Goldilocks' Sneakers

I grew up believing that once I was adult-sized, I'd stop changing.  I would have passed from kid-size adaptations on restaurant menus through teenaged restrictions to adult-sized freedoms.  I thought it would be glorious.  And stable. 

As an adult, I recognize the naïveté of the belief of stability.  We're all constantly changing, growing into or out of our shoes.

When the kids need new shoes, we get the cheap ones knowing they're going to outgrow them in six months, not the ones that have the springs or a pump or space-aged gel. By contrast, I get the squishy ones that cost more. The kids don't understand why I get the expensive ones and view it as some kind of parental executive privilege.  The truth is that I get the squishy ones because my back hurts when I wear the cheap ones. The sad part is that I probably only bought 2 pair that were a splurge because they had springs or pinwheels or something.  Then I read the fine print that the springs helped with lumbar support and the pinwheels somehow helped with balance. Function over fun. 

The truth is that we constantly change. The challenge is that there's not a 'must be this tall to ride' sign in adulthood.  As adults, our rites of passage are usually external -- our kids graduate, our kids get married, our parents die.  The transitions are less clear. 

So how do we know when we're now tall enough to take a mortgage?

When we signed up for our first mortgage, my bride and I diligently looked at all of the online calculators and ran the numbers to understand what we needed and what we could afford.  The lady from the bank rounded the number up to the nearest hundred thousand. 

We were baffled -- 'but that's more than we can afford' -- we plead. 

'Don't worry, the bank will give it to you. You'll be fine.' 

'But we don't want it.'

'Why not?'

'Because it's more than we can afford.'

'?''

Suddenly we were mortgaged ('mort' = 'death.' yep).  But we were right-sized.  In fact, I had her roll the number down from what we needed (probably out of spite, but that's another issue).  That number was a stretch for us, but we stuck to it.  Then the family grew and we traded the through-way for a cul-de-sac and bigger mortgage -- right-sized. 

Meanwhile, I watch the empty nesters in my life struggle to find the right size: small enough to air condition the two of us or large enough to host the 22 of us at Christmas? 

Clearly, homes are more expensive propositions than sneakers, but there's a right-size for the season, which holds true across seasons. 

The challenge is to admit which season we're in so that we can come to grips with the consequences: standard issue white New Balance with grass-stains and a master-on-the-main or Reebok Pumps and a loft.  As my friend John says, 'reality is our friend. Everything else is fantasy.'  Finding the right shoes begins with admitting where we are.