Arch Support

My former blog was named after the pointy-toed shoe, which pretty much says everything there is to say about my love for shoes. My weakness isn't solely (heh) reserved for the pointy-toe. Nope! Flats. Heels. Square-toe. Round-toe. Ankle boots. Knee high boots. Flip flops. Sneakers. (And yes, even Uggs.) I love them all.

I always thought shoes were a fascinating metaphor, for obvious reasons-- they carry us on our journey. They take us places. They cause us to walk taller, more confident... They trip us when we've had one too many and are acting asshole-ish. The most beautiful pairs hurt like a bitch. Our favorite pairs always scuff. Or break. Or stain.

But no matter my love for the beloved shoe, I've never gone so far as to sleep with them. Not even my treasured YSL's with the pointiest-pointy-point of all. Perhaps if I had had the same shoe fetish as a young child, though, things would be different.

Omigawd... Shoes...

For the first year and a half of Archer's life, he hated shoes. I had to pin him down and attach the various styles of Robeez to his kicking feet. Because that was the only shoe I could get on him quickly. The only shoe he couldn't remove:

One of my personal favorites, the 12-18 month Moccasin c/o East Coast Grandma...

But then, one day he began to take notice. Of shoes. Usually, mine. He hid objects in them. He took them on walks with us. He organized my flip-flops in neat little rows by the door. He bitch slapped the dogs with them.

Before long it wasn't just my shoes he was interested in...


...He soon became intrigued with his own...

But it wasn't until this Christmas/Hanukkah, when he received a new pair of big boy shoes that he became obsessed. At first I had to fight him to get them on. But after a few days, something, somewhere switched and he began, instead, to fight me when I took them off. He wanted to sleep in them. Bathe in them. Take them off only as long as I put them back on. He kissed them. Snuggled them. Became their best friend.

Like his red blankie, everywhere he went, his shoes came with. It worked out, usually because he was wearing them. And it works out, now, because he is still wearing them (In fact I just placed him in his crib all cozy in his pajamas, shoes and socks.) But here's the thing...

They're almost too small. And I can't find another size anywhere. Not in red and black. Not in the ones Archer loves so much...


And I wonder if it means something-- The shoe he loves only lasts several months. The beloved size 6's. Outgrown. Too small. Not ready to wear a bigger pair. Even when they're cowboy boots which are pretty neat. Is it profound or just weird? There's a fine line.

I can kind of relate. I remember when I was little I had a pair of Keds I could draw on with crayons and how one day they didn't fit. And I was sad because I remember thinking I was too old to buy the same pair. Because drawing on shoes was for little girls... Or whatever. So we threw them away.

There are shoes I wouldn't give up. You'd have to pry them from my cold, dead hands. So I understand. I know how it feels to trust their warmth. And sole. And arch support...

To walk a mile in Archer's shoes would be hard because they're way too small for me. But I have been beside him as he has.

And so, I continue on my quest to find these shoes in a size, 7, 8, and 9... Because I think I know how he feels.

A good shoe is hard to find.

GGC