I counted 57 pairs of shoes in my girls' closet the other day. 7 pairs of slippers. 11 single shoes missing their mates. Assuming that the missing mates are somewhere in the house, garden or car, that means my daughters own 75 pairs or 150 shoes in total. Because I enjoy public humiliation, I documented the obscene excess and offer it here for your ridicule (and also because I told Nicole I would):
I should say, they did have that many shoes, before the Shoe-Devil visited her wrath upon their dwelling place. Tears were shed. Fingers clutched worn out metallic pink sandals. Bodies dove protectively across Sketchers and Sunglows. Their efforts were in vain.
I have disposed of the excess shoes. They still have loads of them, but then again, there are three of them, and two of them play soccer, and they needed special shoes just for school, and then nice shoes for dressy occasions, plus summer sandals, plus cowgirl boots for dress-up, plus the water shoes they inherited from their cousin, plus....
Oh, who am I kidding? It's pathetic, even after the huge bag of banished shoes has left the house. So I guess my new goal is to strive to be less pathetic. I'm all about setting achievable goals.
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We watched The Incredibles together tonight. What a classic movie, full of memorable lines.
"It's psychotic! They keep creating new ways to celebrate mediocrity!"
Sound advice on being present:
"I never look back, dahling! It distracts from the now."
And something I really wish would work with my kids:
"Stop it! We are not gonna die! Now, both of you will get a grip! Or so help me, I will ground you for a month!"
And given our recent burglary excitement, boy do I wish I had Bob Parr as an adjuster:
"Complaints I can handle. What I can't handle is your customers' inexplicable knowledge of Insuricare's inner workings. They're experts! Experts, Bob! Exploiting every loophole! Dodging every obstable! They're penetrating the bureaucracy!"
It has been 47 days since we were broken into. All of the scenes between Bob and his smarmy, creepy, corrupt boss elicited strong responses from my wii-deprived son: "That's just like our insurance company! We should do that to our insurance company!" Truth be told, I do wish I could get all Elastigirl on my adjuster.
If you haven't seen this movie, ever or in awhile, treat yourself and your family: it's awesome.
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We each wore 3 pairs of girl shoes while we watched it just to make me feel better about the girls' closet. Rick looked super cute in the Mary Janes.
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