High Heels

The hubby was gone early yesterday morning, so it was me & Lele doing the morning school routine. I decided to wear a skirt since it was officially my first day back in the office for the new year. I wish I could say that I took the first full week of January off because we were celebrating my daughter’s 11th birthday and the beginning of 2016 on a tropical island in the South Pacific. Ha. Nope. I took the first full week in January off because clumsy me fell down the stairs on New Year’s Day. There’s not really a great story behind the fall either. Nope again. The hubby and I were going downstairs to make breakfast for my daughter and her sleepover buddies when I gracefully lost my footing on the second or third to last step and landed on my back. Damn slippers! (At least that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.) After a trip to the ER (nothing broken, but it still hurts like a be-atch!) to learn I had just bruised some muscles in my back (they’re called contusions [all this with no visible bruising on my back even though it hurt like a mother!]), I ended up resting at home for most of the beginning of 2016. Now back to my original story…

I was wearing a cute tealish-green and black skirt with a black turtleneck sweater. I decided to pair it with my dark wash denim cropped jacket—because it’s January… in Ohio… and there’s snow on the ground here. I put on a cute pair of black tights and brought my even cuter black dress boots with the 3-inch heels downstairs with me so we could finish up our morning routine before school. (No, I did not wear the boots down the stairs. Remember reading the first paragraph in this post? Yeah, not taking a chance of falling down the stairs in 3-inch heels. I love my shoes, but I love not being in pain more. I’m a pain wimp. My threshold for pain is so low you couldn’t limbo under it. Although, I should admit that my threshold is probably a lot higher now after having given birth than say 20 years ago when I was in college. Birthing a baby—now that hurts like a mother! Maybe that’s how “mother effer” came about…) But I digress!

Ok, so we’re downstairs, the dog has gone out and wolfed down his breakfast, daughter has had her breakfast and actually eaten the entire croissant instead of just the inside, I’ve taken my crazy pill (just a low dose of Zoloft, people—nothing to write to children’s services about), and we still have about 15 minutes before our basement guy arrives (to start on the finishing of our basement!!! Happy, happy!! Joy, joy!!). 

Cue thumb twiddlers…

Seriously, I’m never early for anything anymore. My daughter just turned 11. I think this is the first time in 11 years that I’ve been 15 minutes early for anything. It’s a good thing I’m memoralizing this in a blog post. All right, well, we have to wait for the basement guys to arrive before we can leave to drop off my daughter at school. The dog doesn’t need to go out. My lunch is packed. We have our coats. Um? Oh, I’ll put on my cute boots so I can walk around and be more adequately prepared to leave. I haven’t worn these boots since last winter. I slip them on and realize how comfortable they are when my daughter asks, “Why do you like to wear high heels?” 

Cue gigantic draw drop and wide bug eyes directed at daughter.

How can I NOT like to wear high heels?! I’m a girl. I like pretty things. I especially like pretty shoes. Boots are no exception. I tell my daughter, “Because they’re pretty.” She doesn’t really get it yet. I don’t know why. We’re almost the same shoe size. I can’t wait until she can wear my shoes. How fun will it be to go shoe shopping and buy multiple pairs of shoes knowing that I won’t need to feel bad for buying multiple pairs of shoes at one time?! Talk about happy happy joy joy! But, alas, I will have to wait a bit longer for my daughter’s shoe infatuation to rear its pretty head. She just looks at me weird. It’s ok. One of these days…

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