Leave the Toes to the Pros

Today marks the weekly "Painting of the Nails". A far cry from the Running of the Bulls, but tradition is tradition, right? Actually, I'm not a huge fan of this activity but I doubt even you could deny Lil' Miss when she asks for "pink farkly poe-nawlish".

First of all, I really don't like being so up close and personal with my toes like that. (Does anyone?) I know they help out with balance and what not, but I just don't care to spend a lot of time with them. Not to mention, I broke a toe a couple years ago and since then things have never quite been the same. The toe decided to use it as an opportunity to redefine itself, take the road less travelled, if you will. Rather than curving downward in a gentle slope like all the other good little piggies, this one turned east, pushing up against its neighbor toe to the right. Doesn't sound too awful except that it created an unnaturally large gap between itself and neighbor to the left. In short, because of "I've Just Gotta be Me" toe number three, I have a perpetual peace sign staring back at me all day like a third eye. Creepy doesn't even cut it.

But if I were to be totally honest, the real reason I hate painting nails is that I suck at it. No seriously, I'm terrible at it and it baffles me. How is it possible that with years of practice coloring in the lines, perfecting margin doodles, and even getting the attention of a high school art teacher, I can't for the life of me keep the paint off my skin?

Meanwhile, Lil' Miss had finished painting her own hands, I mean nails, in about 2.5 nanoseconds and then began to move in on mine. "No, no," I said. "Back off, sister. Mommy's going to do her own nails this time." I wish I could tell you that today was my day, the day I exceeded even my own expectations of nail polish perfection. But it was not to be. I should've just let Lil' Miss have her way with them. At least I'd have a decent excuse to explain why my toes looked like Freddie Krueger's. The truth is she'd probably do a better job anyways.

The Trouble with Lulls

Every mother fears it. That unnatural silence which unexpectedly settles on a house in the late morning after all the favorite toys and books have been handled and tossed aside. It is eerie and it always, I mean ALWAYS, forbodes wickedness. So, at the first sounds of silence this morning, I sprang into action. Starting in the main rooms, I searched the living room, kitchen, den, and then worked my way through the bedrooms, darting in and out of each room like a panther. And then, finally, I found them. Actually, I smelled them before I found them. They were hiding in the bathroom like a couple of teenagers smoking out behind campus, this time trading butts for a bottle. Lil' Miss was sitting on the shower ledge massaging a glob of plumeria-scented lotion into her thighs. She was moving her hands around in circular motions, no doubt the influence of her many trips with Dad to the chiropractor. And then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted him. Baby Dude was crouched down in the corner, shoveling lotion straight into his mouth. His face was all contorted but he was undetoured. Maybe he thought it was an acquired taste. As I initiated damage control, I couldn't help but smile at how the silence always gives them away. "In the bathroom, with the lotion, Miss Scarlett!!"

The Charge is in Charge

Baby Dude locked me out again today. He so knows what he’s doing. I could feel him snickering at me from the other side of the garage door. Yep, there I was again, in my pajamas, opening up the garage, then running around to the front of the house and pounding on the front door for Lil’ Miss to let me in. It’s become such standard protocol around here that she doesn’t even ask about it anymore, just opens the door for me and goes back to whatever toy she’s playing with. The only difference this time was that I happened to be on the phone with Katy while this whole charade was being played out. When it was all over, she had the nerve to suggest I hide an extra house key in the garage. Geez! Look who’s so preachy! Never you mind the fire department incident two years ago with Lil' Miss wailing from her carseat inside the locked car and the location of the extra set of keys just beyond my mind's reach. Bottom line: I'd rather keep believing that I'm proving who's really boss around here than give in to his little antics. I showed him!!!