Mom Shoes

I love shoes.  Dearly.  An adorable pair of flats, a sassy pair of heels, a fashionable wedge, these make me so happy. 

You know what else I love?  A deal.  I am an obsessive bargain hunter.  A good deal makes me giddy and giggly.  Combine that with a great pair of shoes?  Heaven on my feet.

In my life B.C. {before children}, I had lots of beautiful shoes.  I wore a size 10, larger than the average bear, which gave me the advantage of being able to head straight the the clearance racks and know I could find a great deal on fantastic name brand shoes.  Black patent leather heels for $5?  Got them.  Brown leather slingbacks marked 90% off?  Got those, too.

But then, alas, I had children.  Kids have forever changed my shoe shopping experience.  There are several reasons for this.

1.  My feet are bigger.  When I got pregnant with Ella, my feet grew.  They're now somewhere in the 10-11 range, but I never know quite where I'll end up.  Often, cute shoes are made up to a size 10, and grandma shoes are the only 11's in the clearance section.

2.  Bunions.  When I got pregnant with Ella, I also got bunions.  I would like to blame Ella because they started during her pregnancy, but I will also blame my father, because it's hereditary and he has them.  Thanks, Dad.

What are bunions?  Bunions are a deformity characterized by lateral deviation of the great toe, often erroneously described as an enlargement of bone or tissue around the joint at the head of the big toe (metatarsophalangeal joint). As the great toe (hallux) turns in toward the second toe (angulation) the tissues surrounding the joint may become swollen and tender.

Yes.  I copied that great fount of online wisdom, wikipedia.

Bunions, for my personal life, mean I have to be careful what shoes I wear.  And they mean that shoe shopping is no longer a breeze.  I can try on forty pairs of shoes and find none that won't be painful within ten minutes.  Also, I only have a bunion on one foot, so when I do find a shoe that fits very nicely on my yucky left bunion foot, it often slides right off of my normal and slightly less yucky right foot.

I believe we have exhausted the topic of bunions, since I'm thirty-three and not yet allowed to go on and on about my aches and pains.  Pretty soon I'll be telling you about my incontinence.

I'm kidding.  Really, I am. 

3.  I'm a mom and my time is not my own.  I don't have a whole day anymore to shop for deals on shoes if my heart desires.  Handsome Hero is really good at making sure I have time when I need it, but for the reasons above, it is never enough.  If you are a bargain hunter, you have to be patient and spend time doing it, and I have had to get used to paying more for fewer shoes.  This hurts.  It hurts my soul.  It hurts my pride.  It hurts my clothing budget.

4.  Kids = sensible shoes.  Kids mean running around.  Running around means sensible shoes.  Sensible and stiletto do not often meet in one shoe.

A couple of years ago, I finally had to go through all of my adorable shoes and give away most of my most awesome ones.  They were killing my feet, and I decided I was finally mature enough to realize that it wasn't worth it, no matter what Oprah says.

That left me with a need for black sandals.  I found two pairs that I really liked, but could only afford one.  As I looked at them, I realized something.

I was about to cross a threshold between high heels and {dun, dun, dun...} Mom shoes. 

Don't get me wrong - the mom shoes were really cute, but I was torn between a pair of sexy gladiator heels and more-comfortable-than-any-new-shoe-has-a-right-to-be black wedges with comfort soles.  I debated over these shoes for so long, Handsome Hero began to think I had been kidnapped by aliens who wanted to do experiments on earthlings with bunions.

 

I bought the mom shoes, and ever since, I've walked the line.  I've walked the line in cute, but mostly comfortable shoes.  First come kids, then mom shoes.

All shoes via

p.s. I have found some awesome yet comfortable heels, and I am always on the hunt for amazing flats.  I'm not saying that you are doomed forever once you become a mom.  I'm saying that you are so saintly that you rise above {picture big, toothy grin}.

p.p.s  I am writing this barefoot.  How's that for irony?