Fancy Shoes

“Mommy, I’m going to get fancy!”  My four year old bounded into my closet as I changed out of pajamas into (you guessed it) leggings and a loose-fitting top.  

“Okay, kiddo,” I replied, walking to the sink to wash my face.  I scrubbed, dried my face, pulled a curious baby out of the shower (much to her dismay), and began to brush my hair.

“Mommy, why do you have SO many fancy shoes?”

I sighed.  She loves my closet.  She pulls out a pair of high heels at least once a week and parades around the house in them.  It’s actually pretty funny to watch.  But this question stings a little.   

“Well, Mommy used to wear those shoes every day.  Mommy used to go to work and wear dresses and…”  Her attention is gone.  

“Mommy, did you wear these?” She holds up a pair of Coach patterned heels with silver buckles.

“Yes,” I respond, remembering fondly the thrift shop I bought them from in San Diego.

“What about these?” Now she’s holding up a pair of shiny red peep-toes.  I loved those ones–they felt like my superhero cape, like I could do anything!

“Oooh, these are fancy!” Ah, the cream colored pumps with painted peacock feathers.  Admittedly, those were a splurge purchase years and years ago, but talk about statement piece.

She kept pulling out pair after pair and, after reminding her that she needed to put them back when she was done, I stared at my reflection in the mirror a little sadly.  Those “fancy shoes” sit on a shelf collecting dust.  My shoe of choice now? New Balance sneakers.  Blush pink from J. Crew and guess what? I wear them indoors because my back hurts from carrying the baby and walking on hardwood floors.  I am not sure I’d last an hour in those “fancy shoes.”  I examine my unplucked eyebrows, wonder when I actually did my makeup last, and smooth my hair back into a ponytail.  My hair is always somewhere between neat pony and the trendy messy mom bun–believe me, you don’t want to be in that middle ground.  But with a four year old, one year old and a pandemic?  I pretty much always looks like this.  My sweet girl brought me earrings on Sunday to put on with my pajamas so that I looked “a little more fancy.”

Oh sweet girl, if you only knew.  I used to wear “fancy shoes” every day to work, sometimes flats, sometimes heels.  Now I wear sneakers and slippers and, gasp, even the occasional Crocs.  I used to discuss growth strategies and adolescent development.  Now I discuss the lunch options–cheese slice or cheese stick?  I used to stand at the front of a classroom, a hall, a sanctuary and teach.  Now I teach basic hygiene.  I used to plan trips, hop flights, hike canyons, see the world.  Now I cruise the aisle at Target once or twice a month.  

I was fancy.  I was adventurous.  I was tenacious.  I was fun.  

Now…I am tired.  I am utilitarian.  I am distracted.  I am a cliche.

She came out again.  “Momma, look at these shoes!  I can walk in them too, better than the other ones.”  

She’s wearing my wedding shoes.  

Low-heeled espadrilles with white satin straps.  Our wedding was outdoors at a winery, I wanted to be able to walk and dance comfortably–no ceremony stilettos and reception flip-flops for me.  My wedding dress was preserved in a vacuum-sealed box.  But not my shoes.  I keep them on a shelf with the others.  I don’t know why.  Presumably in case another summer outfit calls for white shoes.  But I’ve never worn them.  Perhaps I keep them because they evoke so many memories–our dance lessons, walking down the aisle, our first dance.  Maybe because I like the idea of something really special in the midst of the ordinary.  

But here is my girl, wearing my wedding shoes (on the wrong feet of course), admiring herself in the mirror.  She is the special in the midst of the ordinary.  But maybe I am too.  Maybe the ways that I adapt and change in these seasons, in these trials, maybe that is special too.  It may not be fancy, but it may be tenacious.  I may not be dancing in a club, but I’m shaking my booty in a pre-dinner dance party to “Uptown Girls” as we belt out the “ohhh ohhh ohhh ohhh” lines together.  Motherhood is an adventure unlike any I’ve taken.  It may not be fancy, in fact, it certainly isn’t…but some moments become instant memories.  This one did.