Little Shoes

     Today is the day I have been waiting 13 years for.  A day which signifies the passing of a generational shoe...err...torch....err...maybe I should start wtih the beginning.  One day while I was in the early stages of my first pregnancy I heard this crazy rumor about the Shrine of the Little Flower in Royal Oak. The rumor was concerning Italian leather shoes...for kids. Those of you who know me, know about my passion for shoes. I will buy two Pair of the same shoe if I think they are really cute.
     The rumor about the Shrine of the Little Flower was true. Twice a year someone donates brand new Italian leather shoes to raise money for the church. Each pair is  $5 regardless of size. Twice a year the SOTLF holds a Mom to Mom sale.
     This lover of  all things soley woke at an ungodly hour to get in the front of the line for this, her very first Mom to Mom sale. As early as I was, I wasn't early enough(I arrived at 7 and doors didn't open til 8) to be first in line. Upon reaching the room holding the array of super cute awesome Italian leather shoes for my unborn child, I was in a quandary. My child who would wear these shoes was still in utero. Completely undetected by the human eye unless  revealed by word of mouth.
     This shoe loving mother had no idea of the sex of her unborn shoe user and  still no idea what size shoe to buy. I remember the scent of leather and how the background noise was nothing more than the eery buzzing of a bee as my hand reached out and unconcsiously selected a pair of  shoes, The shoes are a dark mauve, almost  a dusky rose,one shade on the toe and a deeper glossy shade on the heel., they are a boot shoe and completely gorgeous...and utterly wasted on me because a few weeks later I discovered my son would not be wearing this infant shoe. Nether of my sons have worn this one pair of Italian leather shoes that have traveled from baby's room to baby's room in our various homes.
     This gorgeous pair of leather shoes have finally reached the end of their journey.  My babies are all grown and my baby making days are over. It is time to pull this gorgeous pair of shoes out of the closet and hand them over to the next generation of shoe lovers. Today, I dedicate my heart and my love of shoes to my beautiful new cousin Roan.  I think Roan's momma is a bit of a tomboy and sweet Roan might learn how to swing a hammer before she learns to play with dolls...but maybe if she starts  life out with the right pair of shoes...she will be heading in the right direction.

Let's talk about Girls...

     This post is about my darling Alfreddy. For the first 12 years of his life, my boy child was a child. The last few months have been a huge challenge for me personally.  My sweet son is finally 13 and he is surrounded by girls, all the time. Mostly he is surrounded by the teens on our block. Or at his tennis class, or the pool.  I should add that my bff has stated her opinion that I will make the absolute worst mother-in-law. This opinion is probably due to my inability to not micromanage. Her opinion was stated when Fred was 3. I always hoped she would be mistaken, but I am starting to think she is RIGHT!

    So, there is a problem on my block. Simply stated...I don't like teenage girls. They walk past my house a hundred times a day. They are constantly instant messaging him. They travel in packs. They don't seem to have a curfew(I didn't either, but I'm going to  hold it against them even though I turned out alright.).Worst of all, is that although they are the same age as my son, these girls look OLD and act it. I'm not talking cougar old,but  definitely more senior high than middle school.

     OK, there is another problem on my block. Alfred isn't ever home. He is hanging out with his friends at other houses (houses where the parent's don't seem to see the dangerous glint in those lady tiger cubs eyes). I think the true reason that Fred isn't home is because he is (oh-horror-of-all-horrors!) embarrassed by his mother(ME!).

    I would like to be different. I would like to be ok with these little (hussies)girls coming over, offering glasses of lemonade or plates of cookies.  I sometimes think to myself that I would behave well if Fred just introduced me to the young(harlots) ladies. Maybe I could share the gems of wisdom that I gleaned over the years.

     The truth of the matter is, these girls don't stand a chance with me. I see them walking around after dark, with their loud voices and their cell phones and I recognize them. I know who they are without having a single conversation. I know them because I was them. My girls and I made almost every wrong choice to be made at the same age those girls are...and we loved it. Just like them. 

    Although I would love to envision a time when Fred and his friends will come hang out at our house again, I won't hold my breath.

My question for all of you parents of sons(sorry to the moms and dads of daughters), how do you talk with your boys about girls? How do you start that conversation about making good choices and how not to be influenced by kids with different values than your parents? How do you know when there has been enough said? 

Ode to Lewie

     Today I would like to share a day from my past..  When my boys were little, summer was (and still is) my favorite time to spend with them.  Back when Lewis was a toddler, I worked nights and mornings were an awful chore. The South Lake school district can verify this if you would like me to pull up some tardy/truancy/lady-why-can't -you-get-this-kid-to-school-on-time letters...poor Fred. Anyway, the point is mornings were never my strong suit. But our summer mornings were glorious.
     Our day would always start with our dog King. He is a big boned hairy beast of a gentle giant mutt. Our days usually began by letting the doggy out in our pajamas-with Lewis riding piggy back on me and Freddy holding the door. Our back yard is tiny, I mean small, I mean almost so small we are sitting in our neighbors yard when we barbecue. When my boys were small though, my yard was just the right size.
     While the dog was relieving himself, the boys and I would forage from our garden pieces of broccoli, string beans, snap peas and if we were lucky-very tiny strawberries. This would be our breakfast. Under the sun, with the dog--every day.
     OH--and of course, at a certain point before, after, or during our meal there was usually bubbles.  Both my boys loved to chase bubbles.Heck I still love bubbles. But when they were smaller we would find the biggest bubble wand and bowl  and have bubble extravaganza's. At a certain point during our morning, my little piece of green would be a frothing mess of bubbles and a medley assortment of giggles and barks and crashes as tables and people would topple over and bubbles would spill and vegetables would have to be re-picked.
     I miss those beautiful mornings. Obviously I am feeling a little melancholia today. My baby is 9 and my biggest is 13 (holy crap!) and our mornings have definitely changed. I ran across a poem I wrote for Lewis one  summer when he was about 2. He was super opinionated even then. I  think I wrote this for my benefit, to try and understand him a little better. It is short and sweet, I hope you like it.

Morning shimmers with delight of summer
Feather-like winds blow laughter
Sparkling dew glistens from shining eyes
Baby browns reminiscent of trees
Open defiance stout like pine
Love in skin like spring
Lewie