A Beans' Rite of Passage

Sometimes while gazing rapturously upon my Beans (generally this only happens when they're sleeping) all I can see is Hubby. Although they look hardly anything alike I see so much of him in them that sometimes, I admit, I feel a little diminished-- as though my genetic contribution didn't really show up in the end results. Occasionally though, one or the other will do something that smacks of Mommy, like Parki tickling herself (guilty) or Pipsi shoving a huge handful of something into her mouth (guilty again) and I'll feel a bubbly happiness in my heart at the unexpected bond I feel with that Bean. On Wednesday it felt so good I almost cried.


The Beans are finally walking around consistently well enough for them to wear real shoes. Being both a preparedness freak and a tightwad, I've already bought several barely-worn pairs from a couple other twin moms, however, I realized when I *tried* to put them on the Beans' feet last week that my plan was not going to work out as I'd hoped. In fact, it wasn't going to work out at all.


A quick count reveals no fewer than eight pairs of ridiculously cute, fashionable, girly shoes in our house between sizes 5 and 6 1/2, most of them either matching or coordinating (with another pair, not between themselves of course). Now that it's time for the Beans to wear them, neither one can wear any of them. Sigh. I was so disappointed that all my preparation was for naught. "They're twins," I had thought. "How much difference could there be between their feet sizes?" I had reasoned while buying all those lovely shoes that will now languish in the closet. But I'm also an optimist by nature and never, ever have I been a woman disappointed at the prospect of the opportunity that now presented itself:


SHOE SHOPPING!!!!


From the moment we discovered the hint of ladybits in the ultrasound (well, a little while after that actually, because discovering their genders made the entire "twins" thing suddenly terrifyingly real but that's another post entitled, "Oh My God, This Is Really Happening!") I had been eagerly anticipating the arrival of shoe-shopping companions. Shoe shopping is fun no matter who's getting new shoes. I like shoe shopping for Biscuit, and I've done it for pretty much everyone in my life, even DPSM and Uncle Mac. I'll even shoe shop for nobody at all because just the smell of new shoes is beautiful. But shoe shopping for little girls with all the cute, sparkly, shiny, pinkness and all the lights and glitter and happy butterflies and flowers that adorn the sweet little articles that will encase four of the cutest, softest, squooshiest little feet on the planet? I finally realized that this was why I'd spent so many countless hours of my adult life honing my super shopping skills to the finest possible point! That's the reason why when we arrived home from the "They're girls!" ultrasound that Hubby plopped his wallet on the counter next to me, mumbled, "I give up," and shuffled out to his office in the garage, shoulders slumped in defeat. I told you, he's a smart guy.


Anyhoo, as you know we have a Sasquatch and a ballerina as far as feet go. After feeling absolutely terrible about trying to stuff Pipsi's feet into anything besides Robeez (imagine trying to squeeze a kielbasa into a Coke bottle-- not a pretty thought, is it?) and searching fruitlessly online (do I buy four in different sizes and return three? or all of them if they don't fit? what do I do???) I decided this was one item to purchase at a real honest-to-goodness store, consult with a professional and, if necessary, pay full price.


So that's what Mimzi and I did yesterday. We loaded the Beans, Big Red and all their travel paraphernalia into the Starship Margaret and headed off to World of Shoes. We arrived and the Beans squealed in delight at the acres of shoes within their tight-fisted grasps while I felt that bonding feeling bubbling up inside of me. An employee asked if she could help us and I claimed her as our own for the duration of our stay. We did Pipsi first because she was squirmier and because Parki usually ends up going first.


"I think she's going to need something wide," I commented, disentangling her and Stick Fish from the stroller's straps and holding her, legs dangling, thrashing and kicking, above the obligatory professional shoe-store foot-measuring-fortune-telling device. Pipsi plopped one big beefy foot on it and stomped on it a couple of times for good measure (pun intended-- sorry, I can't help it!) before we were able to get her to shift her weight onto that one foot for an accurate assessment.


