Once in a while I get one of those forwarded emails that talks about motherhood.
Like the ones that start,
You know you’re a mother when…
Sometimes they can be a bit schmaltzy with things like… for the first time your heart walks outside your body. Which is really a troubling thing to think about because I’m not that crazy about my organs hanging around outside my body.
And it sort of reminds me of trying to find an anniversary card at Stop & Shop and they all say stuff like… “And I still remember the day we joined as one and chose to always breathe the same air and intertwine our finger tips for eternity and wrap our souls around each other and never spend a moment apart unless of course one of us goes to jail.”
And all I want is one dumb card that says simply, “Happy Anniversary!” and I’ll fill in the rest. But, of course, I can’t find one. And they don’t even have one that says… “Roses are Red, Violets are blue, the flood took our home but I’ve still got you!” which would be even more ideal.
But my point is not about the cards – it’s about those, “You know you’re a mother when” things because the other day I looked at my nails and thought…
Oh I’m definitely a mother.
Because my 4-year-old gave me that manicure FOUR days ago and I’m still walking around like that.
First of all, I have temporarily lost the nail polish remover in our rental house.
Second, how can I give priority to my nails, when my long suffering eyebrows haven’t been tweezed in several months.
And third, every time I look at my nails, I think of Summer and the moment she leaned over at Dylan’s birthday party on Sunday and proudly said, “Good thing you got a manicure for the party.”
Yes, sweet girl, good thing.
P.S. I have no idea why my fingers look so wrinkly and pudgy. Maybe that’s another sign of motherhood.