I'll do anything for a new pair of shoes

I have so much to tell you about our trip to Disney!  But today, I'm going to start at the end and work my way back to the beginning. Think of it like a Pulp Fiction-style recap.

It had been a long week, and by the fifth full day at Disney, family members were dropping like Lindsay Lohan at a cocktail party.

Disney World is a laid-back vacation in the same way that running a marathon is an afternoon stroll.  It's hot, it's crowded, and I went from walking 10 paces a day to 10 hours a day.  Needless to say, there were some side effects.

My body felt like I had mistakenly entered an arena thinking that I was going to a U2 concert, but ended up joining an NFL training camp instead. My swollen feet, normally a size 7, required a shoe horn and a tub of butter to slip into a size 9 shoe.  And my back felt like I got a chiropractic adjustment from a sadist who especially hates narcissistic mommy bloggers.  

Magic Kingdom closed at 7 pm on Friday, and Bailey and I were determined to close down the park.  Meanwhile, the 10 smarter members of our family were sipping pina coladas by the pool.

It was 6:30 pm, and a giant black cloud hovered stubbornly over Magic Kingdom. It was about to rain cats and dogs, or in this case, Aristocats and Plutos.

We had done everything at Magic Kingdom, and I mean everything.  I even talked Bailey into going to The Hall of Presidents, also known as, an educational field trip/ half-hour history lesson that is not at all interesting or fun for any 11-year-old kid on the face of the planet.

Listen, if your child has seen The Hall of Presidents, then you know that you have literally seen everything that Disney World has to offer.     

I suggested that we leave before the nasty storm hit, but Bailey asked if we could ride the Pirates of the Caribbean just one more time.

And I thought, 'You know what, why not?'  It will be years before the memories of my aching back and swollen feet subside enough for me to book another trip to Disney, so let's do it!

Now, I really can't explain how this next thing happened, so you're just going to have to take a leap of faith with me here.

As I was climbing into the boat, I tripped, kicking off my flip flop into the water below.  And.... wooosh!  The current quickly swept my shoe away to meet Jack Sparrow face-to-flop.

Awesome.

If being clumsy was an Olympic Event, I would have brought home the gold in in my suitcase.

Have you ever known somebody who lost a shoe at Disney World?  Well, now you do.

And what's more white-trashy than walking around Disney World barefoot?  I can't think of a thing.  I guess that post about Honey Boo Boo inspired me more than I thought.

And to make matters worse, those dark clouds had now turned into Tropical Storm No Shoes At Disney.  Pouring rain, crashing thunder, limited visibility, and a stampede of frantic adults wearing Goofy ears.  Not a very good combination for a barefoot, white trash, germaphobe such as myself.

I walked up to the young lady running the Pirates of the Caribbean ride and I said, "I lost my shoe in the water.  Is there any way to get it back?  Is there a filter or something that catches lost items?"

Her response?

"Hahahahahaha!  You lost a SHOE?  On this ride?  How?  It barely moves!"

Well, thank you, miss.  I didn't think that I could feel any more stupid than I did 5-minutes ago, but you really went the extra mile.  I'm sure Mickey is very proud.

Still barely able to talk through her laughter, she said, "I can't get your shoe back, but I can buy you a new pair of shoes."

Huh?  New shoes?  Do you hear the angels singing or is it just me?

Suddenly, all that ridicule and stepping on people's spit was totally worth it!

WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THIS BEFORE?

Okay, new plan for the next trip: Wear $2.50 Old Navy flip flops to Disney World each day, toss one shoe overboard, and get a $25 souvenir courtesy of Disney.

This is brilliant.  And, it will will keep my white trash reputation in-tact.  What a twofer!

Oh, and while you're here, would you like to cast a vote for Werdyab Blog?  You would?  Man, you rock!

All you have to do is click on the creepy little cartoon face.  Top Mommy Blogs tracks all the hits coming from my web address, so one click = one vote.  Thank you!

How To Cover Your Butt... Literally.

For once, I'd like to sit down without worrying about the business end of my outfit playing a friendly game of peek-a-boo with anyone and everyone within a thirty yard radius.  Victoria may have still some secrets, but thanks to low rise jeans, I don't have any left.

Remember in the 90s when your jeans actually covered your cheeks?

This is how they kicked it in Beverly Hills.

Fashion 101 at Bayside High.

