Happy Feet

In my last post, I mentioned the logic behind the phrase "barefoot and pregnant" and how, after your feet swell to monstrous proportions, being barefoot becomes a necessity because all of the shoes in your closet cower in fear of the day you might actually try to cram those oversized sausage toes into them. Well, recently I have stumbled upon a weapon to combat pregnancy induced bigfoot syndrome. My awesome mother-in-law!

I was complaining about my chipped toenail polish the other day and my inability to reach my toes and rectify the situation when Keaton's mom, Paula, said she wouldn't mind painting them for me. What I didn't know is that when she went to beauty school before her kids came along, pedicures were part of her course of study. I went to her house with a little bottle of polish expecting just to have my toes painted and instead I was treated to a hot, scented foot bath, a foot and leg massage and a full-out pedicure. It was wonderful on my achy swollen feet! Turns out, she doesn't like to do them much so I feel doubly lucky she took pity on me. Not only that, but she bought me a pair of cushy fuzzy slippers, slip on tennies so I don't have to bend down and tie the dang things, and those marshmallow airwalk clogs--not the prettiest things on the block (like my feet) but soooo comfortable, especially for work when I spend half my time shoeless anyway. (My coworkers will probably cheer to see me wearing shoes on a regular basis.) Needless to say, though I can't hardly see them, I have some happy feet!