I sometimes wonder if I am harder on my girls than I am on my lone boy. I am almost sure that I am. I suppose that I think what kind of women they grow up to be will be more of a reflection on me, rather than my husband and me as a team. Not to mention that I am probably taking far more credit/blame for who they are and will be than I should. With that being said…
Yesterday, I took my nine y/o out to buy cool (notice, not cold) weather dress shoes for her women’s size 8 feet. Never mind that last year she was wearing a girls’ size 4 . The problem is that when you are nine, standing before rows upon rows of women’s shoes, your perspective gets a little skewed. Suddenly your mother is VERY uncool when she suggests a modest 1 1/2 inch heel over the rows of 5 inch ones. Let me say that there are very, very few low heeled, appropriate women’s shoes that appeal to a nine year old girl. Nor should I expect them to. Manufacturers are appealing to women who buy, not girls. Even I had to admit that the only ones available were far more suited for my grandmother than my soon to be “tween”. Anyway, what’s a mom to do? I will not let her walk around in shoes that suddenly make her look like either a) she has snuck shoes from my closet (HA! like that would happen; I live in comfy, mom-like Bjorns) or, worse still, b) she is undergoing training from an escort service. After leaving the store shoe-less, I knew that I would have to resort to another avenue.
Cobbling can’t be that hard, so I consulted my Compton’s encyclopedias…no, no, just kidding. Instead, I knew that I would have to empty my pockets into the accounts of Hanna Andersson and others who sell identical shoes for girls and women. Purveyors of that type of shoe are rare, so the price is rarer still, but in this case it will be worth the cost.
My daughter may think I am being way too uncool, but I hope that when she takes her 9 or 10 y/o daughter shoe shopping and has to separate out the stillettos and spike heels just to find shoes to wear to church, she will remember yesterday, and realize that I wasn’t so uncool after all. In fact, I seem to recall my mother having the same problem with me, too. I better go call her now.