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I'm a 20-something wife and stay at home mom. I love my small family and I will defend them to the death, if necessary.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Mission: Impossible

Before I had my son, I had cats.  They have super sharp little claws that always seem to find the 'mouse' under the blanket while you're snuggling down to get a good night's rest.  Those sharp little claws will find your feet and you will be wide awake and you will have 8 little open wounds on your foot.  Unless you clipped your cats' nails, like I did.

The first time I cut my son's nails I was so scared.  Here is this tiny little hand with even tinier little nails and I need to use a tiny weapon to clip those tiny little nails.  I was so afraid that I was going to some how cut his little finger and that it will lead to massive bleeding and I will have to rush him to the hospital to get it to stop.  CPS no doubt would be breaking my door down the next day.  None of that happened, thankfully.


His nails were insanely easy to clip.  He was about two months old, so he was squirmy, but manageable.  Since then, I haven't really needed to clip his nails.  Baby nails are paper-thin, and his would end up being hang nails before I would have to clip them, so I'd always bite off the hang nail.


He is no longer two months old.  His nails are no longer paper-thin.  He is no longer two-months-old-squirmy and he is no longer two-months-old-manageable.  He's seven months old, which means seven-months-old-squirmy.

So how am I supposed to clip his nails?  While he naps.  And he never naps.  Don't get me wrong, he's a great sleeper.  The very rare occasion when he's about to nap, the phone rings, or the yard people walk by the window with their superloud equipment, or I sneeze.  This only happens when he's drifting to Napland.  No other time will any of these events occur.


Oh, but when Daddy comes home from work, he snuggles down with no problem and naps, or naps on the weekends, but not when it's just Bubby and Mommy.  He'd much rather drive me crazy.  

Oh, and he's a perfect little angel when Daddy gets home.  I talk to my husband during the day, and complain about how the Bubs is doing this or that and by the time he comes home, my hair resembles Miss Frizzle's and I'm singing the Itsy Bitsy Spider with a twitchy eye.


Mama needs a drink.

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