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I am a below knee amputee. More importantly, I am also Mommy to two boys, a very active 10 year old (Robby) and an mischievous toddler (Timmy). I have learned that being a parent with a disability can create some unusual and sometimes humorous situations. This blogger is available for hire! Let's talk and learn how a blog can expand your business.

Wednesday, May 06, 2009

If the shoe fits...

I admit it. I absolutely hate shoe shopping. I know that this is a joy for most women. For me, it is a chore. Now, to be completely honest, I wasn't a huge shoe connoisseur when I had two feet. The complication of a prosthetic foot has merely added the "foreboding" factor I experience every time I realize I need a new pair of shoes.

I hate shoe shopping for several reasons. The most glaring being that my feet are now two sizes. Until technology evolves a little more, I am apparently stuck with this frustrating reality. I either have to buy two pairs of shoes to accommodate the different sizes, or I wear a thick sock. The first I only do for special occasion shoes, the latter is my normal course of action.

My family recognizes my frustrations when shoe shopping. I guess me griping about it for a few days before I go is usually the clue! They have taken the "divide and conquer" approach.

My Mom has drawn the short straw, and usually goes to the shoe store with me. In her normal style, she tries to turn it into a comical adventure. Often, she ends up carrying my prosthetic around, asking the shoe clerks if they have anything that will fit. The stunned responses of the employees and bystanders usually releases my tension and makes me laugh, which is another reason I love her.

After the shoes are selected, my husband leaps into action. His job is putting the shoe on the prosthetic. I feel that I am a well adjusted amputee. But, for some reason, this task makes me sad.

When Scott sees me coming home with the dreaded shoe box, he immediately goes to the kitchen and gets two butter knives. He then stops by the hall closet to get his needle nose pliers out of the tool box. These are his tools for getting the shoe to slide onto the prosthetic. It may sound strange, but it works. He often ends up contorting himself, and often choice words are muttered. But, the shoe somehow always ends up on my prosthetic. He does this without complaint and question, which is another reason I love him.

I was shopping the other day, and I came across the perfect gift for my husband. A shoe horn! We'll give it a try the next time I change my shoes... who knows, maybe the butter knives can stay in the kitchen.

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