Thursday, March 15, 2012

The Yellow Shoe Diaries

Hi there!  My name is Courtenay and I am another red-haired Eastern Iowa mama!

Miss Mary (who is not contrary) and I were co-workers during the long summer of 2007 when we were both pregnant, she with her first (the one-and-only Cael) and me with my second (the unforgettable Violet).  That was a long, hot summer, wasn't it?  Ugh... I remember insisting that we buy a family pool pass so that I could plop down in the zero deck and let my two-year-old Milo exhaust himself running circles around me.  I didn't even care how huge I looked, sitting in that water was a life saver!

Me pregnant with Violet
Little did I know then how huge life (and my uterus) would get.  We welcomed twin girls to our family last April.  And I was a heee-yuge pregnant woman, measuring 56cm the week the twins were born.  Yes, that is a fact - I measured a year and a month pregnant.

The day the twins were born - how nice of me to strike the same pose so you can really compare!
So, if you're paying attention, you find my kid count to be four, with three-quarters of my brood female.  My poor husband fell into a chair upon learning the news we were having twins - he saw his retirement vanish at the thought of three weddings when he found out the twins were both girls.  I also chided him, reminding him that when Milo goes to college,  he'll be at home with three teenage girls and a menopausal wife - lucky fella, eh?

As good as it gets taking a Christmas pic of four wiggly kids
What does having a house full of girls mean?  PINK.  Pink clothes, pink shoes, pink backpacks, pink toys, pink books, pink bowls, pink headbands, pink everything.  Because, like, you know, girls only like pink.

Except for Violet - her favorite color is yellow.  And all she wanted for her fourth birthday was a pair of yellow shoes.  Hello, marketers, did you hear that?  YELLOW, not PINK.

Do you think I could find yellow shoes in September?

I found exactly one pair and they were foam-soled sandals with a tight elastic band to go around her heel.  In other words, worthless for school.  No one can run and play wearing foam-soled sandals and the weather cooled off quickly enough that she was trying to wear them with tights to preschool.  Yeah, that didn't work.  Her narrow little feet slid right off the front of the sandal beause without the friction of a bare foot to stop it, the elastic strap pushed her lil tootsie so far forward that her toes were hanging off.  Poor girl got to wear them about three times before it was impossible.

But this year, Grandma Shoe remembered.  There will be a pair of sneakers with yellow flowers waiting in her Easter basket.  Grandma Shoe is my mom, who has a small thing for shoes, an addiction that skipped a generation and took hold of my tiny daughter.  Her name is really Sue, but a toddler Violet mispronounced it and called her Grandma Shoe, which, well... if the shoe fits...

Special thanks to Mary, whose tales entertain daily!  Humor is a fantastic quality for a parent to have, and she's got it in spades!  Huzzah!

If you liked Courtenay's post, be sure to visit her blog!  And while you're there, check out the links to all of the other places she posts regularly!

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