Why would a little old lady live in a shoe? You have a dozen kids and yet you manage to be a widow who lives in a smelly old shoe. Let’s say that your husband left you after the first two kids, and then you met one man after another and had a bunch of other kids. But the sad thing is only a couple of them have the same father. Because why? Because after you had kids with one guy he would leave you and whatever kids you had together or before you met him.
By kid number ten you’re probably feeling a little bit….unwanted. You only have a very small paying job as a waitress in the local pub and can only afford the shoe house that some high architect built thinking it was ingenious…until it wasn’t. But by the time he realized it wasn’t it was too late. But hey, it was lucky for you because you found a house that can fit you and your dozens of children and fit into your budget. Yeah! Now you have a ton of kids, a low paying job, and a stinky shoe of a house…literally.
So now you are well aged and guys no longer find you appealing. You lost your youth and beauty to years of child birth and the raising of children. You are to the point where you are wondering why on earth you thought having kids with all those guys, who didn’t even stay around, was a good idea. Not to mention the fact that it doesn’t matter how many people know your story, not one of them know your name. Instead they whisper behind your back about how unfortunate your situation is and how they find you to be a very unholy woman to have so many children and only have a couple that have the same father. You aren’t just a piece of the town gossip, you are the town gossip.
You are mean and nasty due to the years of misfortune in your life. You can barely feed your kids and only give them some broth. That’s it. Not even a measly piece of bread, you save all the bread for you plus all the scraps you get from the pub. But you don’t want to give your children what you think you disserve after so many hard years of raising your ungrateful children.
Not once have they thanked or shown appreciation to you for giving them some broth and keeping them around when you could just as easily put them into an orphanage.
To make up for their error, you whip them soundly before sending them to bed. Well, bed might be an over exaggeration. Some of them have beds, all of them share a bed, and some even have to sleep in cupboards or on the cold, hard floor.
You spend the rest of your life complaining about what you don’t have or how hard your life is instead of actually enjoying what you do have or the children that you have. So, when you die, your kids bury you in the backyard, next to the heel of the old shoe, have a simple funeral and move on. Occasionally they’ll have nightmares of the mother they had, but they still manage to find more fortune and happiness in their lives than you ever managed to.