Broken Soles [sort of] and Clingy Kids

Today, two pairs of my shoes broke within twenty minutes of each other on my way to church. The first happened on a pair of ridiculously sentimental heels while I was trudging through the snow in my back yard. I'd just reached the fence when the ankle strap broke free from its stitching. They are unwearable without that strap. Why are they sentimental? I got a new outfit to wear to church the first time I came to Oklahoma to see Jake. Those shoes, along with a black pleated skirt and a black and white striped sweater made up the ensemble. These shoes are classics. Black with sweet details. When I was at Dillard's, ten-and-a-half years ago, it was between the pair I got and another pair. A woman saw me trying to decide (I had shoe from each pair on my feet), and said, "Always go with the ankle strap." I did.

After my shoe broke, I ran back in and grabbed some flats. These flats actually broke last week. I was at the park after school with my girls, and the sole just completely fell off. Um, weird. I super-duper glued it back on...because I'm like that, and today, I took about 20 steps before it came off again. Let it be known that I spent way too much tim on Cyber-Monday looking for new black flats. I found some I like, but I really hate spending money unless I absolutely have to (some might find replacing a sole-less shoe sort of a necessity), that's when the glue came in. If I would have known I'd have to re-glue the sole every 20 steps, I would have bit the bullet.

Okay, and the most heartbreaking part is that the heel of my beloved Seychelles came off several months ago. They've been looking at me all sad and mopey in my closet. It happened not long after my super gushy post about them. I was at Red, White, and BOOM! on one of my many trips with Magnolia to the bathroom, when all of the sudden there was an awful clicking against the asphalt. Somewhere at State Fair Park lies part of my shoe. May it rest in peace.

Having two pairs of regular players give out today has made visiting a shoe repair store one of my top priorities. I've really been missing my Seychelles. I think my love for them is what made me skip over all the Cyber-Monday deals. There are a lot of cute current Seychelles, but I just don't love any of them as much as mine. I think I'm going to let my black flats just die. The outsides still look nice, but the insides are shot. Maybe I'll try glue one more time...

In other news, while at church today, I relived a moment from Chicago. Let's go back to Chicago: It was July, and the choir was about to sing two songs, one I can't remember, and the other was Come, Come Ye Saints. I'd arranged for a friend to sit with Cora, and brand new Magnolia was attached to me in a baby carrier. I got up to go up, and Cora had a complete melt-down. Like a screaming freak-out. I wasn't going to leave her in that state, and especially not leave her with my friend [who looked frightened], to deal with. So after a few seconds of grabbing onto my skirt/falling down in the aisle, I scooped her up, and we went out to the foyer. She calmed down quickly, and I listened to Jake play the organ like a boss to Come, Come Ye Saints over the speaker. My sweet little Coco snuggled and relaxed after a bit, and when the choral numbers we returned to the chapel all peachy.

Now to today: My girls always sit or play while I'm rehearsing for choir. Today during rehearsal, they were playing with the children in-front of them. Side note: whenever I take M to the bathroom, which is always at least once during the service, Cora is content to just stay in our pew coloring. I arranged for the person sitting behind us to take care of them while I went up to sing. I thought it would be easy, they'd watch like they do when we practice. The person behind us would likely not even need to get up.

That was not what happened.

Cora was clinging to me with a look of horror, Magnolia was saying, "No!" I'm in the aisle dancing around trying to get my much-bigger-than-a-five-year-old five-year-old to let me go, all while trying to hand Magnolia off. The choir is up and ready to go, and I'm just about to sit back down when Cora's Sunday school teacher hops up and grabs Cora. I scoop Magnolia up and take her with me. As I picked her up, I said, "You're coming, but you have to be really quiet."

She smiled, and said, "Okay." I got up front, but not before my shoe fell off when I got to the top step. Not even the broken one, mind you. We sang. I enjoyed it. Magnolia kept her head buried in my shoulder most of the time, and I couldn't help but smile when I looked out and saw Cora sitting on the edge of her seat watching.

And just for the record: When Magnolia had to go potty about five minutes after the choir sang, I asked Cora the usual question: "Would you like to come with me or stay here?" To which she replied,

"Stay here."

I almost laughed, but told her she was coming with me, and explained on our journey down the hall, that it doesn't make sense for her to be afraid of me going up to sing in the same room as her, but not being afraid when I had to leave to take Magnolia to the bathroom. I think she got it.

1 comment