new shoes

It must be yet another one of those mysterious genetic things, the relationship between females and shoes. Honestly, there is just about nothing a new pair of shoes won't make better. After taking/dragging Elizabeth to the doctor Saturday morning, causing her to miss out on a birthday party - evil evil mom! - I ended up driving to the nearest mall with my three grumpy offspring in a snowstorm to appease them with offerings of new running shoes. Elizabeth was of course bitter about missing out on the party to go to the doctor and be told she has tonsillitis and be put on antibiotics which taste SUPER (not), and the twins were bitter because I had originally planned to take them out for some shopping fun while Elizabeth was at her party - the twins each got a couple of gift cards to Chapters back in January for their birthday and they are just burning holes in their pockets I tell ya, they are dying to use them. So no birthday party, no Chapters trip, three miserable kids in the back seat, and a long long day stretching out before me, so I literally turned right instead of left and drove through the snow to a nearby mall, marched them to the nearest Payless shoe store, and told them they had 10 minutes to settle on a pair of running shoes each. Woohoo! And suddenly I'm not so evil any more. Kids in a candy store, girls in a shoe store, same thing. It's a bit of an invasion when we shoe shop. I demand precision in their choices - the shoes must fit, must be comfortable after several test walks through the store, and they must be able to get them on and off on their own without difficulty. Kate was really humming and hawing over what to even try on - my spider senses told me she was looking for a pair with LACES, since one of her cousins just got a pair with laces. And of course, nothing but velcro in sight. Em meanwhile had just pulled down one shoe from every pair on the shelf to try on, but I could see she was leaning towards the ones with the rubber balls built into the sole, I suspect she had visions of herself jumping incredibly high with them. Elizabeth was around the corner in the next aisle to make matters more complicated, being a bigger size than her sisters. She of course was also hesitating to try anything on, because what SHE really wanted wasn't practical running shoes at all,  I knew she was eyeballing the sparkly high top runners, and the boots, oh the boots. So I physically put 2 pairs of running shoes in her hand, told her to put them on and choose, and then went back around the corner to see if Kate had made any progress. By now I had commanded the attention of not only the sales lady, but the manager of the store as well, who was climbing ladders in search of a pair of shoes in a 13 and a half with LACES. Which she found in due time and presented them to Kate, who's eyes literally started to glaze over when she saw them, all silver and pink and shiny, with bright white LACES....I knew she would tell me they fit whether they did or not, so I wrote her off as done and left her to salivate over her selection. Em meanwhile had devastated the size one section, with every box on the shelf missing at least one shoe, and she had the aisle filled with cast offs as she worked her way through each pair. Of course she ended up going with the ones with the green rubber balls in the sole, the first ones she had tried on. And finally Elizabeth appeared with a pair in hand - apparently she had given up hope that I might weaken and give in to her shoe shopping fantasy of taking home highly stylish yet completely impractical shoes, and had selected a pair similar to Emily's, with rubber bouncy balls in the sole. And then the moment of truth came - as I was paying for them  - and getting an additional 20% off from the nice manager lady, who may have given it to me just to get us out of the store - Emily and Elizabeth were presented with a promotional rubber bouncy ball that came with their shoes...uh oh. The ultimate decision now lay with Kate. LACES or a bouncy ball? LACES or a bouncy ball? I could see her struggling with the realization of what her particular shoe decision was about to cost her. I held my breath and looked the other way, and then heard a quiet voice say "well, I like my laces anyway." Whew, disaster averted. And off we all went, back out into the snow to journey home, clutching their precious shoe boxes all the way. And then they rushed into the house shrieking to their father that they had NEW SHOES and showed them off, and he gave me that "Girls! go figure" smile and oohhed and ahhhed appropriately.   And the bouncy balls bounced, and Kate tied and tied and tied those laces till she could do it with her eyes closed - which she actually did, and demonstrated to me several times. The only thing that would have made the whole experience any better was if I had bought myself a new pair of shoes too...!