The Wild Wild (Upper) West

Today is Thursday. Which means? Yesterday was Wednesday. My day alone with the girls.

At the end of the day, the three of us girls waited for Husband to come home. And I decided to check in with one of my best friends who just had her own little girl less than two weeks ago. So I called. My friend was busy feeding the baby, so I talked to her husband. We chit chatted and then he said, "Oh it's Wednesday. Your day to be a mom."

My immediate reaction was to be offended and to launch into a mini-monologue to the girls about how I am always a mom, even when I am at Starbucks. But then I laughed. Because, let's be honest. Wednesdays are my mom days. And on Wednesdays - as many of you know by now - my serene apartment turns into the Wild (Upper) West, a world where chaos reigns, where laws are scarce, and where survival becomes the first priority.

Yesterday was no exception. Starbucks Mom became Sheriff Mom and there was plenty of lassoing to be done. The day was busy, but not as wild as some other Wednesdays. Our highlight? A trip to the shoe store. 

After piling the girls into the marvelous monstrosity that is the Dash (our double stroller), we made our way to Tip Top Shoes where the shoes are indeed tip top. Once released from her Phil & Ted's perch, Toddler proceeded to yank all shoes from their little shelves, behavior which seemed to warm the hearts of the chipper store staff. And Baby begged and pleaded (okay, cried), so I took her from her little dungeon seat on the bottom of the stroller and placed her on the industrial carpet where she proceeded to practice her new hand-clapping skill.

And then "we" tried on shoes. Toddler tried on about six pairs. Many were cute and I knew it would be a tough decision until the very nice (and very patient) Shoe Man told me that five of the six were water shoes, i.e. meant for water, not for life. For some reason, I tried to break out my lawyerly skills of negotiation. Sure, they are water shoes. But I am sure that she can wear them to the playground, right? And see those shoes she walked into the store wearing? The Crocs? I doubt those were crafted for day-to-day life. They are plastic boats with hole-punches. And you would think that this man would be like all of the other salespeople I tend to encounter and just try to make a sale (or six). But no. He stuck to his story. They were water shoes. 

So Toddler got the one pair that were actually sandals. And before we left, I just had to try the mini pink Converse on Baby. She made things difficult, scrunching up her little pudgy toes. And when he was finally able to measure those little tootsies, he declared that she is a whopping size two! As he wrestled with her pumping legs, trying to gracefully cram those tiny feet into those tiny and impractical sneaks, I said, She's only a Size Two? Then she's too young for shoes.

Shoe Man looked at me like I was crazy. Or, a bit like many of the other moms he encounters.

The rest of the day was decidedly unwild. The cowgirls napped. And ate food. And drank liquids. There were no falls or allergy alarms. And then, as evening approached, we waited by the window for Husband to come home. And when he did, we all hugged him like we do on Wednesdays and all workdays. But the hug from me last night was on the intense side as far as hey-honey-how-was-your-day?-hugs. Why? Because, yes, I missed him. But also because I had survived another Wednesday in the Wild (Upper) West.

Fellow parents: is your home more zen sanctuary than baby frontier? If so, do you have some tips? Hope so!