My son is picking me up in the suburbs tomorrow to take me back to the city. On the way back, we’re going to go shoe shopping. He really needs new shoes. He’s off, not back to school until Friday (don’t ask me… they’re between semesters but the first day back is on a Friday) so I said to him “if not now, when?”.

Ha.

This has been my mantra since I turned 50 which was about a two dozen years ago. (Four years, if you want to know the truth, but it feels longer.)

Anyway, the reason I’m pushing the man child to go shoe shopping now, before he gets back into the last semester of heavy work load plus varsity hockey plus rep hockey plus night school plus social life plus enormous amounts of sleep is because one day a couple of weeks ago someone asked me to move the car so they could pull the other one in to unload something heavy. I forgot my shoes were at the back door – I left them there because they were muddy from when I was outside with Tucker. Anyway, I saw my son’s runners sitting there so I slipped them on and went to move the car.

But the inside of the shoes felt weird. Like there was something in them, like sand or pebbles or other outdoor debris.

Once I got back in the house I looked, and noticed the sole on the inside of the shoe was completely falling apart. I took out all the pieces, then turned the shoe around to drop the rest of it out, and suddenly there was almost no shoe sole left.

How can he walk around like that?

So I told him about it and he said he was fine.

They always say that. (He’s not fine, the shoe will fall apart at some key moment when he can’t afford the time to go shoe shopping.)

I gave him an insole I had in the shoe bin I keep in a hall closet and told him to go buy new shoes, or I will take him if he wants company.

Fast forward to several weeks later and I can bet you my entire stash of chocolate that the man child is still using his old shoes.

In his defense, they still look like new on the outside. They’re good quality runners and to the naked eye, you can’t tell that the inside of the shoe, the inner part of sole, is almost worn through.

So weird.

I’m going to make him stop at a shoe place on the way home and get him new runners.

Meanwhile, I’m already mourning leaving my room with a door. Back in the city I only have a space at the main dining room table, and none of my stuff is there anymore. I won’t have my tarot table, my Boldly Chic Boutique jewelry and birch bark shop, my supplies, or my private writing corner.

The door part to my room is my favorite… meh.

But that’s ok. I’m looking forward to connecting with the kids and the family, and Tucker will be ecstatic. Sonja has practice at 9 pm which kind of sucks (the time, not the fact that she has an activity) but it is what it is. The end of childhood is near, and I’m going to enjoy every last moment for as long as I can (and keep reminding myself to do just that at 10 pm in a cold rink, hah).

Truth be told, I like my life. I like the half week on, half week off. I like being an entrepreneur when I’m childless in the suburbs, and I like being a family member when I’m in the city the rest of the week.

It works, kind of, and we’re managing.

I’m cooking stew to take back to the family as we speak – they may not be here with me in the burbs, but they are constantly in my peripherals. And they’ll be happy to have a mom-cooked meal to eat; not that they don’t like dad’s cooking, he is a great cook, but it’s different. I don’t know how, it just is.

Plus, having a kid who can drive is bonus! I left him my car because I really don’t need it when I’m in the burbs with my mom, and this gives him a bit of flexibility and freedom. But he’s on the hook for picking me up (and dropping me off) which has proven some nice bonding moments between us.

Let’s hope the shoe shopping will be a great success for my boy, not me. I do not need new shoes… (do I?) 😉

So there you have it. A little glimpse into my world. Stay tuned just in case there is new shoes news. 😀

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