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Thursday, October 1, 2009

"What Have You Done?!!" And Other Encouraging Words for Parents

I think the absolute worst thing I have to deal with when grooming my children is not the numerous stinky diapers but the fact that I have to cut their nails every once in a while. In all honesty, they should be cut about every week - but its such an unpleasant thing to do all around that everybody - my kids, myself and even the neighbors - dreads nail trimming night at the Ferrandinos.

I avoid it as long as I can. I wait until the nails no longer resemble nails, but are more like talons that are threatening to gouge our family members' eyes. When the kids are really little, I can put them in those little mittens which make them look like they boast lobster claws - but they are really not a solution - and the talons keep getting bigger no matter what. But you see them playing a big part in all our baby pictures for Shaila since I could not get the guts to just cut her nails already.

My husband, John, will usually make sure that I know when it's time to cut the nails. Reaching down, he will hold our children's hands and say things like "Wow - we really need to cut your nails, sweetie." Now, I know he is not talking to Shaila and Nico when he says this. Keep in mind, John has NEVER ONCE cut Shaila's nails and I am highly doubting that he will be cutting Nico's nails. So when he says "We" - must really be referring to the professional team of nail technicians that we have hired who handle this sort of thing.

Ok - he is not. He is referring to ME. (note there is no "We" in this).

And I get the job done - though I dread it and breathe a huge sigh of relief every time its done. I have to resort to all sorts of bribery with my two year old, Shaila and I use every arsenal of bribery available to me - be that the promise of purple nail polish, a gummy bear or some other treat. Nico is too little yet to begin this game - but I expect it will start with him too, before I even know it.

My scars and trepidation around cutting the nails can be traced back to a very definitive event. When Shaila was three days old, I trimmed her nails and I was a nervous wreck. I could not make out the distinction between her soft baby skin and the small, clear slivers of nail that I was trying to get off. So, with my husband and visiting parents breathing down my neck, sweat pouring down my neck and my hands trembling, the inevitable happened. I cut her.

The cut was small. Barely noticeable - however - there were a few drops of blood and Shaila did whimper. (Okay she bawled. REALLY REALLY LOUD). I was new to motherhood and was pretty mortified but never as mortified as when John looked down, looked at the blood on Shaila's hand and said:


(We are not very melodramatic in this house, so don't worry about that).

Despite the scars and John's voice which still rings in my ears "What have you done? What have you done?!!" I push that aside every 1 week, ok . . . ok . . every 2 weeks and get the job done. And hope that my kids can avoid scratching their eyes out through the grace of god until I can work up the nerve to cut those darn talons down to manageable lengths.

To all the mommies who just bite their kids nails, that's great except that would leave me with a whole different anxiety of how not to bite my kids finger off. Cuz that would really suck.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Keep posting stuff like this i really like it


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