Thursday, November 11, 2010
These Boots Are Made For Walkin'
Right now they are sitting, in their box on the floor of my closet. But why? Why, you ask? They are adorable! They are hip! Trendy! Chic! How cute would they be with black tights, a knee length skirt (maybe a blackwatch plaid? With buckle detail?), and a cream shirt! Can you just see it? I could flip my hair up in a little bob, maybe wear a coordinating headband. Could you just die?
*sigh* I could.Yes. So I have the boots. In a size 13. Yeah. As in a girls size 13. Because they are for Violet. *I think*
I may have mentioned that Sunday was a difficult day for Violet and I, remember? Well, after our inspiring morning at church, she and I went to the mall for (wait for it) church clothes. Shopping for clothes with a 7 1/2 year old who has just figured out that mommy might be a tad upset. Fun! And? I tried to have a gentle talk with her about what happened at church on the way to the mall. It did not go well. And that's all I have to say about that. Anyway.
We tried H & M. I ran screaming from the store. I'm not going into details. Whorish clothes, etc. Even Violet was like, "Why can I see through this dress?"
So we went into The Children's Place. I was disappointed with amount of selection I had, but thank you Jesus, we have clothing that covers my baby's body!! She? Did not like any of it.
I seriously had about 6 different items, and she turned her pert little nose up at every single one of them. She was in love with the only ugly dress they had. The only ugly one. C'mon! (Mom. Really? This bad. Was I this bad?) I grabbed the hideous dress and all the other -5!- choices and herded her into the dressing room. I shoved her into the dress, all the while chirping about how cute it was and how she was going to look just like icarly. Judge me. I don't care. Desperate times, people, desperate times. We got the dress on and her poor little face just fell. I fussed with it a bit, trying to make it look good, but really, it was one of those dresses that only a stick figure can wear -- and she's 7. Don't get me started. I yanked off the dress and started chirping again about the other clothes. And the blackwatch plaid skirt with buckle detail? Score! Cream shirt? Score! Add in black tights! Yes, we have a winner! She was easily swayed into another skirt and two more shirts without a problem. Then, the issue.
"Mom! I love this outfit. Like, I love it. Love, love, loooove it. I can't believe you picked out this skirt!" (OK, wait, I have to interrupt. She's 7! I'm that lame already? I could rock this outfit. At 37. Well, the skirt would have to be longer. But I could so rock the concept.)
" 'Member you said my boots are too small? Can I get new boots?'
"Sure! We'll go find some now." (Thank you, Lord. Thank you. Awesome Violet is back.)
We can't find what she wants at Payless, so we go to Sears. Her eyes light up and she squeals with delight, jumping up and down.
"These! This is the exact pair I want!"
My heart hit the ground. I heard it. These are not baby boots. They are not sweet little 'awww, wook how cute the wittle boots are' boots. These are boots that I covet.
I stare at the boots. I stare at Violet. Finally I tell her to roll up her jeans and we'll try them on, only because I totally *know* they won't have her size. I am so wrong. She pulls them on and struts around. I start to cry. I chew my lip. I buy the boots.
When I show my sister in law, Kerry, the boots, her eyes go wide and she falls over. Really. They are that out of character for me to have bought for Violet. We go back and forth on whether they are appropriate or not. I can't help but think, if I'm asking, "Are they appropriate?" Then the answer must be, "No." Right?
I finally show them to my husband that night. He laughs so hard he cries. I ask if they are OK. He just shrugs his shoulders and points out that she'll be wearing them with tights or jeans, not hip high skirts to dance in.
But now they sit in my closet. Because I've taken them from her in an effort to curb her behavior this week. Our 'Come to Jesus' moment from Sunday has continued all week. And in my confusion over the boots I chose to use them as my bargaining point.
If you can behave appropriately, you can have the boots. If you can't, I will return them.
Am I secretly hoping I'll get to return the boots?
*don't be alarmed by the alarming amount of italics I use this post. I seem to love them today.