Oh, how I wish I could sleep. I am quite sure that doing so would work wonders against the crying, short-temper and general bitchiness which seems to define me of late. I am equally convinced that last night’s shoe shopping experience would have been wayyyy better.
In a few short weeks, my niece Sara is having her Bat Mitzvah (heretofore known as her BM, heehee…that never gets old) and, as such, several outfits for the entire family are in order. I have begged Harrison to try on the suit I bought him last year for his semi-formal (did I mention that he long ago surpassed the ability to fit into a kid’s suit? Read: man’s suit, man’s price tag) and he has, not surprisingly, failed to do so. I am going on the assumption that it will fit.* I do so knowing that there is an excellent chance that it won’t. That, however, is among the least of my worries.
Jessie needs two dresses; one for the service in the morning and one for the dance extravaganza at night. I flat-out refused to purchase two new dresses, mostly because of the stress of doing so. It is not that I bristle at her wearing a dress (that ship sailed a long time ago), rather her taste borders on eighteen year-old, stacked, leggy, curvy young woman as opposed to the eleven year old that she is. In searching her closet I chose one dress that is more than appropriate for the morning which, for the kid set, at least, is far less important (fashion-wise, that is) than the evening. In fact, she has worn it to Temple before with a sweater, tights and patent leather boots. All we need to do to make it work is to lose the earlier accessories and add a cute pair of flats. And therein lays the problem.
Okay, I admit to having a shoe thing. I admit to having purchased more than, um, let’s say two pairs of wedges this season. I even admit to perhaps having a problem with my love of shoes which may have been passed along to my child. I cannot, however, sanction my eleven year old (transgender) child wearing heels or wedges to a BM party. Am I wrong?
To her credit, she insisted that in our quest we go the way of Payless Shoes for her footwear. “They are inexpensive, but not cheaply made” she argued (incorrectly). So after a “Shabbat” dinner of Chinese food, off we went to begin the battle, er, search. Now I don’t mean to sound obnoxious, snooty or rude (and if I do, blame it on the lack of sleep) but the shoes at Payless are nothing short of horrible. And, much to my horror, she spotted several (all inappropriate) that she would have been more than happy to purchase. In a not so proud moment, I got so skeeved that I insisted, in a perhaps too loud voice, that there was nothing there and we were heading to the far superior (and I used the term loosely) DSW. Fortunately, the two stores are close together since this expedition began at 8pm on a Friday night and, as everyone knows, I am in a constant state of exhaustion and, um, short-temperedness.
As we entered the store, I reminded her of the parameters of acceptable footwear: black (will work with both outfits), flat or very little heel, under $50 and comfortable. Next thing I know, she is trying on pink high top Converse stating that they would be cute with the dress at night. Yeah, they would, but having attended many a BM in my day, I was quite sure that such a choice would result in hysteria upon arrival at party and subsequent discovery that no one else was wearing Converse. Right?
I somehow managed to convince her to cut the shit, I mean, see things through the eyes of me, her mature, more knowledgeable, loving and sleep deprived mother and try on a few different little black shoes. At the same moment, I noticed that she shoes that I bought for me the BM just last week were now marked down 30% and, blame it again on the lack of sleep, I got pissed and started rifling through my wallet for the receipt with visions of a price adjustment dancing through my head. Do you have a visual yet?
In a victory for me (I have to tally them whenever humanly possible) we left with the perfect shoes for Jess and a promise from Brendan, the store manager, to adjust my pricing if I come back with the receipt today. I assumed, from the double success, that a good night’s rest lay ahead. I was wrong. But at least we have good shoes now.
*Probably a mistake. Oh, and his shoes might not fit, either.