Mom hands

My hands are a wreck. They look like I have been doing hard labor out on the farm, or at the steel mill, for that matter! My nails are bitten down to stubbies (I didn't bite them my entire pregnancy). I have multiple hang nails that, for whatever reason, I continue to pick at until they bleed (a habit I have never engaged in ever, so beats me!), and quite a few small wounds (a box cutter is mostly to blame). At least I can get my wedding rings back on again! It might be the only pretty thing going on below my elbows. I am trying to take care of my hands, but it's difficult when you have other things that need more attention, of course!

I can guarantee Maya doesn't care what new shade of perfect petal pink is the hot new nail polish color for spring. All she cares about is that my hands are readily available for rocking, soothing, holding, burping, changing, swaddling, and loving. Finn doesn't care if my cuticles are way out of control. All he cares about it that I can fit my dainty nubbins behind the bed to grab his lost Lightening McQueen, hold his hand to go check the mailbox, tear the bread to feed the ducks, clap at his antics, and be ready to tickle, bathe, carry, squeeze, and snuggle him.

So if anyone feels the need to take pity on my poor paws, please do come and hold Maya while I soak them in warm water and lavendar oil. But until then, these Mom Hands will be busy cooking, washing, playing, caring, and of course a little blogging.