Thursday, March 11, 2010

The (s)HO(e)LY Crusades

I should have known better than to leave town. Lydia says to me, "I'll take care of everything. You go have a good time. Don't even worry about checking in."

Because she is a dear, sweet, kind friend who understands a fellow mother's need for some rest and relaxion? Oh, girl please. She was planning a coup. A CLOG coup.
Let me interrupt myself here. If you're new to MommyLand, YEA! Welcome. We totally love you already...but you may want the History of Lydia and Kate's Shoe War. Take your time. We'll totally wait...
I realize I might have had it coming. Probably right about the time when I sent her this:

And then I got this back: "I feel like that picture was you trying to get me to call you a smelly pirate whore." [And let's be clear here. That is the *best* insult in the history of ever.]

And then she went all mutinous and cloggy and sent me pictures of her heinous footwear.
What's a Kate to do?

Oh, I'm just gonna put on a big white tunic with a red shoe painted on it. Why? Because I'm a crusader.

And steel mesh armor underneath, because, need I remind you, she's from Jersey. And she probably won't be so appreciative of my Crusade. My Shoely Crusade.

Let's rewind, shall we?


I'm over at Lydia's. Plotting. So, the usual. Thumbelina comes home from school and comes bouncing up the stairs, trailing butterflies, as always. She's in this adorable pink striped dress, tights, and pink suede boots. Ah. Dor. Ah. Bul. She flits over to me and before I can get a hug or anything, she gushes, "Oh, I just looooooove your boots."

I look over at Lydia with a smile reserved for Montgomery Burns wearing his gorilla chest vest.

And then point out to Thumbelina that the boots aren't black, as she suggested, but purple, to which she yanks up the hem of my jeans to get a closer look. She spent the next ten minutes flitting erratically around her mother and praising the amazingness of purple boots. Lydia spent those ten minutes TYPING AS LOUDLY AS POSSIBLE ON THE COMPUTER. THE "K" KEY IS NOW EMBEDDED IN HER DINING ROOM TABLE.

Lydia and the LTSs come over to conspire. Us, on topics; them - apparently - against us.

McGee and Thumbelina come downstairs, and Lydia - to my shock! - asks Thumbelina if she wants to see My Closet. [The answer to this question is always, always yes.] She walks in the room and promptly pretends to faint on the floor. The girls spend the next two hours dressing up.

Then we hear this:

Thumbelina: Ooh, I love these ones.

McGee: Those are Dior.

Thumbelina: What's Dior?

McGee: *gasps* He's a guy who makes these shoes. He's one of the Christians.

Thumbelina: Who are the Christians?

McGee: *gasps again* Dior, Louboutin and the cool guy from Project Runway. [yells to me] Right, mom?!

Me: Siriano, baby. And don't forget Lacroix.

McGee: Oh yeah. Lacroix. And then *TA-DAA!* there's Jimmy [opens box] These ones.

Thumbelina: OOOH. I love them. My mom's shoes don't have names.

McGee: Uh-huh. Crocs.

Thumbelina: [laughs]

Lydia: [glares at Kate]

Kate: [singing] See my vest, see my vest...made of real gorilla chest...

Then the modeling begins. Thumbelina glides out in one of McGee's dresses, an Hermes scarf and the jeweled Stuart Weitzman shoes I wore when I got married.

Lydia cringed.

I cheered. Loudly.

I call Lydia. Again. [Editor's note: I call so often that the Cap'n -- and now Thumbelina -- holler my last name through the house to let Lydia know I'm on the phone. - Kate]

Thumbelina answers.

Me: Hi sweetie.

Thumbelina: Hi. Thank you for letting me play in your closet. I just love it.

Me: Anytime sweetie. Just one promise, OK

Thumbelina: OK

Me: No Crocs.

Thumbelina: [laughs] OK!

Me: And no clogs.

Thumbelina: OK!

Me: Now go find mommy. Tell her I said you can play in My Closet anytime. Do you remember all our friends' names?

Thumbelina: Jimmy and the Christians!

Me: That's my girl! Now go get mommy.

When she finds Lydia, I overhear this on the phone: "Mommy. It's Kate. She said I can come play in her closet with Jimmy and the Christians.
Lydia: "Fancy! I'm gonna throw one of my big, shiny, black clogs at your head! What is this? The Crusades?"

[I laugh.]

Lydia: "I'm gonna convert McGee."

Me: "To crocs? Good luck, Clogs. She's in My Closet. Right Now. With the boys."

Lydia: "Please tell me they're playing War."

Me: "Nope. Project Runway."

Lydia: "I'm so gonna throw a shoe at your head."

Hey, don't blame me. Blame the Christians. Oh, and the smelly pirate whores.

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