Mom shoes

So, Ben’s “end of the school year” torture fest was last week–an event in which he flatly refused to participate.  He hates those things.  All the people and change in routine send him into a meltdown frenzy.  He did sing with a few of the songs–sitting next to us of course–but refused to join his compadres on stage.

But this isn’t what i am writing about.  Sure the kids were cute in their costumes, singing their little songs, dancing their little dance.  I mean, you’d have to be a douchbag to not find them adorable.

But since my son wasn’t participating, it gave me an opportunity to make some other observations.  I knew walking in that this event would give me blog material in some form.  As a large percentage of the parents in this class are of latin american descent, I thought i would write about how these things always turn into some sort of regional tamale cook-off (there’s always three different kinds–including one from the teacher herself, that you’d BETTER try lest she beat your child when you’re not looking)  have i mentioned (and yes, i know i’m going to hell for this) that i don’t even LIKE tamales?  So yeah, i was prepared to take pics of the different dishes and have some sort of snarky food network challenge spoof.

Except noone made tamales this time.  WHA?

So what’s a girl to write about?

I’ll tell you what she’s gonna write about.  Shoes.  I began to notice that with all the different kind of moms there, there were subsequently different kinds of shoes that defined those moms.

These were my shoes that day:

I think they say what needs to be said.  Comfy, retro, hipster (yeah right) maybe a little more nerdy than imagined.

There were a few of these (which had been my first choice, but it was rainy, and i’m in desperate need of a pedicure)

I feel these moms.  We speak the same language.  This shoe says, “look, i’ve got shit to do and no time to be tying shoelaces.  And my feet hurt.”

There was the put together yuppie/hipster mom sporting these nice sandles with a nice skirt and a nice top.  I have to say she seemed a little “uncomfortable” with all the non-english speakers around her.  She must be new to LA.  Or the Valley.  Or Life.

And then there was the photographer mom with the very expensive digital SLR who was chronicling the whole event.  Really–she was taking pictures for the teacher.  Her kid is adorable, and one of the ladies in my sons corral, so i can’t hate much here.  Except that she does the “walking on her pants” situation with the heels of these boots that make me wanna smack her to ruining those jeans that barely cover her butt in the first place.

And then there were these:

um…you do KNOW this is a pre school event, yeah?  Because while i am confident about my walking/running in heels ability, I KNOW i couldn’t tear after Ben in these:

What is this?  Club Play-doh? You gonna wait at the bar for the barkeep to get you a caprisun?  Hey honeys, check out my sweet new ride–THREE wheels with spinning rims.

Don’t mind me. I’m just jealous, because i don’t even think i could squeeze my gargantuan flat feet into anything remotely resembling these.  And if they can wear these, make tamales and still chase their kids?  well, they win.

Categories: Uncategorized | 10 Comments

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10 thoughts on “Mom shoes

  1. Did you really go around taking pictures of everybody’s shoes just so you could blog about it?

    If yes…. how I love you.

  2. Patricia

    I gotta tell you what I saw at my kids’ school….

    Let’s start at the shoe and make our way up….

    The shoe’s were 7-inch, fire engine RED, vinyl or patent-leather, peep-toe heels.

    Skin tight blue jeans, narrow ankle, with a swirl design and glitter on the back pockets.

    Animal print (I think it was cheetah), short-sleeved blouse, of very light-weight material. Belted with a wide-elastic, black belt. The blouse was open with a white tank top underneath.

    Long, black, smooth hair and a TON of makeup.

    All I could think was “Mommy Hooker”. Or, “Dad Diversion”.

  3. Patricia

    Oh, hey, mommies in the last pictures…

    They don’t make the tamales. I know where they buy them. Or, they get them from their grandma. (Because their mom is standing next to them in a similar outfit.)

  4. Love the slippers! But then again, you know that. The first sandles, nice, functional, comfy. The last two are screaming “Lady of the Night.”

  5. Mom

    I am with you on the tamales and I was raised here – I just don’t get it. Of course, it would be shoes but purses would not have been much of a suprise either :)

  6. Sarah

    Good one on coming up with something at such short notice. My husband always notices people’s shoes. I’m more of a teeth lady. Anyways…

    Can we talk more about the “No Tamales Debacle of 2011″. Seriously, what went wrong? Are you concerned? I am.

    Are you sure that you were at the right “end of school year torture fest” (I mean there must be more than one right?).

    Could there be a shortage of corn meal due to increased number of livestock (because I’m so sure that there’s lot of livestock in LA, what do I know, I’m just a small town girl from Canada where we definitely have corn meal shortage issues due to increased livestock).

    Maybe you got there late and everyone ate them? Maybe they were in a “special” room. Maybe Ben’s teacher knew that you were going to post about it and decided to mess with your head?

    Sorry about the sidetrack.

    I’m a flip-flop gal minus a pedicure.

  7. How cool is it that you took pictures of everyone’s shoes?! I wish I had your guts to try something like that!

    • don’t get me wrong–i totally had to do it on the sly–and i think one or two parents were on to me. But they prolly just thought i was some loca white girl…

  8. Reblogged this on This Side of Typical and commented:

    Today we head to Ben’s end of the year program and culmination. A fun time to be had by all! Unless, of course, you are my son.

    He really hates these things. We don’t know what it is, but after a few weeks of singing all the songs at home–driving me batty–he REFUSES to participate every year the minute we get there. We’ve got a few tricks up our sleeve this year, but for now, here’s a repost of last year, and my *ahem* observations…

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