As I climbed the stairs to get them up from nap time, I saw a flash of red. Little legs motored back in to the girls’ room, but this could not be unseen. Nail polish. I stood just inside their room, frozen solid for several minutes. I could not speak. This woman who rarely loses her words? Lost them. The girls were covered in the stuff. Thankfully, they had chosen to paint only themselves. There were two areas of the carpet that appeared ruined, from where they’d set up beauty shop. But the furniture and clothes had been spared. Thank you, Jesus.
I tried to gather my thoughts. Where is the bottle, girls? IN DISSTROEWAH. The stroller is not here. Where is the bottle of nail polish? IN DISSTROEWAH. Finally, I found it. Empty, cap replaced, in the exact same position they’d found it. Tucked away, in this drawer. I couldn’t help but smile. Their southern accents, their attempts to clean up after themselves. It didn’t take months or years for this to become a sweet memory. I was already there.
It was my fault. I’d found the bottle just recently and made a mental note to remove it from the nursery, now that the girls are more mobile and mischievous. We’d used it on their toes over the summer, but it probably needed to come downstairs. I decided to wait until I found time to clean their entire room, as I couldn’t be bothered to remove a lone bottle of polish. And I certainly couldn’t leave it on their dresser. They might discover it in a moment of bravery. And clutter makes me grumpy. No, I tucked it right back where I found it, inside the drawer. They’d never gone digging before. Surely I could get away with it for a few more days.
It eventually came off of their little bodies, although the carpet might never be the same. Nothing a few rugs can’t cover, though, while we dream big for an eventual nursery makeover. Mostly, I’m just really excited that I didn’t lose it. Silly or not, it’s true. There was no yelling, no shaming, no stomping. I was proud. The momma from a few years back would have created a big scene and some big regrets. Chris kept giving me the side-eye after it happened, just to be sure I wasn’t “fixin’ to blow.” The Lord has done so much in the part of my heart that’s afraid of motherhood. I’ve got stained smiles and stained carpet to prove it.