The Real Sasquatch

It's a little embarrassing to admit, but here goes.

If you've had a baby chances are you know about the foot-growth phenomenon that occurs during pregnancy. First there's the swelling, then the spreading. Then there's giving birth and recovery, and then the fluids slowly leave the mother's body-- a relief like nothing else. I've been exceedingly fortunate to snap back to pre-pregnancy size very quickly, albeit with plenty of extra skin around the middle, due largely to the fact that I never relax (but that's another post entitled "Living On The Razor's Edge of A Huge Manic Meltdown" which will be written in some kind of buzzing, vibrating font and probably impossible to read since it'll be written from my exclusive, padded room in whichever fine institution they end up committing me).

Alas, my feet have not enjoyed the same happy ending as the rest of my body. I'm just a tad over 5'2" and yes, the tad counts. Any little bit counts when you're under 5'7". When I graduated high school, my feet were between a size 6 1/2 and a 7. Then Biscuit was born and I moved up to a 7 or 7 1/2. Fast-forward to my post-Bean body and I am now just about an 8. Momma never warned me about this.

Hubby's mom is just about the same height as me and she wears a 6. My Grandma is about two inches shorted than me and wears a 5. My awesome next-door neighbor TMNT is just a little shorter than I and can fit into kids' size shoes. And I'm an 8. In other words, compared to my petite peers, I am Bigfoot.

All along I thought it was an anomaly, that my disproportionately huge feet were a little practical joke Mother Nature slipped into my DNA. After all, Mimzi was a beauty queen and I came out looking pretty much exactly like Dad. Haha, very funny. And all throughout my pregnancy with the Beans including the painful cankles and feet-swelling, I figured the Beans would both come out petite, especially since they were so close in size in utero and within two ounces and half an inch of each other at birth.

But we noticed almost immediately that Pipsi's hands and feet were bigger than Pooki's. Not by just a little bit, either. Our focus in the early days was on more basic issues of course, like their breathing and eating habits, but as time has passed and they've both proven to be more than proficient at both, we can solemny declare that Pooki has Daddy's eyes, nose, head, chin and jaw, and her Gran's dainty little hands and feet, Pippers looks an awful lot like her Papa and has Mommy's great big hands and FEET. Parki is still wearing 6-12-month size Robeez, and Pipsi's just about to outgrow the 12-18's.

Sigh. At the moment I can't think of many redeeming qualities of big feet and hands. She'll be in high demand at summer camp when it comes to squashing bugs. Maybe she'll have a slight advantage in arm-wrestling and perhaps at juggling. Arguably, she'll get more of her money's worth out of a pedicure because there will be more surface area to buff and massage. She'll probably be able to open pickle jars by herself, but if she also inherited my dislike for pickles that'll be a moot point.

I guess I'm a little bummed to have passed on that gene. But on the flip side, Pipsi and her twin are both beautiful little girls with gorgeous blue eyes, great senses of humor and are both very quick to smile their big, happy, light-up-the-world smiles. And, on the bright side for them, at least they'll probably never have to share shoes with each other.