Shoes With Little Sticks

Today as I stand in my closet, mistress of all I survey, I am clad in my usual stay at home mom uniform – yoga pants, sweater and (mismatched) socks.    This is pretty much everyday attire for me, except for the occasional lunch date, when I’ll trade the yoga pants in for a nice trouser cut jean, usually keep the sweater but throw on a scarf or belt,  – voila,  restaurant ready!  It is a far cry from my office days, where the dress code was business attire daily, including footwear.

With that said, I look down at my shoe rack, full of forlorn, abandoned (and mostly out of style) work/dress shoes that haven’t seen the light of day or dark of night in a long time.    A small fortune in footwear, each pair sitting in its little plastic cubby, wondering why they have been forsaken.  “At least donate us to Goodwill,” I can almost hear their little voices cry, “Maybe we can live out our remaining days being useful to someone!”  But alas, like some unfortunate soul on A&E’s “Hoarders”, until now, I have not been able to part with a single pair.   That’s not to say that I haven’t added to my collection since my work days – mostly fun flats, funky boots, trendy wedges, sneakers  (although I am still searching for the holy grail, comfy platform pumps, suede preferably.  Hey, a girl’s gotta dream.)  Decision made.   I really do need to make room for my newer shoes, so I start pulling out old pairs of shoes from their cubbies, and come across what  a few years ago my son dubbed The Shoes With Little Sticks.  Let me explain.

When my son came home from his first day of first grade, of course  I couldn’t wait to find out  what he thought of his new class and teacher.  He replied that he really liked his new class, and thought his teacher was so nice.  “What is she like?”, I asked excitedly.   “Well”, he started describing, “she has long dark hair, and she’s pretty, and she wears this stuff on her lips”  (note to self, start swiping on a little lip gloss every now and then), “and she wears these shoes with little sticks on them.”  “Little  sticks?” I asked, intrigued.  I really couldn’t imagine what he meant.  Is she walking around on little baby stilts?  Are  they taped onto the shoe?  Is this some fashion statement that has more than likely passed me by?   “What  do you mean by little sticks, sweetie?”  He continued, “ You know, Mommy, on her  heels, these pointy little sticks on the bottom  of her shoes.”   Oh my God, I thought to myself as the realization sunk in.  Have I really let myself go that much?  Is my son so used to seeing me in my “momiform”  that he has no vocabulary  to describe shoes outside of his reference points?  Shoes with little sticks, indeed.   I went to my closet and dug out a pair of long forgotten black kitten heel pumps, an  office staple for me back in the day.   “Yes,  they look just like that!” he cried.  “I didn’t know you had shoes like that,  Mommy.   I’ve never seen you wear them.”  I smiled and sighed,  “In a former life, baby, in a former life.”   

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