My Morning Out

There are some stories that I simply couldn't make up, even if I tried. The following is one of them.

Today was my big break. It's been a long past few weeks as Andrew has been tied up with work. Late nights mean Mama does all day, dinner and bedtime routine with the munchkins solo. I'm probably just a big wuss, but after so many "just Mom" days and nights and middle of the nights with the hobbits, I'm worn out. Today, being a Saturday, meant that Andrew was home. A friend was having a welcome-the-baby shower in town, and I while I had planned to take Emma with me, Andrew offered to keep both girls and let me have some alone time. Oh joy!

I got up earlier than usual, put on makeup, a new dress, and new-to-me shoes. Sans diaper bag, I was absolutely shocked at how light my purse felt with just my phone, wallet, keys and lipstick. I left the house feeling rather pretty, clean, and free.

The shower was held at a trendy coffee shop near downtown. Hipsters were all over the place. I definitely do not classify as anywhere near trendy, so it felt nice to be dressed up. The time with friends was lovely. I got to hold the darling little one. He still had the newborn smell about him, so I drank that in with my coffee. It was a fun time to celebrate the new fella and his Mama.

Once the shower was over, I stopped by the bathroom to pee freshen up. Exiting the building, I felt something brush my left leg. Looking down, I discovered a long string of toilet paper trailing from the bottom of my right shoe. I felt the gaze of a few especiallly-trendy hipsters, and not knowing what else to do, I reached down, grabbed the t.p. from my shoe, walked back into the bathroom and threw it away. I managed not to make eye contact with anyone as I walked to my car.

Checking the clock to see there was still time before needing to return to my nursling, I decided to stop by the Anthropologie store. I LOVE their stuff and have long been wanting to buy one of their beautiful coffee mugs. I hadn't been in a couple of years, so thought some time browsing around alone would be relaxing. I entered nearly beside myself at the idea of taking my time to look at pretty things, assured that the words "NO! DON'T TOUCH THAT!", or, "Put that down!" would not be exiting my mouth.

My joy however was short-lived, as just a few steps into the store, the top left strap of my right shoe gave way. I nearly fumbled, but maintained composure as I realized what had happened. Nevertheless determined to enjoy my precious alone time, I tried to continue walking. To my horror, the rest of the shoe was so loose that I was unable to walk without it coming off entirely. Being the quick thinking, smooth person that I am whatever, I casually dragged myself to the coffee mug section in the back, and hid behind a display. I was confident that I hadn't made too much of a scene. I tried to look at mugs and choose from all the pretty designs, but after a quick and vain attempt to fix my shoe, I felt utterly defeated. Shuffling around the store just wasn't going to work. To remove the broken wedge shoe would mean hobbling around, nor did I want to go completely hippie and walk barefoot. I wanted a mug dearly, but pictured dragging up to the counter to buy one like some kind of zombie, and simply couldn't bring myself to do it. My fingers brushed the red with paisleys, and yellow with polka dotted mugs, and I turned to make the long, treacherous journey back to the front of the store.

I refused to make eye contact with anyone as I slowly made my way to the front door, pausing behind clothing racks to re-grip the shoe with my toes. I made it up front, and waited on a few ladies to go ahead of me before gimping along behind them. Once I made it out the door, the last affixed shoe strap came loose, too. There was no playing it cool now. I paused, grabbed my completely broken right shoe, and hobbled along the sidewalk. A lady in a Lexus stopped for me to pass in front of her on my way through the parking lot. She saw me holding my broken shoe, and offered a compassionate smile.

Once in my car, I threw my shoe(s) to the passenger floor. And began to laugh. And cry. Hard. My big chance to have some alone time, and look at pretty things all by myself...completely ruined. By a stupid shoe! How often does thing kind of thing happen anyway?!!

I had planned to stop by for a few groceries on my way home, but now that wasn't going to happen either. With free time still on the nursing clock, but no shoes for my feet, I pointed my car toward the freeway. As I laughed and prayed and wept my way back home, I looked around for a tissue to wipe up the mascara running down my face. I had just cleaned the car last week, so the only thing I had to sop up my tears was a dirty baby sock. So pathetic.

Andrew came to my aid when we saw me pulling in our driveway with a sad face. I told him the story, still sitting in the driver's seat, this time laughing and crying all the harder over how silly it was. He is a good and sympathetic listener, and laughed with me. Other than lessons in vanity and pride, I'm searching for what the Lord wants me to learn from this. As if lessons on vanity and pride aren't more than enough. I have much to learn.
And that is my story.

P.S. My tears are mostly dried, so now is a really good time to laugh with me.

P.P.S. I promptly threw those fancy, but broken shoes away and am contemplating donning my crocs for the rest of my life the day.