February 22, 2015

A tale of two shoes

The only thing left for us to be totally ready for Misti and Mark's wedding next weekend was shoes. Since Misti and Mark were engaged, our family has been stupid excited for this new chapter in their lives. Misti and I were in the 2012 NWA Listen To Your Mother show and have worked together on the OKC Listen To Your Mother show since then. In 2013, Hadley wouldn't let me talk about the show without asking me what Misti had to say about it. And last year, Briley said, "I can't remember how we're related to Misti." (PS--we're related by heart.)

Saturday, we had a perfect opportunity to get our wedding shoes. It was a gorgeous day and we were in the city and Shoe Carnival was having a sale.

Hadley is difficult to buy for because she wants to wear shoes that don't stand out and are comfy. She wanted to wear Chuck Taylor's to the wedding. When I tried to push her toward some cuter, more stylish shoes, she dug in her heels (figuratively and literally) and decided she wouldn't buy any shoes at all. We compromised, though. She'll be wearing a pair of my shoes and she can slip them off under the table when she's not walking anywhere--which will be all night long because she's a wall-flower like that.

Briley is difficult to buy for because she wants stripper heels.

That's right, my eleven year old, athletic, funny daughter wanted some six-inch, rhinestone studded heels. I vetoed them without any discussion.

She then chose some hideous grandma-type shoes which I said, "Really? Do you think you'll like those?" And she shook her head no before trotting off and returning with her original pair.

As if I would forget the stripper heels my fifth grader wanted to wear.

I chickened out recruited Brian help me out. "Go ask your daddy."

She returned defeated. "He said no then he went to the car." (Who's chickening out now?)

I argued the softball bit--if she fell off of those suckers, her season was done as we would try repairing her ankle. This caused her to pause, but ultimately the shoes were way sparkly.

I argued that if the Department of Human Services saw her wearing them, her daddy and I would go to jail. She shrugged it off.

I promised to take her to Target and buy her two pair of shoes if she'd just put the stripper heels down.

She got a pair of fleece-lined sequined moccasins, a pair of pink canvas, Tom's-like shoes, and a pair of black flat sandals.

Three pairs? Yep. They were on sale, and Target had stripper heels too. I had to up my ante.


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