If the Shoe Fits

We all have certain challenges we face in life. One of mine is saying, “You’re right, I’m wrong.” when I know the opposite is true or, more importantly, when it’s not. Letting go of criticism and guilt, especially the kind I heap on myself, is another.
We’ve all had our fair share of difficult relationships too. My last one is no exception, seeing as we haven’t been getting along for a while now. He folds over without a fight and then snaps at me without warning. It’s no wonder I’ve sent him--my two tiered laundry drying rack, that is--to the basement for a much-needed hiatus.
Don’t even get me started on my love/hate relationships with my dishwasher, shower faucet, glue gun, electric screwdriver and pencil sharpener. They promised to be there when I needed them and to cause me no bodily harm but it hasn’t exactly been working out that way for some time now.
There is one challenge, though, that at times seems to defy all sense of fundamental reasoning. It tests boundaries that could move mountains. It leaves you speechless, breathless and restless. Some days it even brings you straight down to your knees to pray “Dear Lord, remind me again why in the world I got myself into all this in the first place?” I am sure y’all have guessed what it is by now. Yep, I’m talking about parenthood.
A few days ago, I finally worked up some much needed courage. I had a job to do and, to be perfectly honest, it’s the one I dread the most. Give me a root canal, a twenty-eight hour plane ride, or an extended five-hour encore of Oklahoma, and I would probably be just fine. Spend some time shoe shopping with the girls, on the other hand, and I’ll need a Xanax, a molten chocolate lava cake, the patience of Job, the compassion of Gandhi, and a warm bath behind a locked door if I ever hope to function properly again.
One morning, out of the blue, someone will come downstairs with their big toe sticking out of the sole of their shoe while walking with the limp of a 99 year-old man. I brace myself. It’s time.
Later that day, I’ll be standing with my kids in front of the entrance to the shoe shore. “Haven’t we just been here?” I say out loud to no one in particular. I take a deep breath. I don’t expect things to go smoothly. I know we will not be in and out. How can we? Every shoe will either be the wrong size, wrong color, too big, too small, too hot, too cold, too wide, too tight, too plain, or just plain too much. My girls make Goldilocks look like a pretty low maintenance, easygoing gal on the go.
Before you know it, the shoe shop looks as if a Stride Ride 18-wheeler delivery truck hit an oil patch and spilled its entire contents on to the floor. Oh yeah . . . and we still haven’t found a shoe that’ll do. About now, amid the chaos, the bending and standing, the tying and untying, the crying and whining, I decide to just see it for what it really is. Sometimes answers to the most puzzling aspects of life appear when we aren’t even looking for them:

The shoes may only come in blue when you wanted purple but sometimes we don’t get exactly what we want. Be gracious; make the best of it.

Money doesn’t grow on trees and tennis shoes aren’t cheap. Appreciate what you are given; take care of it.

You may make a mess or mess up. It’s okay; just own up to it.

Little feet grow faster by the day. Time is precious; value it.

Indecision will try your patience, but something worth getting should be worth doing right. If it’s important to you, take your time with it.

It’s easier to tell the truth about something sooner rather than later. Don’t wait; tell me about it.

Sometimes it takes a while to figure out how much shoestring to tighten and how much to let out. You just need to find the right tension; adjust to it.

Even after you’ve finally found them a shoe that fits, they probably won’t wear it but will instead choose an old pair that are a size too small and have a hole in the seam that their toe pokes out of because they match their socks better. What can you do? Just go with it.

Sometimes when the self-doubt sneaks in and I wonder if I am doing more harm than good, I think of an old Vietnamese proverb that says, “When hulling rice, one cannot carry one’s baby sister.” Strange choice of a mantra, I know, but true. In other words, common sense really does go a long way. Embracing parenting as the toughest job you’ll ever love, no matter how bad you think you are at it, well . . . that will take you beyond places you never thought you could reach.