walk in. I should have listened, and taken her advice to heart. After all, she put shoes on two kids, and this sales clerk was barely old enough to drive. But instead, I got frustrated and annoyed by her advice. And I only acted worse. I could have easily been compared to the other 7 year olds in the store stomping around and acting like ungrateful children.

Mom picked out a pair of white, leather, ankle high shoes that looked identical to the ones my brother and I wore when we were babies. So instantly all I could think about was how outdated and orthopedic-like these shoes looked. I had zero concern for if they were good for his fat feet, or more conducive to helping him learn to walk. To me, they looked goofy. Not my style. And I was embarrassed by how Nick looked in them.

EMBARRASSED! Can you believe me?! I'm embarrassed just thinking about my childish self. WHO CARED what he looks like in them! I should be grateful that he is on his way to walking -- that he can stand -- that he even has feet! But I was embarrassed by fashion. Fashion for a 10 month old. I want to rewind back to yesterday morning and just go ahead and spank myself for my actions.

But instead of being a big girl and saying to my mom "those just aren't my style, I'd really prefer the other shoes", I felt compelled to tell her we should get the white ones. Solely because I knew SHE liked them. And while I thought I would make her happy by getting them, I should have known I was really hurting her feelings...because what followed was a series of jokes and comments about his "new orthopedic kicks!" or "hope daddy and uncle Matt don't make too much fun of you..." and "did you really just like those shoes because they reminded you of what Matt and I wore?"

By the time we left the mall, we were all near tears. Nick was near tears because he was exhausted and starving. I was near tears because I didn't like the shoes. And mom was near tears because I had hurt her feelings. And I'm disgusted with myself.

When I dropped mom off at home, she took Nick's new shoes, put them back in the box, calmly told me she was going to return them, kissed us goodbye, and quickly went inside.

I pulled out of her driveway and burst into tears. Partially because I wished I had just told her from the get-go that I wanted to get him the other shoes. But mostly because I felt terrible about my actions. I'm a grown woman -- and a mommy at that. I would hate for Nick to ever talk to me the way I did to my mom yesterday. And I know he will. Several times as he grows up. But at 29 years old, I should have been able to control my reactions. I could have prevented the whole horrible ordeal. And over what?! Shoes?! How ridiculous of me!

It doesn't mean that I like the shoes anymore than I did yesterday. But it does mean that I have a little less respect for myself. Who cares what his shoes look like. He'll likely outgrow them in a few months anyway. And if they help him learn to walk, then they are the right fit regardless of style.

So today, in reflection on my terrible attitude yesterday, which spoiled what was supposed to be such a fun "first" in Nick's life, I would like to tell my mom -- I'm sorry. I already know you'll forgive me -- because I'm your child, and that's what mom's do. But I want you to know I am deeply remorseful for my actions. And I'm hopeful we can have round two of shoe-fitting with Nick, together. And this time, I promise to be on my best behavior. ;) I love you, mom!