Failing dismally

There’s one area of motherhood in which I’ve totally and utterly failed …

actually I’ve not even attempted it.

I just can’t do it.

Nails … tiny sharp scratchy nails, I just can’t cut them.

I filed them early on but her hands won’t stay still long enough now, so I bite them when she’s having her night time milky feed. Sometimes she lets me, other times she breaks off with milk running down her chin and looks up from my breast in an irritated fashion and says, “no Mummy”. Then she goes back to nursing on one side and the long sticky thin fingers with the sharp pointy nails reach over to tug and twist my nipple on the other side. I flinch and try to move her hand away, she bats me away and carries on. I have a long dangly fish necklace which she holds onto sometimes, I wear it for the night time feeds in the hope that those tiny talons won’t catch me as she fidgets and pulls.

People say wait until she’s asleep and then do it. I can’t, I never want to risk waking her. She sleeps, I work, or do washing, or tidying or thank you letters or cooking or bills or writing or looking for work or any one of a hundred of the backlog of chores I have to do, I don’t want disturb her sleep, I don’t want to wake her up.

I can’t see her nails properly, even with my glasses on (and yes they were tested a few weeks back), how on earth could I possibly use a pair of nail scissors or clippers? I’d sever the top of her finger. Some people are scared of moths or buttons, slugs or daddy long legs, I go cold and then hot with anxiety at the thought of cutting small finger nails.

I’ve failed dismally … this is really the only thing about being a mother I’ve struggled with. The tiredness you get used to, and her cheery little voice always banishes that whatever time of day or night.

So, there you have it, I’m an abject failure, a bad mummy … and there’s defiantly an opening in the market for toddler manicurists.