Somebody SAVE me! (A tribute to the trauma of personal hygiene)

So you all know I have 3 Littles – a BOY and twin girls. And somewhere along the way, I suppose I will admit to pre-conceived ideas about how each of them would behave. For example, my BOY would be sweet, but rough and tumble, liking to get dirty and would absolutely inherit his Daddy’s love of baseball and other sports, and my girls would be Princess-loving, dainty little girly-girls that wore nothing but pink ruffles. Yes, I am one of those girly girls myself!

I could not have been more wrong! And don’t get me wrong – I absolutely LOVE how each of them is turning out. Each in their own way, they are witty, precocious, independent and dependent, adventurous and clingy, headstrong, creative and so lovable! Amazingly, only one of my girls, Taylor, is that girly girl – and boy is she ever! She changes her clothes at least 6 times a day, all pink and sparkly, and 3 of those changes are usually into a Princess dress. She is physically athletic and fearless, though – probably the most athletic of the three of them, and has already experienced a broken wrist from her shenanigans. Lauren on the other hand, could not care less about what she is wearing, as long as it’s comfortable, and loves to chase her brother around doing whatever it is he’s doing. She is headstrong, very literal in her communications, and always one step ahead of us in her planning! She is fiercly independent and a Daddy’s girl, but is also the clutziest kid I know! We always joke that she can fall down while standing still.

So why am I telling you all this? Well, it’s because of my BOY! Colton is the sweetest, soft-hearted little boy I have ever known, and very much a Momma’s boy (which I love, of course). But my assumption that he would grow into the stereotypical “boy” has been completely disproven. As you also know, he just turned 7 – and I have enjoyed watching him grow into the handsome little guy that he is. But he has never been that rough-and-tumble, dirt-loving, bring in the bugs kind of kid (at some level I am SO grateful for that)! He is gentle and passive, quiet and shy, introverted and focused – and completely wimpy! And I say that in the most loving way – really!

BUT – what got me posting today is the experience of cutting his fingernails and toenails. Talk about a wimpy kid! If I even broach the subject with him, he literally runs and hides, whimpering in his room or wherever he thinks he can get away and avoid the whole ordeal. Meanwhile, my husband and I are thinking they are so long he could climb telephone poles with them! So then comes the wrestling match – the body block while I put a vice-grip hold on his hand (not really, but I do have to hold really tight), and attempting to cut his nails while he pulls, tugs, yanks and otherwise tries to wrestle free – all the while screaming bloody murder, “somebody saaaaaaaaaave meeeeee!” in the loudest wail I may have ever heard.

My girls – not a problem – cut them, paint them, it’s all good. My boy, not so much. The whole experience is traumatic – not only for him, but for me! It takes me hours and two glasses of Cabernet to stop that jittery, shaken feeling that follows such an experience. Next time, I think I’m going to give him the clippers and empower him to take care of it himself. Does anyone else have this experience? I’d love to hear from you!

 

Nails

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