Acceptance

Acceptance. We have to have it as a parent. Sometimes things happen, beyond our control, and...well....
Yesterday we went to WalMart. All 3 of us (the girls that is). Now, shopping with 3 females would never be considered wise. Far too many emotions in too close a space, ya know?
So there we are...barely to the toiletry section, already I'm wanting to escape. Not really, they really are fun to be with, even at WalMart. But you have to have a game plan and the game plan rarely, if ever, includes disaster. Get in. Get what you need. Keep Sophie from jumping out of the buggie. Keep Sarah busy so her "question time" is limited. Pay. Get out. Pray it all gets done before Sophie realizes she's surrounded by FOOD!!!
Where was I? Oh yeah.
Within 4 minutes I look down to discover....*gasp*....one of Sophie's treasured shoes is GONE!!! How? It was just there???!!!! In milliseconds I knew it could be anywhere from the van to our current isle. This seems like nothing to you doesn't it? Turn around and go get it. Big deal. You don't understand. I don't even understand. All I knew is that bringing attention to that shoe-less foot was going to be a major, MAJOR, kink in our chain.
A disastrous injury in our line-up.
I looked back. Nothing.
Oh Lord. Not that pink shoe...oooooohhhh no. The reality was setting in. *I* had a major attachment to that shoe. This is Sophie's most favorite pair of "jooes". They are a part of her and everything I remember about her last 6 months! This crazy, ugly pair of $6 "jooes" were never, evah!, going to leave my possession.
I felt it all welling up inside me. I couldn't go back from fear that I would have a total melt down there in WalMart with my 2 precious, in the flesh, children...over a pair of shoes!!!
I blocked it out.
Kept with the plan.
As I approached the dairy section, some well-intentioned, but obviously clueless mom said, "you lost a shoe. wasn't sure if you noticed."
I managed a cordial enough response.
I retraced our steps on our way to the check-out. I searched the van. And tonight I've finally accepted it.
The other shoe is gone.
The pair is no more.
And now, one lonely pink shoe sits on top of the bookshelf. And Sophie noticed it. "joo" she said. "Yes baby, joo."
Thank God for "puppy" and "aggghhhh" (that's all she'll say for her blankie). Sarah didn't have too many attachments. Just blankie and me. :) But Sophie has them in spades.
I'm glad.
Lots of sweet memories.
So next time you see an ugly pink croc-like shoe, remember Sophie...remember "joo".