I got these new shoes (cute, aren't they?). They are not actually comfortable though. I told Adam I insisted on cute comfortable shoes. I was on a quest. I wouldn't settle for less. (I am a notorious settler when it comes to purchases because I lose patience.)
I virtuously passed up many shoes because they were not cute enough or not comfortable enough.
Then I saw these.
They were cute enough that I didn't care that they were uncomfortable.
I told Adam that sometimes we need to make sacrifices for fashion and he looked very skeptical.
The other day I was shopping with Emma. I asked her, "Are these shoes cute?"
She said, "Yes."
I said, "Really cute?"
She said, "Yes."
I said, "Good, because they are hurting my feet." Then I added the "sometimes we need to make sacrifices for fashion" thing and she nodded her head like I had just spoken wise words.
Sometimes having a daughter really pays off.
Yesterday morning, after a rough and rocky night without enough sleep, I staggered in my pajamas to go drive the seminary kids to school. I slipped on my new shoes because they were by the door. Here's the thought I had as I was walking to my van, "I hope there's not a zombie apocalypse because I am in my pajamas and would not be able to run in these shoes."
Then I thought maybe I shouldn't be driving if I'm having such delusional thoughts.
I told the seminary carpool about my zombie apocalypse fears and they helpfully pointed out that since I was driving I was safe...I could outrun/outdrive any danger.
And why I didn't get any sleep:
I think being a Drama Mama may kill me. A slow and painful death.
Auditions were held in the last week. Between callbacks and delays in listing of the cast and refreshing facebook every 3 seconds to find out the results, I was a wreck. Braeden too.
I usually manage to not be a helicopter parent. I let my kids do their thing when it is their thing. Last year I wasn't nearly as concerned about Braeden's auditions...if he got a part, great!
Now I know how much it means to him.
And I get way way way too invested. (Isn't recognizing you have a problem the first step?)
Why big sisters are a great invention:
I texted Marianne a woeful text.
She texted back: "Do you want me to beat her up?" (her being the person causing me anxiety)
I texted back: "Yes"
She answered: "I will be right there."
Now Marianne is so slender that any foe of mine, real or imagined would outweigh her. I'm not sure she'd be that great in a fight. (I am going to hear about this from her...she will be offended that I doubt her sparring prowess.)
It is wonderful to know that she has my back though. She's been on my side my whole life and she's not about to switch sides.