The latest pictures.

Her first pair.

This is a big moment for Ems. And for daddy, of course. Let's be honest, I've tailored my entire career around my love of the Swoosh. I think back to a trip to Chicago in the summer of 2002 when we just had to stop by Niketown. "Excuse me fellas...I have to pick up some work clothes." Oh, the jealousy!

So, is it really necessary to drop $20 on a pair of shoes that she won't be able to fit into for more than a minute when she's not even standing or walking? Abso-freakin'-lutely.

Well that's something.

Discovered a new website today which boasts the ability to instantly analyze and label a blogger's "type." Hey, I have a blog! Let's throw this at the wall and see if it sticks. The verbatim analysis of me by typalyzer.com:

"The entertaining and friendly type. They are especially attuned to pleasure and beauty and like to fill their surroundings with soft fabrics, bright colors and sweet smells. They live in the present moment and don´t like to plan ahead - they are always in risk of exhausting themselves. The enjoy work that makes them able to help other people in a concrete and visible way. They tend to avoid conflicts and rarely initiate confrontation - qualities that can make it hard for them in management positions."

Anybody who had soft fabrics, bright colors and sweet smells in the office pool, come collect your winnings.

Just because.

This picture is too good not to post. One of St. Jan's high school cronies knitted this sweater for Ems (thanks Kathy! She's a regular reader) and it is a fine-looking garment. I know...it's light blue. The color of little boys. You know what? I don't care. We've dressed her in fluffy pink bunny suits and it doesn't stop people from saying how handsome he is. Come on, people...grab hold of the reins!

Conflicted.

Mornings can be tough. 

There are times when this is the nicest, most peaceful part of the day. I take the dogs out, eat some breakfast, and sip coffee while perusing current events (as evidenced by my earlier post.) Meanwhile, the ladies sleep, the sun shines in the office and Miles Davis quietly commands the room. Sounds nice, right? Are you with me? I think you are. However, it's not always right out of the Folgers commercial. 

Today would be one of those days. Ordinarily I might fret about going to the gym or getting a household project done. I mean, there's always something. Usually that something is quite manageable and can be whisked away in a matter of seconds as I hear my dad in the back of my head scoffing about what I deem important. 

But as we sit 20 days away from Emily's next orthopedist appointment, I cannot help but be consumed by the unknown. Last time we checked in with Dr. DeLuca, he was optimistic and encouraging with even a worst-case scenario that we could all live with. We didn't want to live with it, but we could. 

Right now, I bounce back and forth between playful confidence and gloomy doubt. I want to believe her leg will grow and through only brief surgical interventions, she will come out of this as a shining example of the miracles of faith and modern science. She will never know the pain or embarrassment that those with PFFD once did. It will be something we all look back on and wonder what we were so afraid of. 

That's one scenario. 

Unfortunately, I tend to spend most of my time on the other side. I don't want to. It just happens. I cannot escape the image of her trudging into the house and sadly asking why she can't keep up with the other kids. I worry about my beautiful daughter being shunned by some clique who can't think of a better reason than her limp or her prosthesis. I once had someone tell me, "Just don't think about it." Good one! I'll give that a shot. 

Then there are stories like that of Sarah Reinertsen (this is her website.) Sarah was born with PFFD and had her leg amputated above the knee at age seven. Nobody would have faulted her for shutting down and becoming a bitter woman, shaking her fist at life for cursing her with just one good leg. Instead, she trained her ass off and ran the Ironman Triathalon. And finished it. 

It's not an islolated story. ESPN the magazine published this piece on the future of prosthetics in sports. The last line of the story is "Shed a tear for the "disabled" today. Tomorrow they might pity you." Well then. 

Where does that leave me? Probably in the same spot I was when I sat down to write this. Conflicted. But hopeful that she'll be stronger than me. Hopeful that she'll see this as a challenge. And that she'll want to prove herself, pehaps by running the Ironman. As a supportive father, I would be there for my little girl. 

Have I mentioned it's in Hawaii?

Theonion.com hits the nail on the head.

"Dear Lord Baby Jesus..."

We got a call this week from the woman who is now the director of Trinity Church's annual Christmas pageant. Thinking I was a little too old to reprise one of the many roles I played as a child (seriously, I covered almost everything...Joseph, Herrod, shepherd, townsperson, narrator, all three wisemen...I had chops!) I instinctively knew that something different was up. Would young Emily be interested and/or available to play Baby Jesus in this year's pageant? Well, we spent a few days trying to get a hold of her agent, her manager and three of her "handlers" with no luck. So we just said, darn it all to heck, she can do it!
Sunday, December 21st Emily makes her stage debut as Jesus. As far as acting jobs go, I gotta believe it's all downhill after this.

As promised.

Let's try this again.

Anybody who just happened to be checking my blog last night between 10:30 and 11:15 might have seen an ever-evolving post with multiple pictures and a brief summary of recent events. Because the folks at blogspot make formatting posts a somewhat arduous task, because I'm still a rookie at this, and because I have some pride in my work, I couldn't get things to come out quite right. Therefore, I would post, edit, re-post, rinse, repeat. A lot. This, of course, leads to the painful realization that it's now 11:15, the alarm is still going off at 5:30, which is followed by some cursing and one big definitive delete before I stomp off to bed. I'm SO mature.

So here's what we're going to try. Whenever there's good stories to tell or anecdotes to share, I'll take the time to work on the literary side of things and maybe throw in a picture for good measure. If there's not a lot going on, I'll just flood the place with recent pictures of our girl. Deal? You actually don't have to agree to it if you don't want. It's going to happen anyway. Sucker!

Which brings us to the past week. Big things were happening for Ems, including her first halloween, her baptism and a historic presidential election. Halloween was quiet this year as Kate went off to work, leaving me, Ems, Moose and Piper to handle all candy distribution. With Ems napping and the dogs penned in the family room, that left me to witness the magic that is seven-year olds being driven by their parents from house to house to collect free candy. Next year I think we're just going to skip a step and inject all our trick-or-treaters directly with diabetes.

On a more positive note, Emily's baptism was a truly wonderful experience. Friends and family came from all over to share in her big day. She was mellow as can be during the service and even smiled and giggled when Rev. Fiddler poured the holy water over her head. Was she pleased being awash in the holy spirit? Was she laughing at our feeble attempts to curb her wicked potential? Only time will tell...

After church, everyone joined us back at Camp Sweatpants for food and merriment. It was wonderful to watch people politely elbow their way to the front of the line so they might hold our little girl. Kate and I felt truly blessed to be surrounded by so many caring and generous people. It's hard not to be optimistic about Emily's future knowing the love and support she will always have. She will be great and it will be because of all of you. 

In the meantime, we have our next appointment with the orthopedist four weeks from tomorrow. Not that we're counting. 

That's all. Pictures to follow.