When people talk about having a big family, they warn you about the grocery bill, the laundry, the noise, and the amount of food you’ll go through.
BUT NOBODY MENTIONS THE SHOES.
The absolutely unreasonable, borderline criminal amount of SHOES.
We have seven children. NINE people living in this house. Well eight currently but some of #9’s shoes still lives here!
Do you have any idea how many shoes that is?!
Because I don’t. I’ve lost count. I’ve lost control. I’ve lost the will to even try.
And here’s the thing. It’s not just nine people with a reasonable number of shoes.
Oh, no.
We have shoes that fit.
Shoes that used to fit.
Shoes that will eventually fit.
Shoes that apparently fit according to the child currently wearing them, despite their heel hanging two inches off the back.
And shoes that haven’t fit anyone in approximately three years, but I can’t get rid of them because SOMEBODY WILL GROW INTO THEM EVENTUALLY.
So now I’m running what is essentially a children’s shoe warehouse with a very complicated inventory system that exists entirely in my head.
“Don’t throw those away! Those were your brother’s! Your other brother will need those in about two years!”
And don’t even get me started on the SMELL.
Because apparently socks are optional in this household.
Why wear socks when you can just shove your bare, sweaty, questionable little feet directly into a pair of tennis shoes and marinate them for eight hours?
Then take them off in my vehicle.
WITH THE WINDOWS UP.
I have smelled things that should require a hazmat team.
And the funniest part?
THESE CHILDREN DON’T EVEN WANT TO WEAR SHOES.
We have approximately 400 pairs of shoes in this house, and somehow every single morning someone is barefoot, someone can’t find a matching pair, and someone is crying because the only shoes they want to wear are two sizes too small.
We are literally surrounded by footwear, yet somehow nobody has anything to put on their feet.
And me?
I have approximately two pairs of shoes in active rotation.
One pair of flip-flops that have seen entirely too much of my life.
And one pair of tennis shoes that haven’t been clean since the last presidential administration.
That’s it.
I’m out here making sure seven children have shoes for school, church, sports, winter, summer, special occasions, and whatever else life requires, while I rotate between looking like I’m headed to the beach or like I just finished mowing the yard.
And despite all these shoes, somehow there is ALWAYS one sitting in the middle of the living room.
Just one.
Where’s the other one?
Nobody knows.
Who does it belong to?
Nobody claims it.
Why has it been there for four days?
Apparently, that’s where it lives now.
At this point, I’m convinced the shoes are reproducing when we’re asleep.
Because I KNOW I picked them all up yesterday, and today there are 37 more scattered across the house.
And the two dogs aren’t helping. Apparently, shoes are also chew toys.
I’ve considered organizing them. I’ve considered buying more shoe racks. I’ve considered assigning everyone a designated spot. I mean I have in the past done all of these things, currently nothing is working.
What I really need is a full-time shoe manager with warehouse experience, excellent organizational skills, and absolutely no sense of smell.
One day, all these little shoes will be gone, and I’m sure I’ll miss them.
But today?
Today I just want to walk through my own house without stepping on a Croc, tripping over a cleat, or discovering another pair of shoes that smells like something crawled inside and died.
And if you come over and see a mountain of shoes by my door, just know we’re not having a yard sale.
We live here.
And apparently, so does every shoe ever manufactured.
And somehow, the shoes have migrated to the VAN.
Not pairs of shoes, of course. That would make entirely too much sense.
No. There are five random shoes in the van, all different styles, all different sizes, and not a single matching pair.
One Croc. One cleat. One flip-flop. One tennis shoe. And one shoe that I’m not even sure belongs to anyone in this family.
WHY ARE THEY IN THERE?!
WHO TOOK OFF ONE SHOE?!
AND WHERE IS THE OTHER ONE?!
You would think with this many shoes between the house and the van, we’d have our bases covered.
WRONG.
Last week, Rhett went to SCHOOL WITHOUT SHOES.
Let me say that again.
MY CHILD WENT TO SCHOOL WITHOUT SHOES.
HOW?!
WHY?!
We have enough shoes in this family to outfit a small village, and somehow I managed to deliver a whole human being to an educational institution WITHOUT FOOTWEAR.
Did he not notice?!
Did I not notice?!
Did his dad not notice?!
Apparently, none of us thought shoes were an important part of getting dressed that morning.
We’re checking backpacks, packing lunches, making sure everyone has their water bottles, and trying to get out the door on time.
And somewhere in all that chaos, we just forgot the boy needed SHOES.
At this point, I’m not even asking that everyone wear matching shoes.
I WOULD JUST LIKE EVERYONE TO ARRIVE AT SCHOOL WITH TWO.
Preferably on their feet.
And preferably their own. 😂
Please tell me other families are living like this. Or am I the only one running an unofficial Shoe Outlet out of my house?Â
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