I took great care for the rest of that day to not disrupt my French manicure. My hands were to look lovely for my big day.
The day of my wedding dawned, promising to be a brisk day. That day my soft manicured hands were placed by my daddy into the calloused hands that belong to the love of my life. That day and the next few weeks passed by in a magical yet joyful whirl.
I was officially a married woman. My days were filled being a working wife. We wanted to save money to buy a home.
Soon, we were surprised and blessed to find out we had a bundle of joy on her way! My days were still spent working. I still made sure I pampered myself regularly. As an expecting woman, I wanted to feel beautiful. My fingernails changed regularly depicting all the wonderful colors that surrounded us. Vibrant. Pastel. Sleek. Earthy.
Before I knew it, our precious baby arrived. My soft supple hands started the new tasks of caring for a baby. I was now a working mom. Life became busier: learning the balance of family, motherhood and work. My normally manicured hands didn't get the attention they were accustomed to.
I started to gauge the time between mommy pampering excursions by how many chipped places were in my nails. This was when I made time to rejuvenate myself... And my hands.
My, how time has flown by! We have welcomed three more children into the world. I now stay home to take care of our family. My hands have transformed with all the work I do, with all the accomplishments I make. Where my hands were once soft and supple, they are now calloused from my chores and cracked from chemicals, numerous washings, and weather changes. I don't mind. My hands are tools to work hard for and to care for those I love.
My third daughter came to me today and asked me to paint our nails to match. She is such a princess to the core! My heart leaped at the idea of painting my nails. I couldn't rember the last time I had done that. I had actually maybe thought about it a time or two, but always dismissed the idea. What would be the point? They just get ruined the same day. This though, there was purpose. My daughter wanted her inner princess to shine. And for the first time in a long time, I wanted my inner princess to shine. It was one small thing that would make me feel beautiful. While it lasted anyways.
My daughter and I dusted off the fingernail paint bin and picked out the most beautiful topaz. We spent fifteen minutes layering on the paint, giggling at my lack of practice. It had been so long, I was smearing the paint over my cuticles and skin that surrounded my nail. Laughing made it worse, but it was still fun.
I had made my daughter's day by doing something simply out of the ordinary. After my nails dried, I carefully set out to do my chores. I grabbed objects with delicate grace that had not been used in years, trying to preserve my lacquered nails.
At the end of the day, I was relieved to soak my tired body in a well deserved bath. I reached for my body wash and laughed softly when I discovered my freshly manicured hands did not survive the day. Each fingernail was abused and was missing parts of the beautiful topaz that had coated it just hours before. Each chipped nail has a story of an unselfish act of love and charity.
I know that I will put it on my to do list to get fingernail polish remover and remove the remainder of the color. Or I might let it continue to chip, one loving gesture at a time, serving as a reminder for me that it only takes a few moments of my time to make my child's day.
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