I’ve always had nice nails. The kind that the dental hygienist will comment on while she’s in the middle of digging in your mouth (and then you sort of mumble-gasp a “thank you” cuz that’s the best you can do while your teeth are being buffed.)
Since having a kid, I have been very determined to not become the stereotypical “frumpy” mom. It takes the same amount of time to slip on heels as it does flip flops, I tell myself. (Although yes, it is easier to carry a 22-pound kid wearing said flip flops. But I’m all about adventure.)
But after one year of parenting bliss, I’ve got to cut myself a tiny little sliver of slack: I cannot maintain my nail regiment anymore.
I didn’t do anything Earth-shattering to them before. But once a week, I’d file them, shape them up all nice, remove the slightly chipped polish, and repolish with two coats of a shimmery shade of clear. The result? Nothing overly impressive, but they did look nice. Professional, even.
It’s not that I can’t spare the 15 minutes necessary once a week to do this. I can. And if I couldn’t, Mike would step in and help out so I could claim 15 minutes to myself. The problem is that the darn things take like two hours to completely dry. And what parent has two hours to sit around and wait for nails to dry?
By the time I get home from work, I’m giving Ryan a bath, feeding him, and then arguing with him that the reason why he’s so cranky is because he’s overtired and Needs. To. Go. To. Bed. Then I’m throwing laundry in while Mike is finishing up dinner. Then I’m eating, handling more laundry, and by the time I think, “Shoot, I really gotta do something about these ratty nails,” I’m tired. And I want to sleep. And I’ve tried to paint the nails right before I go to sleep, and it doesn’t end well.
So I’m giving myself a break. I will still file (hopefully) once a week. But no more polish. At least until things calm down (so when Ryan is like 12).
Anyway, heels totally distract from nails, don’t you think?