Seriously - does anything say "the 90s" more than jeans worn on 90210 and Saved By the Bell?  Well... I mean, other than the Zac Morris phone?

Bailey: "What is he holding up to his ear, Mama?"
Me: "It's a phone, baby."
Bailey: "No, really.  What is it?"

I know what you're thinking.  Those jeans look terrible!  But that's always what we say after a fashion trend has reached its timely end.

Exhibit A.

Exhibit B. 

Exhibit C.

Okay.  So I guess wearing raw meat was never officially "in".  Sorry, Gaga.

The point is that low rise, super low rise, and my bare butt is the only thing touching this seat jeans have been around long enough!  Let's give them a swift kick in that four-inch-by-four-inch square of material that is supposed to cover our bums.  It's time to throw them into the storage box with parachute pants and Debbie Gibson cassettes.

Not only did 90s jeans cover up your entire rump, but they also functioned as a girdle. That was multi-tasking at its finest, folks.  Since your waistband sat just below your bra strap, your muffin top stayed exactly where it is supposed to stay - hidden.  From everyone.  Including your husband and your OB-GYN.

But today's jeans only accentuate the muffin top.  Similar to a Wonder Bra, they take whatever fatty tissue you have and squeeze it up and together.  Well, I don't mean to speak for everyone here, but I'm not looking to take my stomach from a B Cup to a Double-D, thank you very little.

Does anyone actually look good in low rise jeans?  Yes.

1. Women under the age of 21.
2. Women who do not eat solid food.

I'm posting this photo of Keira Knightley because it's pretty obvious that both were applicable.

The sad thing is that when 90s jeans were fashionable, I didn't appreciate them. They were just something that I picked up at The Gap so I could have the plastic drawstring bag to carry my gym clothes in the next day.  Is it too late to say that I'm sorry?

So please join my petition to get those low rise, butt exposing, muffin top squeezing jeans banned from Abercrombies and Buckles everywhere.  So far, the only ones who are strongly opposed to this campaign are Anorexia Nervosa and Spanx.  

Diamonds are a girl's best friend

I didn't get Bailey's ears pierced when she was a baby because:

1. What if she didn't want earrings when she got older?  
2. I came up with reason #1 so that I wouldn't have to get Bailey's ears pierced when she was a baby.

Being a new mother (and a little squeamish of needles myself), I could barely get through Bailey's immunizations without having a total meltdown.  Unnecessary needles seemed...well... unnecessary.

Friday night, I took Bailey, Drew and my niece Claire to the mall.  We walked by the accessory store Claire's (which my niece proudly claimed as her own) just as someone was getting her ears pierced.  Bailey stopped and watched as this little girl screamed her bloody head off.  Awesome.

Later it was time to leave and I said, "Okay, let's go get a cookie, get Bailey's ears pierced and head home."  I was just trying to make light of what we'd seen earlier at that accessory temple of doom.

But Bailey said, "Okay, Mom.  I'm ready for earrings."  You could have swept the floor with my jaw as it dropped open.  What a brave girl!

Bailey walked into the store, selected her bling, and hopped into the chair.  Then we waited for years (okay it was only 15 minutes, but felt like years) until two associates could assist us.  Getting both ears pierced at the same time was a must!

Bailey was totally calm - even waiting.  I asked her if she wanted to hold my hand, but she said that she didn't need to.  And when they pierced her ears, she didn't even flinch.  She didn't shed one tear.

I remember when I got my ears pierced at Bailey's age.  My sister Delane, who is two years younger than me (about 7 at the time), thought a little ear decor sounded nice, too.  So, I gave Delane the honor of going first.  Seemed like the polite thing to do.

Then when she screamed, I decided that earrings could wait.  Mom explained how unfair it was to talk my sister into doing something and then back out.

So what does any super tough and incredibly brave 9 year old girl do in this situation? Cry and hide under the coffee table, of course.

They literally had to pull me out from under the table and hold me in the chair to pierce my ears.  It's a wonder that I don't have an earring through my cheek with all the nonsense that I was creating.

(Sidenote: I can't believe that I actually put that story on the worldwide web.  Totally embarrassing!)

Bailey is clearly much tougher than I am.  And prettier than I could ever hope to be - inside and out.  I am so proud of her!

