Harrison has only one pair of shoes that he's actively worn since learning how to walk. We bought them from a vendor on the side of the street at a fun neighborhood event called CicLaVia. Harrison was >thisclose< to walking independently and we decided we Needed these shoes because they were made by a work at home mom and are/were adorable soft-soled leather moccasins with a fun pattern sewn in cotton on the top.
He tore through the cotton upper in no time, since he was still crawling a lot, but Jer sewed it back together and the shoes remained functional and still cute, just a bit weathered.
We went to the park a few months ago and he played hard in the sand at a water table and the shoes became so dirty and wet and unrecognizable that I left them in the car for a few days, annoyed that we had let that happen. Then I cleaned them off the best I could and Harrison continued to wear them- dirty and weathered but they were still shoes.
Sometime between then and now, Harrison has proven to be a lover of shoes. One of his craziest melt-downs to date was brought to surface when my one pair of high heels wouldn't stay on his feet. He constantly puts his feet in my shoes, Jer's shoes, friend's shoes. He gets very, very excited when I tell him it's time to put his shoes on. I started to feel bad that his one pair was becoming so battered, but I suppose all the same it did show how much they were loved.
Over the past few weeks his toes have been wearing holes through the front and this week the shoes could barely be called functional. I reached out to people who think similarly to me and found a few brands of soft-soled shoes that had good reviews, and finally ordered Harrison's second pair of shoes on Sunday.
Then on Wednesday I realized he needed new shoes sooner than the two week(?!) shipping on the pair of my choice. So I Amazon-Primed a different pair, figuring that the variety would be good anyway, and eagerly awaited Friday- new shoes day.
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It's been a weird week. Harrison has been slightly sick with a cough and mild fever, and on top of that an event on Tuesday led him to receive a puncture wound to his cheek. I've been at odds with myself, and with the cause and the damage all week. An endless trail of thoughts all leading to wishing I would have/could have prevented it. Reliving the moments it happened every time I look at him. Stressing about his environment so that it won't happen again or something worse.
I'm taking care of the wound with alternative medicine, while keeping an active eye on it and second guessing myself every step of the way. I broke down and used some Neosporin last night, more an act of fear than anything else. He can't tell me how he's truly feeling and I'm over-analyzing every move he's making. It's looking better than it was, but he's my baby and it's a puncture wound. And so the doubting cycle continues and continues.
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Work yesterday was low key and enjoyable. The kids napped at separate times, which would normally frustrate me because it means I don't get a break, but I allowed myself the room to enjoy one-on-one time with each of them- and it truly was enjoyable.
In the early afternoon I told Harrison we were going for a walk. "Go get your shoes," I told him, "Bring them over here and I will put them in your feet." And off went my 16-month-old, searching for his worn-out shoes, finding them, bringing them over to me, and patiently allowing me to put them on his feet. His level of comprehension astounds me most days; it's so crazy how quickly they learn and understand.
I strapped the baby in the carrier, and had Griffey on his leash to the left of me and held Harrison's hand in my right hand, and we went on what I figured was our last walk with Harrison's fallen-apart shoes. And it was the sweetest walk. He actually held my hand for a good 15 minutes, and we easily lazed our way down the road, pointing at whatever looked exciting, passing the time just existing all together. We ended up in front of a house with wind-chimes, and Harrison stood there enthralled for a good ten minutes, listening for the chimes and doing his form of dancing any time he heard them. I felt free in and so relished the sweet, unscripted moments.
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We arrived home after work to find the package containing new shoes(!) I unwrapped them, Harrison sitting next to me, and I made a small big deal about how they were new shoes just for him. I sat him on the table so I could put them on for him ... and then I struggled to get his (beautiful) fat feet through the elastic opening and on his foot well. I persevered and he was patient with me and he eventually had both shoes on his feet. He went running off into the other room, and then came running back out, with a big smile on his face, staring down at his feet with those new shoes on. I took them off after about a half hour, and noticed the elastic had left a too-deep groove all around his ankles.
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I think I was hoping Harrison's new shoes would bring everything full circle. He woke up yesterday morning with the puncture wound looking better, we had our idyllic last walk in his old shoes, the whole day felt zen-like. But we got home and I became concerned again about his cheek, and then his new shoes didn't fit, and I think I'm going to return them.
So here I am, essentially (new) shoe-less and still worried about my baby's health. Not all hope is lost, and I have confidence for healing, but at the time of writing this, there is no pretty little package with a bow on top (if there were, I'm hopeful it would contain shoes that fit.) Here's to tomorrow, one day closer to the full-circle.
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