The other day, Leila went to the Nutcracker with my mom, and wore her fancy shoes. I bought her these shoes for a wedding she was in in the summer. Now, I don't know why, but it is so hard to find simple, classic patent leather maryjanes, like the ones I use to wear. They all have sequins, or lace, or a clunky heal, or velcro, and you just can't find them. So I went online and searched long and hard and found some: $42, more than I've ever paid for a pair of Leila shoes. I had to exchange them and get the right size, but finally she had the classiest pair of shoes a kid could have (according to her mother, and we all know no child has ever complained about how their parents dressed them...) So, she wore them the other day, and took them off in the living room. I told her, "Put your shoes in your room." and didn't think anything of it because they disappeared. Little did I know that rather than putting them away, she hid them under the Christmas tree. I guess the the ten foot walk into her room, where she was probably going anyway, was just more than she could bear.
So far, not a huge infraction. She's six, she's supposed to pull little things like this. Now add to this another ingredient: the dog. You know where I'm going with this, don't you? I finally spied her shoes under the tree and put them in her room, but later I found a little piece of patent leather, and I must have known deep down, but I refused to acknowledge the truth.
This morning, I was getting L out of bed, and we were excited for the last day of school, and its pajama day today, so we were extra celebratory, and on my way out of her room I picked up one of her fancy shoes, and the strap that goes across the foot, the very thing that makes it a maryjane was severed by dog teeth.
I hate starting the day with my blood boiling. I got out of bed at 7:03, and I was ready to yell and throw things by 7:07. So, shoes that were beautiful and fancy are now trash. It kills me that I will have to throw them away. I don't throw anything away if I can help it, I always try to find a second life for things, but no one can wear one good shoe. Mark my words, though: she will wear the broken shoe on Christmas Eve if I have to strap it to her shoe with duct tape.
I also feel like a heel (no pun intended) because I got really mad, not even at Leila directly, but just mad in general, and she started to whimper and say she wasn't going to have any fun at the class party now. She felt so bad, and I instantly felt like a turd because she didn't really do anything that bad, she just got caught in a perfect storm, and it looked like her day was going to be ruined. Luckily, she snaps back pretty quickly and was all smiles when she got to school, singing her weiner dog song. I, however, am sitting here craving a mimosa and a crack pipe.
I can't find the Christmas spirit this year. I really like being filled with Christmas spirit. The holidays are so fun when you're in the mood for them, and when you're not in the mood for them, its doubly bad because you have to do all the stuff anyway (I wrapped presents for three hours yesterday) and you feel sad and guilty that you're not enjoying yourself. I think its a combination of things: First, my stupid foot still hurts; four weeks, and it seems to be getting worse instead of better. Second, all you hear is about the doom and gloom in the economy, and every time Rob calls me from his cell phone in the middle of the day, I'm sure he's sitting on the steps of city hall (where he works) with a cardboard box of his stuff and his final paycheck. That is not likely to happen, but its hard not to be jumpy these days.
So, I have six days to start enjoying myself, or else. Merry Christmas.