The Ongoing Shoe Chronicles

Sunday morning a few weeks ago I told the kids to get their shoes on. It should have been simple. It never is. My oldest came out wearing one boot and one tennis shoe. He looked so proud of himself. I just did not have the fight in me to argue about it. He walked into church like he invented fashion and I let him because honestly I was impressed he found two shoes at all.

Then on a completely different day my other son came strolling out in socks and sandals. He always chooses socks and sandals. He dresses like he has a timeshare in Florida and he is late for his afternoon shuffleboard game. He has never been to Florida but spiritually he lives there.

The thing is these moments are not rare. They are not surprises. They are a lifestyle. Our entryway looks like a shoe graveyard. Boots with no partners. Sneakers that have lost their will to live. A flip flop from a summer I barely remember. Shoes appear and disappear like they are in witness protection.

Every day these kids come up with a new combination that makes me question both reality and my own parenting. But it makes me laugh. And sometimes laughter is the only thing that keeps me from crying over a missing Croc.

Motherhood is wild. The shoes in this house are wilder. And honestly I would not trade the comedy for anything.