Let the accessory shopping begin. :)

UGGly to UGGiful

Ahem. I would like to begin this blog with a poem entitled, "Vices":

Superman has kryptonite

Lindsay Lohan has booze

Charlie Sheen has hookers

And I have shoes

But in recent years, I've self-imposed a rigorous 12 step program that has significantly cut down my shoe buying (that, or I picked up a $1,000 a month nanny bill. I'll let you decide).

Back to the point of this post - UGG boots. I've never really gotten the craze. And I didn't think that I'd get much use out of them anyway. When you go through life 5'2" and you want to converse with other adults without shouting, you get used to wearing heels all the time. Investing in casual boots seemed wasteful.

Until I actually tried on a pair. These boots are uber amazing! It's like wearing a cushy, sheepskin rug made especially for your feet that perfectly regulates the internal temperature. UGGS are the Goldilocks of fashion - my feet are never too cold and they're never too hot; they're always juuuust right.

Come over to my house at midnight and you're bound to find me watching television in my pjs and UGGS. I hate taking them off. They're like bedroom slippers only better because nobody judges you when you wear them to the grocery store.

Has my blogomercial convinced you to buy a pair yet?

What seemed UGGly from a distance now looks UGGiful to me. I guess it's true what they say - "Beauty is in the foot of the beholder"... or, uh... something like that.

Nothing says Sunday like UGGS and footfall.

Retail Therapy

Monday, January 3rd was a day off of work with babysitting! I sort of felt like I'd won the Mommy Lottery.

I wanted to do something that is tough (or impossible) to do with children in tow. So after a quick analysis of my options, I decided on Lenox Square Mall shopping. I hadn't been there since before Drew was born. In fact, these days I'm lucky to get to Town Center or Northpoint for a quick essential shopping excursion.

I arrived at Lenox, vallet parked, picked up a Starbucks latte, took a deep breath and looked down the marble path to shopping utopia. Ahhhh. This is the life!

As I walked through the mall, I began to covet many things: Louis Vuitton suitcases, Stewart Weitzman pumps, Gucci dresses, Dior sunglasses, Manolo shoes, True Religion jeans, FENDI purses, Cartier bracelets, Burberry scarfs, Prada shirts, etc, etc, etc. Suddenly, I felt more like I was playing dress-up than shopping because "shopping" indicates that you might actually purchase something.

I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I almost started to feel sorry for myself. Like I should be buying these things. I mean, I work as hard as anybody else does.

About that time, I walked into Kate Spade and passed a grown woman, literally crying, begging her Mom for a $750 sweater. "But Mommy, it would be perfect with leggings!" (And yes, she was still saying "Mommy" in her mid-thirties.)

And I thought to myself, 'Seriously? Is that the most compelling argument that you can make?' Good grief. Rich parents are wasted on the stupid.

Her Mom sighed, turned to the salesperson and said, "Okay. We'll take the shirt, along with the other two things that she tried on."

I didn't stick around to find out the total purchase price, but you can bet your bottom dollar that if Bailey (even at 9 years old - forget 35) was crying in a store, that she wouldn't walk out of there with so much as a stick of gum.

I left and started walking toward Neiman Marcus. I entered the department store right behind a mother and her two daughters, who were probably 10 and 12 years old. The older of the two daughters walked by a necklace display and said to her mother, "I'm going to grow up and marry a rich husband!"

Her mother's response? "Oh, yes, baby. I mean, you have to." Then she began to explain to her daughter in detail how if she wanted to have nice things, she would have to marry a rich man.

This mother never even considered empowering her daughter to earn her own money through hard work, education or entrepreneurship. She also never mentioned that it was fine to marry a man with money (and not for money) as long as you loved him, because without love, the rest of it will never make you truly happy. Ask anybody in a loveless marriage how many necklaces they would give up to have somebody to love and to love them back.

And I thought, 'Geez, what is wrong with people these days?'

Then I realized that I was right there with them - seeking happiness from things that are simply things. I was letting a designer handbag and a couple of pairs of expensive shoes rob me of my Mommy Lottery joy. Hello, reality check.

So I began to think about all my riches. My supportive parents who taught me how to love by example. My family who I consider my friends and my friends who I consider my family. My husband who still looks at me like we've just started dating. And my precious children who bring pure joy to my life.

Suddenly I realized that I'm loaded! :)

I continued my window shopping at Lenox Square Mall for the rest of the afternoon. I left there that day, emptied handed, but feeling just a little bit happier than I was when I walked in.