Between a Croc and a Hard Place
How far is too far?
It’s a typical day at home. You’re wearing tennis shoes with socks, engaging in what society expects of a mother who is enduring hanging out with her children. The pedal comfort level is decent, but your feet can’t help but yearn for something better.
Word has spread about these alternative shoes. They look like large, plastic, colorful beans.* They have holes on the top that people shove plastic trinkets through in an odd display of personal expression. Those who’ve joined the bean-wearing cult swear by them. They’re commonly described with words like “comfortable,” “versatile,” “practical,” and “airy.”
Your feet hear these words and desperately want to try a pair. But your brain knows this is a slippery slope. You aren’t a plastic bean-wearing type. You have style and grace. Sophistication, if you will. (We aren’t talking about you as a mother. We are talking about you as a person. Maybe we are talking about you pre-motherhood?)
You continue on with your tennis shoes, doing laundry and folding clothes and playing outside with the kids. But strange thoughts creep in. Man, my socks get awfully sticky in this heat. Gosh, the strings are suffocating at times. Hmm, what would it feel like to have some air holes?
No. NO. You tell your feet. We’ve been through so much in these shoes. We’ve played sport and chased kids and done yard work together. We have an unbreakable bond. We have (bits of) style through color and brand and non-bean shapes.
But what about those plastic trinkets? Wouldn’t it be stylish? We could get 100 Taylor Swift(ish) ones from Amazon for $10. Or we could go with soccer, American patriotism, Disney movies …. the possibilities are endless!
No. NO. What are we doing? Plastic trinkets? This is madness. This has to stop.
You show up to the sporting goods store ostensibly to buy a pair of cleats for your oldest. You find yourself drifting toward the adult shoe section. You’re perusing the aisles. You round a corner and see a massive display of plastic beans dangling from plastic hangers. They are so colorful.
No. NO. You tell yourself. I am NOT the plastic bean-wearing type.
You are officially between a Croc and a hard place.
After agonizing, a force greater than yourself wins the battle. You slip into the plastic and air filters through the holes. You picture yourself chasing the toddler with these babies. In a flick of a finger, you can ditch “comfort mode” (with the strap up) and activate “sport mode” (with the strap down around your heel) for optimal chasing. How practical.
You chose your color and “jibbitz” (the official name for those plastic trinkets), check out, and breathe a sigh of relief. This is enough style for you, the mother.
You decide not to spend one more minute in your old, crappy shoes. You kick off the tennis shoes in the store parking lot inside of your 100 degree car, eager to let the toes breathe like a fine wine must. You place the plastic beans on your feet. When the air conditioning starts up, you’re delighted to feel the cold through the holes. This was the right choice.
Once you get home, you step over the threshold of the doorway. You’ve now been infiltrated.
Within weeks, your kids have Crocs. Your husband has Crocs. You have multiple styles of Crocs, including sandals. You have a massive, plastic, Croc-looking bag with its own breathable holes (actually called a Bogg bag because, you suspect, the Croc people wouldn’t allow a marriage). The Crocs are multiplying at an alarming rate.
Then, the unthinkable. While chasing your toddler in sport mode, you trip over small plastic “jibbitz” that line the halls. You fall to your knees in agony and desperation. Here, in this moment, you realize what you’ve done. And you know there’s no turning back.
*Although appearing to be plastic, Google informs that Crocs are actually made of a closed-cell resin material known as crosslite that is neither plastic nor rubber.
**This piece is entirely fictional, as the author refuses to wear Crocs. She imagines the decision to purchase a Croc is formed in this manner. She has established a “no-Croc zone” in her home but is currently fighting infiltration by her family members, both immediate, and extended. It’s exhausting.
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Hah, totally. Reminds me of our mother telling us to always wear a bra, even if just going out for a minute, just in case you get in an accident. 😂
You were not kidding! Riveting!!
I really dislike crocs, my best friend once told me, imagine if you wear crocs running errands and you die crossing the street, you would die in croc's!!! She had a point, and to be honest, she's not wrong.