How Big Are Your Shoes?

I've been thinking about the old saying "Don't judge a man until you've walked a mile in his shoes." Or, as Harper Lee put it in To Kill a Mockingbird, "You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view - until you climb into his skin and walk around in it." I really try not to judge people without thinking about what may be going on in their lives. This really comes into play when I'm driving. I just think about that when some crazy person cuts me off or doesn't use the turn lane properly. I mean, what if they just found out that their kid's been kicked out of school, their spouse is leaving them, or they have an incurable disease. How would you be driving if that happened to you?

Lately, my shoes have felt really big. This move to Panama City has been hard on me. Without friends and family here, it gets pretty lonely. And since Stephen works a lot more hours, I have a lot more responsibility at home. Yesterday, Stephen's alarm clock went off at 4AM. It woke me and Avery up as well. She, as always, wanted to eat, so by the time I got her fed and settled back into bed, I had to get Sydney up for school in 15 minutes. I got her up, fixed her breakfast, layed her clothes out, jumped in the bath, got dressed, fixed Sydney's hair, put some product in mine so I could dry it when I got back, made sure Sydney's teeth were brushed, and woke Avery back up to take Sydney to school. We made it to school before the tardy bell on the first day back after spring break. Yay for us! When I got back, I dried my hair, folded the clothes in the dryer, put the ones from the washer in the dryer, and started another load. No makeup today since Avery is screaming her head off because she wants to be picked up. Then, I go upstairs, start the dishwasher, eat about half a bowl of cereal, and log in to the office to start work at 9AM. I print about 30 work orders that need to be closed and billed. I have to type all this up while Avery is in my lap because if I put her down, she screams, and then I can't hear my customers when they call in. Not long after, Avery's hungry again, so I give her some solids and then nurse her- all while answering the work phone. I feed her again before we leave at 1:50PM to go pick Sydney up from school. Carpool is what I get to do on my lunch hour every day. Avery screams the whole way there because she's tired and refuses to take a nap. I pick Sydney up and listen to her complain about school and homework. Get home, fold more clothes and transfer another load to the dryer. Fix Sydney a snack and make sure she starts her homework. Get back on the computer and answer the 4 million emails that I received in the last 45 minutes. Feed Avery. Listen to Sydney complain more about homework and fight with the dog. Listen to the dog bark forEVER at the garbage men. Finally 5PM gets here. Log off the computer. Unload the dishwasher. Start supper. Give Avery a bath. Stephen comes home around 5:45 to find Avery screaming while I'm trying to cook and Sydney fussing because I'm too busy to take her to the ball field to watch her daddy play. He stays just long enough to use the bathroom and change into his jersey. I finish the first part of supper. Fix Sydney's supper (because she HATES spaghetti) and get her in the bathtub. Feed, rock, and put Avery to bed. Start the remainder of supper. Oh, wait. Avery is awake and screaming AGAIN. Turn stove off. Tuck Sydney into bed. Go back downstairs. More rocking. Finally get her in bed again around 9:05. Go back upstairs to put bread in the oven. Stephen comes in at 9:15 and gets right on the phone. So, I fix my plate and eat by myself. Get pj's on and get to bed so I can get a few hours of sleep before Avery wakes up at 1:15AM to start this whole crazy cycle over. Please people- don't judge me!!! : ) My feet are tired, and my shoes are worn out!

So, let me just give you a breakdown of the rest of the family and why I have to remember that they have shoes too...

STEPHEN

I can't act all innocent here. I knew what I was getting into when I got married. My husband likes to be taken care of. Sometimes I wonder though what it must be like to have someone take care of the kids, clean the house and laundry, cook dinner for me and make sure there's a clean plate to eat off of when I come home from playing softball with my friends. What it's like to have a friend where I live and get to eat lunch with them and play golf with them. Okay, I don't want to play golf or softball with friends, so we'll substitute manicures and movies for that. BUT, I also don't work with doctors who yell and scream, get up at 4AM to drive hours for a surgery where they may not even use my product. I don't deal with the bills or take the trash out or mow the grass. So, Stephen has shoes too. (And I usually have to pick them up out of the floor and put them in the closet!)

SYDNEY

Two words... spoiled rotten. Her food is fixed, her hair is done for her, her backpack is packed for her, her clothes get laid out for her. She gets "prizes" all the time. I want someone to do that for me. (I know, I know. My mama used to do that for me, too.) When she complains about what an awful mama I am because I want her to clean her room and she just got through with her homework, I have to remember that she's only 7. School is not fun for her, and neither is homework. So, maybe she needs an hour of play time before cleaning up. Seven year olds have shoes too- even though we can't usually find them because they are covered up with all that junk in her room that I want her to clean up!

AVERY

Avery doesn't have shoes. Her feet are too little, and she won't even keep socks on. She likes bare feet. And she pretty much gets everything she likes. She gets fed on demand, rocked, held, played with, sleeps whenever she wants. I can assure you, I'd LOVE that, and I certainly wouldn't fight the sleep like she does. I guess if I had only been in the world for five months and there were people constantly in my face and loud siblings and dogs, I might be a little cranky too!

DAISY

Don't even get me started with this dog. She's fed, bathed, gets treats all the time. She tears up stuff all over the house. I listen to her incessant barking at random people walking down the street, and I STILL haven't taken her to the pound. She gets to lay in the sun all day without a care in the world! Man, I wish I was the family dog! Well, that is, except for when Sydney is about to drown her in the bathtub or jerking her toys away or chasing her in the yard. I guess Daisy has it a little rough, too!