"Wow, definitely a Wide," Nice Salesgirl commented. "How old is she? They? Are they twins?"


"Yep, almost fourteen months. And their feet are completely different," I responded, feeling bad for my pretty little Pipsi. No woman at any point in her life needs to have a "Wide" label applied to any part of her body. Ever.


"Okay, well she's right at a five-and-a-half, so let's try a six, and like I said definitely a Wide," declared Nice Salesgirl, oblivious to my wince.


Now, it just so happens that this shoe store (which, coincidentally has been the same exact store in the same exact place since probably before I was the Beans' age because I can remember my parents taking me there many, many times for shoes growing up) came highly recommended by several moms in the MoMs club-- fellow moms of wide-footed whippersnappers. It must be the case that all parents of wide-footed kids shop here because in all the styles we considered (the ones with soles flexible enough for the Beans to actually walk rather than plod stiff-footed), there was only one pair of shoes that fit our little Pippers, but that was okay. One was all we needed.


Nice Salesgirl got the little pink-and-white Nikes on Pipsi's great big feet, suffering blows to her fingers, wrists and forearms without batting an eye, tied the laces and Pipsi was off to the races, stumbling at first, but then finding her rhythm, taking off and dragging Mimzi along behind her by the finger, giggling as she went. Pipsi was pleased.


Then came Parki's turn. After writhing around in Big Red and voicing her displeasure at being held captive against her will while Pipsi got to run around the Shoe Playground, we set Parki loose and she ran up to a little boy nearby. She stood there in her little white socks, eyeing his toy. He saw her encroaching and picked up his toy, clutching it to his chest and saying, "Nooooo."

Parki was undeterred.


"Hiyeeeee," she said, the last part coming out sounding a little like a growl.


"Nooooo," again said her intended victim.


"Sorry, she's very outgoing. I think she wants his number," I said to the cute little boy's mother and (I assume) grandmother. They didn't seem amused. Parki and I returned to the very important, future-telling foot-measuring device and got the news.


"Oh, my gosh, they are completely different! She's just at a four, so we should find her a four-and-a-half, and definitely not a Wide," determined Nice Salesgirl. Four-and-a-half. So be it. Nice Salesgirl has spoken.


Of course there were no four-and-a-half-sized sneakers anywhere to be found. We tried fours: too small. We tried fives: too big. Pipsi occasionally dragged Mimzi over to our aisle, guffawing for a couple of seconds at her own cleverness before gallavanting off in her magical big-Bean shoes to explore the rubber-boot aisle, Mimzi in tow. Parki kept working on wriggling out of my grasp to go flirt with her new boyfriend, who was trying to climb into the Beans' stroller while his mom and grandma were looking the other way. Nice Salesgirl looked all over the store and finally reported back to us that the stock guy "doesn't even write for four-and-a-half".


"What does that mean?" I had to ask for clarification because I don't speak Shoestore (but considering the amount of time I've spent in shoe stores that is a little surprising).


"He doesn't even order them," she explained. Oh. Okay. Crap. Now what? This was not what we'd anticipated! It was supposed to be easy little feet and difficult big feet, not the other way around!


We bought Pipsi's shoes, not even bothering to try removing them from her feet, and will definitely shop there again anytime she needs more and we will for Parki too once her feet are a little bigger. I found her some tiny walkers on Amazon that'll arrive next week. Since we're planning their first visit to the pumpkin patch on Saturday, she can get by with some little boots that we were saving in the closet for her. The rest of the Beans' beautiful shoes will just be toys now until Parki grows into them so when we went home, guess what we played with?



Pipsi in her new Nikes


Parki in her Ecco boots, practicing for walking the pumpkin patch.

And if you're worried that Parki will have a hard time in boots that are a half-size large for her, you can see here that it isn't going to be a big deal.


I think the only thing we have to worry about now is keeping up with them. At least if we lose Pipsi we can just follow the biggest footprints we can find. Parki will probably be found smack in the middle of a bunch of cute boys.

But they will both certainly be well-shod Beans-- a trait they definitely inherited from their mom.