Manicure for Mom

This week, Megan and Annie have come home for a visit.  We've had a lot of fun "girl time," doing lots of "girly" things like paint our toenails pink and put feathers in our hair.  The other day, we all went grocery shopping.  Walking down the beauty products aisle, Megan spotted some do-it-yourself artificial nails.  She grabbed the package, flipped it over, and read the instructions.

"Hey, this seems easy enough."  Megan said to me over her shoulder.  I walked over, Annie on my hip, and looked at the fake nails.

"Well, try it.  If they look bad, I'm sure you can take them off."  I said.

"What if they don't come off?"

"I'm pretty sure they'll come off."

"Yeah . . . I want to try them!"  She tossed the package into the shopping cart, and we continued down the aisle, looking for more hair-feathers, but not finding any.

That evening, Megan opened her nail kit and began applying the glue and pressing the plastic fingernails onto her fingertips.  When she finished, her hands looked quite elegant.

"See?  Some girls spend 60 dollars or more on their nails, but I got these nails for five bucks!  Look how great they look."  Megan flashed her fancy fingers in our faces and paraded her home-done manicure for all to see.  Those fake nails really did look great.

"Mom!  There are extras in the package.  Do you want me to do your nails too?"  Megan offered.

"Sure.  Will I be able to get them off?  I don't want them to stick forever or rip my real nails off."

"Oh no!  I don't think they'll rip your real nails."

"Well, all right.  I might as well try it."  Mom was hesitant but relented with some encouragement.  Megan sparingly squeezed little drops of glue onto our mother's nails (she didn't want to put on too much glue and have the nails stick forever).  The finished display was a sight to behold.  Each motherly finger was crowned with a perfectly shaped, perfectly painted fingernail.  We all admired the manicure and complimented Megan on her wonderful, brilliant, fun idea.

Megan absolutely beamed, "Why would anyone go get an expensive manicure when they can just go to the grocery store and get nails like these?"  Oh, the fingernails were great fun, great fun indeed.

The next day, Mom woke up having lost two fingernails sometime during the night.  Searching the sheets, she located one nail, but not the other.  Oh well, so goes the five-dollar manicure.  She still had eight gorgeous fingers.  Throughout her daily activities, Mom discovered that opening packages, changing diapers, and manipulating touch-screen contraptions proved impeccably difficult with such ridiculously decorated digits.

But Mom's manicure didn't keep her from fixing a fabulous lunch of "ultimate nachos."  This delectable dish is created by first laying down a crunchy bed of tortilla chips.  Then add some re-fried beans, taco meat, cheese, avocado, fresh tomatoes, salsa, and sour cream.  Everyone sat around the table enjoying "ultimate nachos" and zesty conversation.

I stuffed a few loaded chips into my mouth and began to chew, relishing the flavors and savoring the textures.  The mushy beans, the slippery sour cream, the juicy tomatoes, and the crunchy crunchy tortilla chips.  I crunched down on a chip that didn't really crunch back.  I kept chewing, but that little chunk of chip just would not crack.  When I finally realized that this object must not be a chip, I swept it up with my tongue and daintily picked it from my lips with my finger tips.

On seeing what I held in my fingers, freshly retrieved from my mouth, my stomach contorted, a wave of cold sweat nipped at the nape of my neck, and the masticated fiesta clinging to my molars turned to mud.  My gag reflex kicked me in the gut; I flew to the kitchen sink and spat out whatever was left in my mouth.  Then my body began to shake uncontrollably and tears spurted from the corners of my eyes as a fit of laughter overwhelmed me.

Returning to the table, holding my stomach and heaving with laughter, I held aloft what I had pulled from my mouth--a perfectly shaped, perfectly painted fingernail (with teeth marks).  A close examination of my sweet mother's fingers showed that only seven fake nails remained.  I never did finish my lunch.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom!  We sure love you.  How about I cook dinner tonight?