It's funny those moments. You know those moments that just smack you in the face. The ones that make you question if you are really doing this all right or not?
For me, it seems to happen when I am cutting toenails. Not just any nails, toenails.
For some reason, I seem to realize that my kids toenails have grown to 14 inches long at the most random times. Well, not really the most random times, I should rephrase that. I seem to have a talent for recognizing it at the most exhausted times.
Like last night.
When one such child returned from three nights at Cub Scout camp. And was filthy and exhausted and ramped up all at the same time. And had really long toenails.
I can't control a lot. I work. A lot. And have boys. And a husband who works. A lot. And we do our best. Our clothes are clean. Our house is presentable (just call first). But sometimes in this working parent world things get away from us. Like toenails.
And then the realization that your child could go head to head, or at least paw to foot with a wild animal is too much to bear and it's time to cut the nails.
But they are tired. And you have had three hours of sleep for three nights straight. And need to respond to emails. Oh yeah, and wash underwear so no one goes commando tomorrow.
But there are those hideous nails.
And so you have an all out wrestling match to cut the nails. And you win. Because, for now, you are still bigger. But your kid ends up mad at you and thinking you are the worst parent ever because you helped them maintain podiatric health.
Both of you end up in tears. Over toenails.
Living the dream. Living the dream.
That said, I am sure this is a post that you're happy had no pictures.
