On nights when Geno has duty the pace in the house slows down. I always think it'll be more hectic with one less adult in the house, but that's rarely the case.

After Julia's bath, I noticed how much I'd been ignoring my feet since he came home. The kids and I would have regular pedicure nights when Geno was in Cuba.

Knowing full well I cannot just sit down and do anything without being attacked, I stand and put my foot up on the toilet lid and paint my nails. Pretty, I know.

Julia nipping at my heels, stops for a moment and looks at what I'm doing. No hands, just closer and closer inspection, I'm surprised I didn't have eyelash prints on the wet paint. She stops, looks down at her feet. Looks back at mine, and carefully lifts up her foot, peering up at me.

I take her in my lap, we pick out a pink hue, I didn't think the toxic color I had would be appropriate on her. She sat the most still she sat on my lap in weeks as I touched the brush to each of her little toes. She even sat still as I blew on them to dry. Once I put her down, she squatted down to inspect them, stood up and toddled off to another project.