Parenting Without A License

Finding Function For the Form

Posted by Kimberly on May 28th, 2008 — Posted in The Ladies, The Agony and The Entropy, Kipple

I didn’t really mean it the other day when I said I had too many shoes. Really, how can anyone have too many shoes? It’s just not possible! Unless, maybe, the shoes in question no longer fit the feet for which they are intended. Then there might possibly be an issue–especially if the owner of said shoes is unwilling to part with them, despite their apparent loss of functionality.

It’s been well documented over the years that I have a bit of a thing for shoes. What has been less apparent–although will probably come as no surprise–is that this fetish of mine extends beyond myself to include the feet of my children as well as my own. In fact, The Ladies might possibly have cuter shoes than I do. The problem is, unlike me, they keep outgrowing theirs. And therein lies the problem.

The very idea of simply throwing them away strikes me with the same visceral reaction that some other mothers have when it is suggested that they really need not save the baby teeth (ew!); what your baby’s molars and incisors are to you, my baby’s outgrown sandals and sneakers are to me. Except that baby teeth are so much easier to simply tuck in the back of your jewelry box.

So, what to do with the wee footwear that I can no longer force onto tiny feet, but also cannot force myself to part with? Well, used to be that I simply left it all in a heap on the bottom of the hall closet, but my recent organizational spree has eliminated that as an option. And somehow, storing non-functional items in the Magical Pockets of Delight seems….wrong.

Putting them on display so that I can continue to enjoy their form long after their functionality has fallen by the wayside, however? Seemed like the perfect idea. And so, the red dinosaur rainboots Diva Girl refused to take off in the store, the strappy rainbow sandals I loved so much I’ve bought a similar pair every year since, the sparkly pink jelly shoes that have long since faded to orange, the ladybug shoes that marry two of my favourite things, and the matching pairs of Irish dance slippers (No, they don’t dance; I just liked the shoes) now reside in style on shadow boxes on the wall outside the bathroom door rather than gathering dust in the back of the closet.

It pleases me to have them out on display like this, these random talismans of my children’s childhoods. It’s possibly a bit odd, creating wall art out of outgrown shoes, but it’s a lot less icky than putting a bunch of lost baby teeth on display.