The girls had two friends over and asked me if we could paint nails.

I reluctantly said yes because for the past three months they have been voicing a similar request and I keep putting it off.

Why I am willing to drag out buckets of wheat, throw in some glue, and allow construction paper to be cut into a billion little pieces all on my kitchen table but at the mention of a little nail enamel - I want to run for the hills.

I am not a nail girl which you can add to the list right under I am not a hair girl and just before I am not a clothes girl. The fact that I have to spend any amount of time cutting my nails seems like a major injustice in life, let alone filing/polishing/drying them. I mean who has time to do these things. 

Previous to my girls new-found love of nail polish, I proudly owned one color of nail polish (for my toes). I never removed previous coats of chipped and worn nail polish, I simply would just paint right on over the old mess. It was a system that worked.

Now the girls want to do multiple colors patterned across both feet and hands and add sparkles on top. To me it is all just a big mess since, like all things girly, I totally stink at applying nail polish. Too little. Too much. Too not-quite-dry-enough-for-another-coat. No matter how much I try to gear myself up for this month's round of painting nails - it always ends up a rainbow of disaster. Luckily, my girls are little and have very low expectations:

"Look how pretty!"

But even little they can see through my pathetic attempt at trying to be the mom who paints her nails with her girls. Paisley has already voiced this to me, "Why don't you like fingernail polish?"

I don't even know how to respond.

It's not really the mess - we do lots worse every day.

 It's not really the time - I will read books to the kids for hours. 

I think it is just because it reminds me that I stink at being a girl and since I am currently raising two girls - this scares the snot out of me.

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