If the shoe fits

If you know me, you know I have a shoe problem. I mean, it’s not necessarily a problem per se, but more like a collection.

I like shoes. Correction. I love shoes. You know that moment when Carrie Bradshaw realized her biggest financial investment in life was on Manolos; well I just may have swooned over the thought of that many shoes.

As an adult, I’ve been a just a little more financially responsible than Carrie. Maybe all those SATC episodes actually did teach me something after all? My conscience keeps me in check if my bank account is anywhere remotely close to Carrie’s season 4 status. If so, there will be no shoes for moi or anyone else.

My shoe collection was healthy before Carrie and her friends danced across my screen for the first time 20 years ago (gulp!!!, I’m old), and I think it’s stayed that way, and maybe just maybe I’ve added a few pieces the fictional ladies of Manhattan would be proud of.

One of the perks of having kids, is the insane amounts of options to dress them up in. So you can bet with Miss V that I was going to make sure her shoe collection was on point. I was going to make that collection one that a mini-Carrie would be proud of. And it’s been good.

But Miss Thing can be a bit particular about what she likes. This little diva has refused to wear certain shoes I’ve gotten her, and then wear one pair until they are tattered and gross. Her cousin is going to get some seriously pristine boots next year, because tall boots are the devil, yo.

Gasp!!! What!

I know.

That hasn’t stopped my shoe shopping. I keep trying. And trying. Well, that and the fact my children are giants that outgrow all their sh*t every two weeks. So out of necessity I’m actually forced to buy new clothes and shoes that fit every few weeks. If not, they look like they are waiting for a serious flood to hit Chicago any second.

But you see, I was really worried that I was going to be without a Manolo shopping partner in a few years. Because, let’s be real, Dan wasn’t going to come with me. So that was totes going to be Miss V’s gig, and it was making me super sad (don’t worry, the girl can still shop for a dress like no one else’s business).

And then E came to my rescue. Yep. E. There clearly is a shoe loving gene. I have it and Little Man got it, too.

This year for his birthday we threw a rockstar themed party. He loves to jam out. A lot. Well, next year, this mama may just need to rent out the shoe section at Nordstrom, because he likes shoes even more. (A party in the shoe section sounds like pedicure perfection).

How much more does E like shoes, you ask?

He cries when you take them off. That’s how much. For real. Eman has 4 pairs he loves right now. And immediately upon waking in the morning he must put one pair one. It doesn’t matter if he’s wearing footie pajamas either. He will scream at you until those suckers are on his feet. Once on, he turns into the happiest little guy around.

I should’ve put a shoe registry together for his first birthday party. Lesson learned for next year.

Give him about an hour in the first pair, and he will then bring you a second pair. He will hold them up to you and squeal at you until you swap out his shoes.

Rinse and repeat.

I pray for whoever is on nap duty and has to take the shoes off. Yikes.

Shoe diva.

But, mama got her Manolo shopping partner after all. Watch out Nordstrom E and I are coming for you.

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