Let’s Get Some Shoes

Hi! It’s me! Slacker blogger at your service. Man oh man, life is crazy and busy. Here is a recap of this week. My broken gallbladder is still broken. I’m working way too many hours. My boss is brain dead. My insurance is in limbo. My paycheck was way off, not in my favor.

Mr. Lane is working crazy long hours too. It’s harvest season. He also brought home a stray… person… to live with us… without warning. The upside to that is we know him. They work together and he isn’t a random homeless person, like the last one I picked up roadside. Our new stray is a story for another day, I reckon.

Most days I feel a little tired and crabby, unlike my mother who was always sick and tired. Oh, that’s a blog for another day too.



The highlight of the week was getting our garage. The mega bonus, my in-laws paid for the whole thing as thanks for the deck we built for them. It was really weird and kind of cool. As I was leaving for work, the garage guys were pulling into the driveway. When I came home, it was finished. Now Mr. Lane has his little hideout and is happier than a pig in shit.

Now, on with the real reason we are here today. This video is what makes this story ten times funnier.



The kids and I have watched this a thousand times in the last year, and we still giggle. (Strong language warning)

When I was a kid and crushed on some random boy, I carried out the typical swooning girl torture techniques. I’d offer up daily shin kicks, pencil pokes, and an occasional hallway shoelace stomp. I wasn’t mean or anything, I was simply trying to get the attention I so rightly deserved. And anytime a boy fell, due to my mad shoelace stomping skillz, I always offered a hand to help him back to his feet. See, I’m nice like that.

During those school days, a handful of boys, tried to torment me back. Boys were dumb. Their forms of torture were hardly as tortuous, and they usually got caught by a teacher while trying to pull my hair, take my notes or dump my book bag. Girls were just better at torment, I guess. Maybe we still are.

My son Lane 1 is slowly learning, how rotten girls can be when they are in mid-swoon. Last week, he was trying to get ready for school. Exasperated, he yelled, “Anyone know where my shoes are?”

“They should be in your room.”

“They aren’t.”

Going room to room for a second look, I could see he was getting really annoyed. Time ticked away and I started looking too. I went on the porch first. Checked all around the yard and at the doorway. Not finding them outside, I came back inside and asked if he may have left them at school.

“Dude, I’d remember if I walked home barefoot.”

“Don’t get snotty, son. You do have more than one pair.”

I broke the news to him that he would have to wear his old pair that aren’t nearly as cool or comfortable, because he was going to be late. It’s odd how things just disappear at random. Seems to happen most when you are in a hurry. Annoyed, he left, wearing his old shoes.

Looking out the front door at him walking down the street, Lane 2 started laughing her silly little head off, and confessed. “Yesterday when Allison was here, she took his shoes! Hahaha!”

Slightly annoyed that she let me look around for the missing shoes, when I was supposed to be getting ready to leave, I said, “Why the hell did she take his shoes? And why did you let her? And why didn’t you tell me?”

Still laughing, she said, “Sorry, Mom. It was so funny! Can you imagine the look on his face when he sees her in school wearing his shoes? Hahaha! I wish I was at their school so I could see his reaction!”

At school, he didn’t notice Allison, or his shoes on her feet. She tried to walk extra hard. She jumped up and down in his general direction. She even kicked him in the shin with his own shoe, and he still didn’t notice. At lunch she put her feet up on the bench next to him, clicking the toes together, still nothing.

At the end of the day, Allison asked him to walk with her to our house. She said she was going to hangout with Lane 2, so he walked her to our house while her feet flopped in his shoes. She said she kept watching and waiting for him to notice, but, he never did.

When they arrived at our house, he told her she had to stay outside until I came home. (House rules, no friends over unless me or Mr. Lane are home.) Lane 1 came inside to tell his sister that Allison was waiting on the porch.

Lane 2 went outside with her friend, and the two of them tap danced until he came out to see what all the noise was about. That was about the time I was pulling into the driveway. I saw the three of them on the porch, Lane 1 shaking his finger at them because, “Mom is home and she is going to flip a biscuit if you two keep up that noise.”

Walking onto the porch, not knowing he was still oblivious, I said, “Hey guys! How was everyone’s day? Oh Allison, I love your new shoes!”

He finally looked and inadvertently gasped, “Those shoes are mine!”

Dying with laughter the three of us girls were buckled over. My son looked confused as I mocked, “Those shoes are mine betch.”

Stupid boy.