The funny things he says...

The other day I talked about how my crazy kid was talking a bunch, non stop, all the time, whether I understand him or not.

It's funny because though most times I completely know what he is saying there are the times when he says something and waits for a response and then looks at me as if to say, "Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?"

Either way we have entered into a very precious time. The time where"kids say the darndest things." I'm loving it. Every night my husband and I relay to each other the things he says and does and its just very sweet.

He is consistently putting a smile on my face by the things he says.

For example, yesterday I had to get to church early for Praise and Worship practice. His father was making him breakfast and I was in my room doing my hair.

I had been in my closet for about 15 minutes just starring at the display of clothes that all do not fit.

I was a little sad and very frustrated. So I proceeded to put on the same denim skirt that I had worn three times last week and a black top.

Earrings were in my lobes, necklace, rings and bracelets were all on. And of course, pretty shoes.

I looked in the mirror and thought, "this is as good as it's gonna get."

I walked out of the room and kissed my husband when beautiful kid walks in the kitchen and says, "Wow mama, you pretty." But the best part was what he said next.

Now, please be aware that I have no idea where or how or why he said this or where he picked this up. I really don't know.

So after, "Wow mama, you pretty," he asks, "You go dancing?"

Dancing? I wish! Why dancing? I don't know. I mean, yes my husband and I dance in the kitchen often, but usually I am in a t-shirt and shorts.

I don't know how his little mind thinks, but I was sure greatful for it.

I think maybe I will wear that denim skirt a few more times.

Addictions

I Love shoes. I have an addiction to shoes. I'm currently in a support group for this addiction because my beloved said I had to get a hold of this habit. He said it was tearing apart our credit cards, not to mention his heart everytime he opened a statement. He has me under careful watch considering he's the only one in my support group, which I suppose would make him my counselor. So therefore, if I fall off the wagon, he's the one to blame.

I had a breakthrough the other day when I realized when this love of shoes began.

This is my story:

I was 15. A freshman in a strict academic private school. We did not have fun in school, we were there to learn. We had college textbooks, because college was the goal. There was no time for social activities, football games or flirtations. We were there to get an education, get into the country's top universities and become lawyers and doctors.

We wore uniforms because mornings should not be wasted on thoughts of "what to wear."

These uniforms were plain and simple, for there was no time for fashion. They were made of synthetic fabrics like polyester, nylon and 15% cotton.

The goal of such uniforms was to make sure the girls looked square. No curves allowed, for curves are distractions, especially to the post pubesent boys.

They succeeded. No curves are found in khaki, box pleated skirts and square, dark blue sweater vests.

No curves, no color and if you showed too much skin you would get a blue uniform violation slip and be sent to detention for an hour.

"I will not be different. I will conform to the uniform standard that is set in place for the success of my education and future career."

Everything was uniformed...except the shoes.

We were able to wear anykind of shoe, that is as long as they were brown, black or navy blue.

And so...every summer I went on the hunt for the perfect shoes: One brown pair and one black pair.

I rebelled against the 1 inch heel rule, just as I rebelled against the rule that stated all skirts must hit below the knee cap. And whenever certain teachers came around, I would do this thing where I would bend just a little and get shorter (which isn't too difficult when you barely reach 5'5" in two inch heels) and they wouldn't seem to notice the rebel that I was when it came to fashion.

Once out of high school, that desire to have the perfect shoes followed me.

Shoes make me happy, because there is a satisfaction in shoes that no other kind of clothing can give you. Whether they be mules, slingbacks, stilletos or even cute flip flops, you can always find a good pair of shoes (except for esperadille's, they make my ankles look fat.)

But there is truth in what I am saying. It doesn't matter what stage of life I'm in, I can always find shoes that make me feel...pretty. During those wretched " lady days" when nothing fits, my shoes always fit. During most other days when nothing fits, I can always find shoes.

I go on these hunts for perfect shoes. Many times, when events are coming near, I will pick the shoes before I choose the dress. I will spend countless hours going from store to store, comparing, admiring, etc.

I haven't felt my feet since 1998, but that's ok with me, because as far as I'm concerned, the prettier the shoe, the more they hurt.

This is why my husband thinks I have a problem. That, and I tend not to notice how much I spend. But is that really a problem? I can control it anytime I want to.

I'll prove it. I will walk into Aldo's and not buy anything. I'll head over there right now. Where's that wagon?

P.S - I found these at http://www.piperlime.com/. I love that site, they have great shoes for good prices and if you are lucky you can find them on clarance. These of course are not on clearance. Are they not the hottest shoes ever! I'm coveting them so much!