ANYTHING FOR YOU

The first thought the came to mind when my son was born was, “Anything for you.” When I saw his little face, full head of hair, ten fingers and toes, all I could think was, “Anything for you.” And now, I’m standing in the Nordstrom Kid’s Shoe department hoping I didn’t say that loud enough for anyone to hear.

It happens overnight. One day, you’ve got a noodle who just eats and sleeps all day, the next you’ve got a terror who needs shoes. My kid has been toying with walking, or falling, for a while. But now he’s moved up to the big leagues, the Frankenstein walk, and he couldn’t be happier. My kid is a Walkaholic. It’s all he wants to do, unless he has the opportunity to climb, which he considers just walking turned upward.

Walking well is undoubtedly just around the corner. Walking far, coming up on its tail. And running is in my near future. I say mine because it is I who will running after he, my terror, when he discovers that running is like walking on crack. So my kid needs shoes.

Buying a kid his first shoes is a Sunrise/Sunset moment. It’s emotional. As my kid gets closer and closer to crossing each milestone, I get closer and closer to losing a good friend I fondly call, “disposable income.” This makes me emotional. Having a child is like living in Manhattan. From the second you leave the house, you’re twenty bucks poorer.

The problem isn’t just the price, it’s that I love them. One pair after another are really, really cute. It’s not just the tiny Chuck Taylor’s or the mini Ugg Boots, it’s the Prada loafers that have their own special rack with a smart sign and label. The shoes beckon me and remind me that I said, “Anything for you.”

In my mind, I know it’s silly to buy a child anything expensive. Kids like to do things like grow, lose, hurl, maim, and destroy. They don’t know the difference between Gucci and Gap and will undoubtedly not fit into either within 4.4 seconds of their purchase. But still, they’re really cute. I’m tempted. I’m just keeping my promise, “Anything for you.” Isn’t that what parents are supposed to do?

I turn the loafers over and am already thinking of the explanation I’ll give my husband for spending 80 or 100 dollars on kid shoes. But they’re not 80 or 100 dollars, they’re $250. I turn them back over, look up and see a sign: Sale. Four letters have never sounded so good. You see, I had a child, not a lobotomy. The only person whose getting overpriced shoes in my house is me. I’m far less likely to grow, lose, or maim.

I feel good leaving the store with a $30 pair of shoes, a chocolate brown loafer with a smart Velcro strap and a green balloon. My kid seems far more interested in the balloon than the shoes and I am happy I didn’t give in and overspend. On the way out, I pass a woman, her cell phone, and her daughter, all three covered in Burberry. The kid is throwing a temper tantrum because she wants her Mom to get off the phone. She takes off her Burberry rain boots and throws them into the aisle. The Mom doesn’t notice as she keeps on pushing the stroller and talking on the phone. At $300 a pop for for the boots, the Mom will find that to be a very expensive phone call.

I live in LA where no one seems to have a job and everyone seems to have money. The kids are as well dressed as their parents, designer duds not out of the question. Me trying to keep up isn’t doing anything for my kid. Doing anything for him means getting over my own desire to have my kid be the best dressed and do what’s right which is to get him what he needs, not what I want him to have. Undoubtedly, I have a lifetime ahead of me of my kid telling me, “But Johnny got a Game Boy, Xbox, PSP, new Car, trip to Europe…” which will be followed by the mandatory parental answer, “Well then you should go live with Johnny.”

At some point in the conversation my kid claim I am the meanest Mom in the world and at some point I’ll believe him. But when my kid can go to college because I didn’t spend my savings trying to keep up with Johnny, he’ll someday realize his parents did do anything for him. Making sure your kids will have a secure future is doing anything. Making sure your kids look great in the process, just an added benefit.

We watch the fountain and check out Santa, but then it’s time to go home. I put my kid in the car and look down. We’re down one man, one shoe gone. We owned the shoes for 30 minutes. That’s a buck a minute. My son’s feet charge more than some call girls. And while buying the shoes again is pricey, the time together is priceless, even if I did just buy a $30 balloon.