Haute to Trot
There is no time for a professional mani-pedi on the island.
There is barely time to shower on the island.
So I decided to do the next best thing and buy myself a tiny little treat: a brand-new bottle of Essie Gel Couture in “Haute to Trot.”
The most perfect shade of pink. Truly. The kind of pink that makes you feel like you have your life together, even when you absolutely do not.
It was unopened. Perfect. Brand new. Mine.
And then, because I am a mother and apparently incapable of enjoying anything without consequences, I made the fatal error of introducing it to the baby.
I was changing her diaper when she noticed it. Still unopened. Perfectly packaged.
I handed it to her as a token of peace.
A temporary sacrifice.
A distraction.
She accepted eagerly.
And for a brief, beautiful moment, I thought I had outsmarted motherhood.
HAHAHAHAHAHA.
No.
I finished the diaper change and went about my business, wandering around the house, blissfully unaware that I had just handed a tiny human a glass bottle of what would soon become the most expensive pink paint project in our home.
And then disaster struck.
She fumbled the polish.
The perfectly packaged, brand new, otherwise completely unscathed bottle of “Haute to Trot” hit the floor.
And shattered.
Pink polish. Everywhere.
Across the floor.
Across the wall.
Daddy’s boots were caught in the crossfire.
Pink. Daddy’s boots are pink.
There are few things more humbling than standing in your own house, staring at a crime scene of hot pink nail polish and wondering where, exactly, you went wrong.
So I have learned a valuable lesson.
Perhaps a treat for Mommy is not the best option for a teething toy/peace offering.
I still have naked nails.
Daddy has pink boots.
The wall has a manicure.
And the baby remains completely unbothered by the consequences of her actions.
Motherhood is beautiful.
Motherhood is sacred.
Motherhood is apparently also cleaning Essie Gel Couture off the wall at 8:30 on a Monday night.
I should have just eaten chocolate.