I can’t remember the last time I cut my own toenails.
Is that odd? I’m not sure. I used to self-groom my feet on a fairly regular basis. But then I got older, and had more money to spend and realized that I deserve to be pampered. So, every three to four weeks or so I head to the local nail salon where I enjoy an hour of massage chair, foot rubs and a new color polish. The thought of a pedicure brings a smile to my face. In between those visits? I do nothing and my feet look fabulous.
Unfortunately, there are ten more toenails and ten more fingernails that I am responsible for grooming. Twenty tiny little nails, attached to tiny feet, attached to legs that kick and twist at the first sign of the nail cutter.
I dread cutting Eliza’s nails. She hates it, and I hate it. But I also hate the way long nails look on a toddler. Not only is she likely to accidentally scratch herself – or another kid – but she is also spending most of her day playing on the floor, and her hands get quite dirty. It’s just not sanitary for her to have long nails. So, every three to four days or so I brace myself, bring her into the bathroom, and begin the grooming process. She shrieks, she squirms, she screams, and does everything she can to wriggle her way free. I take several deep breaths, hold on tight, and try to go as quickly as I can. On a good day she will relent and let me cut most of her nails before she starts the second round of her protest; on a bad day she will scream the entire time and end up with uneven nails that ultimately need to be trimmed again a few days later.
In short, giving Eliza a “mani-pedi” is usually one of the lowest points of my week.
If only I could bring her to the salon with me. I’d gladly pay a professional do the dirty work. While I soak my feet in a tub of warm water and catch up on gossip magazines.
Anyone want to invest in a new business opportunity?
(Originally posted, Wednesday February 23, 2011 at 6:34 p.m.)