Where are my children's shoes?! Where? What do they do with them? Seriously? Ahhhhhhh! Please tell me that other people have this problem. That you are supposed to be at the ballpark in no more than six minutes and for some reason your kids cleats have actually dissapated into thin air. That your husband is screaming at your whole family to get in the car because you're late for church, and at least two of your kids don't know where their left shoe is. That your kids own more shoes apiece than most African villages, yet when you are in a killing rush to get out the door then the only thing you can come up with is a pair of plastic spider-man flip-flops. No? It's just my family? I'm the only one who has a disaster of a house where shoes are buried beneath stuffed animals and toys and poptart wrappers and beach towels and dirty laundry (all which were not there last night mind you)? I'm the only one who's children drop their shoes in the kitchen, in the car, outside by the trampoline, in the bathroom, under the bed, at the ballpark and where ever else in the world the spirit moves them? I'm doubting it. I'm just saying.......I need some sort of great suggestion for the shoes besides the whole "have them put them away" advice. It sounds great in theory, but then I spend half my day chasing after them, making sure stuff is put away, saying every five seconds "put those away. where is your sister? put those away. where is your sister?" and that is equally exhausting and awful. (I already have to ask the sister question all the time because she is a curious litte escape artist monstrosity)
Seriously, the other night I made Turnanator go to the Mexican restaurant with one shoe on and one shoe off because I was so mad that he couldn't find it. I'm a crazy lady. It's easy to spot me in a crowd with the swirling eyes, snakes in my head, and loud, one-shoed children. So next time you see one of my boys playing baseball in flip-flops, don't judge us. Just love us anyway and accept the fact that the chaos is what makes us interesting. And awesome. And weird.
Love ya' like not accidentally looking at porn (see below),
Cassie
P.S. - I looked at the word "cleats" so long that it didn't look like a word anymore. So to check the spelling I decided the quickest thing to do would be to go to the website of a sporting goods store. I immediately think of Dick's and type in dicks.com. Luckily that was right, but for a split second after pressing enter I got really extra scared that I had done something awful. (if you were just offended by that - sorry. if you don't get it - good for you)
Seriously, the other night I made Turnanator go to the Mexican restaurant with one shoe on and one shoe off because I was so mad that he couldn't find it. I'm a crazy lady. It's easy to spot me in a crowd with the swirling eyes, snakes in my head, and loud, one-shoed children. So next time you see one of my boys playing baseball in flip-flops, don't judge us. Just love us anyway and accept the fact that the chaos is what makes us interesting. And awesome. And weird.
Love ya' like not accidentally looking at porn (see below),
Cassie
P.S. - I looked at the word "cleats" so long that it didn't look like a word anymore. So to check the spelling I decided the quickest thing to do would be to go to the website of a sporting goods store. I immediately think of Dick's and type in dicks.com. Luckily that was right, but for a split second after pressing enter I got really extra scared that I had done something awful. (if you were just offended by that - sorry. if you don't get it - good for you)
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