They couldn't possibly be more different, so it's not really a surprise that we're hitting some parenting milestones with Mila that we managed to avoid with Alexis.
Which, thank you, Alexis. I very much so appreciate that you screamed bloody murder when I approached you with nail clippers. It made me super paranoid and, thus, we never imitated a crime scene with you. I might have been completely freaked out by your vocal prowess, but at least the only thing that was ever injured was my ears.
Mila, though. MILA.
If you've ever nicked a baby's fingers when trimming fingernails, then you know. YOU KNOW. Those tiny little fingers gush blood like nothing else. Those tiny little hands flail wildly, spreading the blood like nothing else. A tiny little cut can quickly turn into a nightmarish scene filled with blood spatter and gore that you had hoped to only see in a movie. SO. MUCH. BLOOD.
EVERYWHERE.
I've nicked Mila's thumb twice. The first time she stared contently at me the entire time I was cutting her finger instead of her fingernail. No screams, no cries. Silence. Creepy, bloody silence. The second time she at least managed to chew me out, but even then it was late. The damage was already done and she had blood from the top of her head to the bottom of her toes and all over me by the time she opened up her mouth and read me the riot act.
The second time required a full wardrobe change by the both of us. THAT is how much blood there was all over.
After the second time, I declared myself unfit for nail trimming. The poor kid has cuts all over her face from scratching herself, but TOO BAD. At least those are self-inflicted wounds. The mom-inflicted wounds come wrapped in a guilt burrito so I am giving them up. I've had enough guilt burritos for one lifetime already. I quit.
It's a good thing I fired myself, by the way, because as we were returning home from cheer yesterday, Alexis fired me again. She sat in the back seat of the car and told me all about how Mila's nails are too long, but I should stay away from them.
"You're going to have to take her to the doctor to get her nails trimmed, mom," she said. "You can't be trusted."
You know it's bad when your 8 year-old calls you out as a failure.
