Some things in this life are just hard. We try not to dwell on the hard around here. Our boys are relatively healthy and happy. There are many more good moments than there are bad ones. But sometimes the bad ones happen.
On our way to the beach over winter vacation, we passed a huge outlet mall. One of the stores caught my eye, because it was something the boys really needed. Crocs. We don't have a Croc store in our part of the world, and I've mostly ordered them online for the boys.
The boys are like their Mommy, they don't really likes wearing socks and shoes. If it's even remotely warm outside, or sometimes just if the sun is shining, we like to pretend it's summer. I wear flip flops. They wear Crocs. And their Crocs are going on three years old this year. The straps are falling apart, the soles are nearly non-existent, and they are just plain worn out. They have been worn A LOT. And they're also getting small.
When Josh and I were on our weekend getaway last fall in the mountains, we looked in a Croc store. But there were so many sizes and different styles, that we weren't sure which ones to buy. So we left that store empty-handed. But this time would be different. The boys would be with us. They could pick their own color and we could try them on to make sure they actually fit.
It seemed like a win-win situation. We would simply make a stop on our way back home. We could go to the Croc store, then get some gas and lunch on long drive back home. It would be a few hours into our drive and a perfect place to stop.
But it wasn't perfect.
All three boys balked at getting out of the truck to go into a store. Perhaps they were already preparing themselves for the fourteen hour drive and this stop was happening too early. Or perhaps they just didn't want to shop. Maybe they expected lunch. Who knows. They went into the store, but it was not willingly.
Once inside, Connor and Xander started roaming around and checking out all the different colors. Xander immediately latched onto a pair of red and navy blue Crocs. Connor, of course, wanted the exact same pair. And that would just be a nightmare trying to keep them separate since they wear nearly the same size and we keep all their shoes in the same bench.
That was our first battle. So we spent some time trying to find the right size for Xander, and also to suggest some other colors for Connor who was less than thrilled that he couldn't have his first choice. He wanted red.
Typical problems, right. Two boys wanting the same thing. One mad that he doesn't get his way. And we could have handled that problem. Connor eventually settled on the orange and white ones, which we easily found in his size (though he has sadly moved into the adult sizes).
The problem was Sawyer. He just was not having it. From the moment he got out of the truck, pulling at our hold on his hand as we walked toward the store, and screaming (and I do mean screaming) bloody murder the entire time we were in the store. He sat down on a round seating area (meant for trying on shoes) and just cried the whole time.
There was no logic, no rhyme or reason. He wasn't tired. He wasn't hurt. It wasn't terribly loud or remotely crowded. The lights weren't that bright. It was just a store. And we go into stores, albeit briefly, all the time. He doesn't like it, but he doesn't melt down. Not like this.
We picked out green ones for him (also in the adult sizes). We picked the size just bigger than the ones he was wearing. And all the while, he screamed. Long and loud and hard. He screamed. Even after we left and headed back to the truck. Even after we got back into the truck.
It was not the trip I had envisioned. Something so simple, like going into a store and picking out a pair of shoes, was not simple at all. It was hard. Really, really hard.
And those are the moments that just suck. Because it should have been simple. It should have been fun. But it was neither.
