If the Shoe Fits

I can think of nothing more frustrating than shopping for shoes with my children.

Julianna insists that they must have shoelaces (not Velcro). They should also be as shiny, sparkly, and tacky as possible. There is no such thing as "too pink" when it comes to shoes. And if possible, they should also be adorned with ribbons, dangling charms, and fur. (I know, it sounds more like lingerie than shoes).

LJ usually complains that shoes are too tight, not the right color, or don't fasten the way he wants (he still doesn't like to be bothered with shoelaces).

Regardless of which child I'm with, shoe shopping is painful.

Shoe shopping is so miserable that the last time LJ needed a new pair of sneakers, I avoided it for so long that the the plastic frame of the shoe actually wore through the material and was digging into his foot. He was limping around in class, so I had to leave work to run home and get him an old pair to wear at school for the rest of the day. (There goes my Mother of the Year Award).

I can understand why it is difficult for LJ to find a pair of shoes he likes. He has wide feet and most of the shoes he tries on are just too narrow. But I can still recall spending more than an hour in a Stride Rite store at the mall when LJ was 4 years old, fighting tears and tantrums (mine, not his), and trying desperately to find anything he would wear.

We finally did find some, but I think he outgrew that $50 pair of shoes within three weeks. I never went back to that store for fear they would refuse to serve me.

When it comes to Julianna, she is all about beauty before comfort. I have bought at least half a dozen pairs that she insists feel great at the store, only to find out later that they never felt good at all. She just thought they were fancy and had to have them.

And of course, by the time she tells me they don't really fit, we've already cut off the tags and scuffed them up just enough so they can't be returned.

Last weekend, Jack and I spent at least 30 minutes picking out a pair of new soccer cleats with LJ. We even made him run laps in the store to make sure he was comfortable. He had vehemently insisted that he needed new cleats because his old ones were so agonizingly small that he couldn't even get them on.

Tonight, after I laced up LJ's new cleats for his first practice of the season, he stood up and said, "Mom, these are too big, they are slipping in the heel."

Well, you would have thought that LJ had just told me he'd cut his sister's curls off with garden shears. I completely lost it. All my years of shoe shopping frustration came to the boiling point.

It's all a bit of a blur now, but think I was stomping through the house, mumbling words under my breath that would make Roy Williams blush, and shooting LJ a look like, "If you even come near me I will burn lasers through you with my eyes."

I was furious.

But, since I was expecting his coach to pick him up for practice at any moment, I composed myself long enough to find the old cleats in the garage.

When LJ got home from practice, I asked him how his old cleats felt, and he just looked at me like a deer in headlights.

It's kind of like when a wife asks her husband, "Which one of my friends do you think is the prettiest?"

There is no right way to answer that question.

After our little episode tonight, I have decided that Jack is doing all of the shoe shopping for the kids -- without me.

I know it may seem like I'm blowing this whole shoe thing out of proportion. But, let me just ask you this. Please, please try not to judge me for my shopping insanity.

At least not until you've walked a mile in my shoes.