The hardest thing about being a mom...

Being a mom is hard work.

You have to be a superwoman multitasker who can exist while sleep deprived, food deprived and in all seriousness, sanity deprived. No one tells you this because a. You won't believe them, if they did. and b. The human race would fall into extinction. No, moms don't share those kinds of stories (birth stories, of course, are a whole other ball of wax, they're like some right of passage or something. EVERYONE shares the gory details fo their labors, and typically its when you're in own 9th month and therefore too far gone to change your mind. What is WITH that?).

But I'm not going to be like that. I feel there is healing in sharing so here is a tip for all you future moms. Get your babies declawed in the hospital. You read right. Declawed. Like they do to kittens. At least, like they did before animal rights activists stepped in. I mean, really, it can't be worse than circumscision, can it?

Okay, in all seriousness, cutting a newborn's nails is probably the hardest thing I've ever done. Even harder then childbirth. Maybe that's an exaggeration. Maybe not, though, because there is this crazy phenomena that I'd like to call "leaving the hospital memory loss" where the second you roll out those doors in that silly wheelchair with your new bundle, you forget what it felt like to be in labor. Its like the nurses perform some sort of magical memory charm as you are relased (yeah, that was a Harry Potter reference). Just last weekend, I was walking with my husband, whining about rolling my ankle when stepping off a curb (so graceful) and how much it STILL hurt days later and I actually said "I haven't hurt myself like this in years..."

Seriously. I said that. The scar from where they sliced me open and yanked out my nearly 9 lb son is still a brutal red slash- and I'm moaning about a twisted ankle! But, there you have it. A memory charm, I am convinced of it.

ANYWAYS, waaay off topic... Nail trimming is a terrifying experience. I put it off as long as I could before Jonah started to look like he had gotten into a fight a with a feral street cat (and lost, bad). Then, I had to intervene, before DCFS shows up on my porch. NOTE: In case you were wondering, he long ago outgrew all his little mitten-sleepers and socks won't stay on his feet, let alone his hands...

I tried to convince my husband to do it. I mean, I feed him 12 times a day, the least he could do is trim his nails, for crying out loud (btw, Mike is an incredible dad and helps all the time... I might be exaggerating a tad for the sake of the story)! But, Mike gives up after about 20 seconds (That part isn't an exaggeration), which is about as long as his short fuse and big man hands can stand it.

So that leaves me. Have you felt a baby's nails? All that is protecting their poor, unblemished fingertips is this tissue paper thin layer of nail. And they give you these crazy sharp nail trimmers with an obonoxious magnifying glass attached to them (not at all helpful) and you're expected to NOT cut your baby? They (the super mommies on Babycenter.com) tell you to trim while your baby sleeps. But honestly, once Jonah is out, no one, and I mean NO ONE is allowed to touch him. Make all the noise you want, but don't you dare come near him and wake him up! Its the only chance I may have all day to pee and eat a granola bar! And then they say "bite his nails". First of all, that seems a little icky. He sticks his hands in his own poop on a regular occasion. I mean, yeah, that's probably my fault, but c'mon! Second of all, I used to bite my nails for years, and I remember the bloody hangnails that resulted from my chewing. THAT can't be good, either.

So all I've been able to comprimise with is to trim after he's in his post-giant feeding, drunk on warm milk-food coma (post bathtime, for a super drowsy baby!). I tried it last night, and I was successfully able to trim one hand and the thumb off his other hand before he caught on. Better then nothing I suppose, but he still has 4 sharp fingers left and for some reason, they seem to grow in a pointy shape for extra clawing capabilities. I COULD hold him down like they do at the pediatrician, I suppose and just get it over with... but, I'm not quite at that point yet. The whole giving-an-unsuspecting-happy-baby-a-massively-painful-shot process still makes me cry everytime, so I'd prefer to keep it within the confines of the doctor's office.

Thus, Jonah is currently sound asleep in his swing this morning with weapons attached to his tiny chubby fingers, wolverine fashion.

So there you have it, kids. My dillema. Input is, of course, welcome.

Happy Mom's day, everyone!