Chronicles of Chaos

July 22, 2007 | Print

Mani/Pedi

I remember playing this drinking game in college–two teams on either side of a bar (like where they serve beer), one team has a quarter hidden in one of their hands. They slam their hands flat on the bar and the other team guesses by elimination which hand has the quarter.

I loved this game.

One night the girl across from me slammed down her hands and I noticed her fingernails. They were torn and dirty. I decided, though never too finicky about hygiene issues, that I’d never let my nails look like hers.

For many years I went above and beyond. I had a mani/pedi (the cheap ones) every other week. My nails were always the fabulous color of the season.

I wore sandals and felt sexy.

Six years, three children later, I feel like a fingernail hypocrite. And it’s not just my nails that are in disrepair–I’m responsible for three other sets of hands and feet as well.

Tonight Amelia tells me, “I really need my toenails cut, Mommy.” Sure enough they’re starting to curl over the back side of her big toe, not in a medically dangerous way, just going in that direction.

At least the nails that aren’t broken off are doing that.

While Amelia’s nails take after mine, get too long, tear and scratch, the boys seem to have a natural trimming mechanism.

I do try to trim their nails after Amelia’s emergency sessions, but all their fingers and toes look fine.

Maybe there’s a manicure fairy.

A friend once told me that when she was a kid every Sunday her mom gave them a long bath and cut their nails. I thought this ritual was an excellent idea that I would implement that very next Sunday.

I’ve never done it. Weekly nail care has fallen into the pile of Sunday great ideas (homemade waffle breakfasts, family barbeques, dinner planning (and shopping!) for the week) that I keep somewhere in my head right next to the guilt section–it sort of overlaps.

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