My mom is getting married. I know! That’s big news. But that’s not what I want to write about today. Today, I want to talk about shopping with a tween. Cady is a junior bridesmaid in the wedding, which she tells anyone who will listen. Yesterday we went shopping for shoes to go with her dress. Let me tell you… NOTHING in my parenting experience to date has prepared me for shopping with a tween.
We went to every single store in the mall, and several stores not in the mall, too look for shoes for Cady to wear to the wedding. From Dillard’s to Macy’s and Shoe Envy to Payless, no store was spared our attention. Cady tried on so many pairs of shoes that by the end of the day she said her feet hurt. At one point my mother said, “price doesn’t matter,” causing me to cringe.
We experienced everything from tears, from Cady, to frustration, from me. By 7:00 last night I was done, completely done. Let me take you on our journey.
Adorable, heeled sandals in a two-tone gold (her dress is ivory with gold threading and a gold sequined belt):
“Mom. Those are just so… ugh. Look at the top. Those two different whatevers make my head hurt. I can’t take that.”
Translation – Different textures are an abomination and should be burned for the heathen sorcery they are.
Super cute, glitter flats:
“Mom. My toes are all closed in. And flats? Really mom. Are you serious?”
Translation – Flats are for babies. Glitter is for babies. Shoes that cover your toes are for babies.
Gold, embellished pumps:
“Mom. I said sparkle. That’s not sparkle. That’s bling.”
Translation – I have no freaking idea. I still have zero clue what the difference is between bling and sparkle. As far as I can make out bling equals some kind of shiny beading and sparkle is sequins. Rhinestones are rhinestones and should not be mistaken for bling or sparkle. I know. WTF?
Sequined, gold, heeled sandals:
“I love them!”
You give them an inch and they want to take two and half. I’m not even sure she could walk in these.
We came home with my mom promising Cady she would not stop until the perfect shoes are found. My mother is exhibiting a wealth of patience that she never showed when I was Cady’s age. When asked about this, she declared, “You have to learn to pick your battles.”
Touche Mom. They are back out shopping today. I’m picking my battle and staying at home. Besides, I’m pretty sure I’m no longer welcome.