Keeping track of 80 Nails

I was on my way to my sister’s bridal shower last week. Driving in the car, I happened to glance down at my daughter’s feet to notice extra-long toenails decorated with bits of polish here and there – the vestiges of a once pretty pedicure complete with nail art. Peering down at her feet, I was at first bummed. I had done my best to pull together pretty dresses for the party, but had neglected to take note of fingernails and toenails. I think fingernails and toenails fall into the same category as the inner ear. Those pesky little, easy to forget areas that haunt me on the way to doctors’ appointments, school, and parties. They incite frantic and racing thoughts… “When was her last bath? … I thought I just clipped his nails?” In spite of clean clothes and combed hair, long crooked fingernails with a “dirt French manicure” as we refer to it in our house, let the cat out of the bag. They are those little confessions of hygiene transgression that let others know that we are not quite as on top of things as I would love to be. After reflecting for a moment on the daggers at the end of my daughter’s toes, I began to laugh. I often wonder why I’m so busy. Her nails served as a microcosm for expanding responsibilities. Instead of life back in the day when I only had to worry about my own 10 fingernails and 10 toenails, my responsibilities have expanded to include 80 total nails of which I must keep track. I reflected… If something as benign and silly as fingernails has expanded 400-fold to become such an unmanageable task, what does this tell me about keeping up with life in general? No wonder I always feel like I’m running after the last train that has just left town!