Girl Time

It is a lazy Sunday afternoon. The weather is warm and my feet are bare. I stretch out in a lawn chair and gaze at my children entertaining themselves in the yard. Normally, I would be chasing them or involved in some form of play, but it is nice to just be an observer today. I watch the sunlight dance against their olive skin, intermittently painting my toenails, and gingerly sipping a perfectly chilled beer. I feel the sun’s glow on my back, listen to the songs of the birds above me, and realize how very appreciative I am for this exact moment in time. 

My newly painted toenails capture my daughter’s attention, and she crawls onto my lap for a closer look. I peer at her inquisitive expression and ask if she wants her toenails painted too.  She says “toenails” and quickly places her tiny foot in my hand which is her way of saying “yes please.” I give her a little smirk and happily oblige. She is only two years old, and somehow I hadn’t pictured her first pedicure like this. I always envisioned taking her to a children’s salon when she was older – 4 or 5 maybe – as a special treat or rite of passage.  I can see her tiny frame relaxing in the pedicure chair looking all too grown up or at least I can imagine feeling that way. We have a little conversation while she selects the perfect polish and I’m enjoying every minute of this mother daughter time. This is how I visualize it in my head, but as with most things, the reality is different.

Back in the present, I carefully navigate around my daughter’s toes and coat her teeny toenails with light purple polish.  After each toenail is polished, my daughter’s giant eyes gleam as she extends the purest of smiles as if she wishes to thank me along the way. She is clearly thrilled with her colored toenails, and she repeats the word “pretty” over and over again. I sit up in my lawn chair and carefully clean the excess paint off of her delicate skin. Before I can finish, my daughter hastily pulls off her other shoe fearing that I may forget to paint her remaining unpolished toes. I grin and say, “Are you ready for your other toes now?” This time she makes her intentions completely clear with a resound “Yes!” I can tell that she is enjoying every second of the girly attention so I take extra precaution slowly going through the ritual once again.

When the last toenail has been decorated, she eagerly slips off of my lap and runs to show Daddy her pedicure. I watch as she proudly displays her colorful toes, and I can’t help but think that this is better than I envisioned – more distinctive and precious even with it being more ordinary. And this is the thing about being a mother that continually brings me joy; no matter the grandiose daydream, the reality is always better. The simple becomes spectacular, the commonplace becomes unique, and the predictable becomes unpredictable because my children enrich my experiences and that is better than any fantasy.

Embrace Your MOMentum

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