On Friday night I went over to my neighborhood BF's house (Ashley) and at some point in my chair lounging and beer drinking her two daughters and my Lauren proudly gave me a "manicure." It was done with little tiny kid bottles of blue and pink and gloppy glitter. I gave them free reign. It was striped and slopped over the nail beds. When I said "you can do my nails" they kinda looked at me like, "what, really????" Yep. Go crazy. Ashley kinda looked at me too like I was nuts. She mentioned she was "not at that level yet" or something like that. (But she soooooo is at that level....just with other things~her nails not being one of them!)
The girls were giddy. Ava, Lula and Lauren were huddled over me and kept adding layers of color. They glittered up my toes too. I knew I was going to do my nails and toes over the weekend so I let them have at it. I told the girls if I closed my eyes it was like I was at the spa. They looked at me with love. I could feel the love. I was the cool mom.
It brought me back to a childhood memory of my Great Aunt Ruth letting me use her real oil paints and acrylics, of letting me dig through her purse, use her Oil of Olay, seating me at the adult table during dinner parties and serving me real wine in my wine glass. She made me feel less like a kid and more like I was somebody important and worthy and special.
And that is all kids ever want to be......important and worthy and simply just heard. My heart was busting with love for these precious girls and all that they will grow to be. It was a small gesture in a fleeting moment of time. And when I woke up the next day, before I took the polish off, I could see the love.