When she was still writing, the amazing fatal feminist had a regular feature showing off her monthly manicure. And I loved it so much, not only because she wrote in an edgy, playful, intelligent manner — but also because her nails looked so fabulous.

And mine did not.

I think the last manicure I got was for my wedding. I knew there would be tonnes of pictures taken of “the ring” and I wanted my hands to look beautiful, dainty, and wedding-y in the absence of mehndi — something I didn’t want to put on since it wasn’t a part of my traditional wedding culture. So for literally the first time since conversion, I got my nails done. Because, you know — it was a special occasion and somehow “okay” in my mind. For just that day. And I suppose the day after. And the week after, until I finally took my nail polish off.

Regardless of my self-permission to indulge a little, the debate continues on nail polish being a barrier to wudhu — even the breathable kind! But I just didn’t bother with nail polish after that day.

Until I found nailart.

December nails and a warm cuppa.

December nails and a warm cuppa.

There are SO MANY phenomenal nail artists creating miniature canvasses on their hands! And I’m enjoying the opportunity to be inspired, get creative, and dive into a little self-care when I can. It takes some planning and almost two hours to execute. So who knows — if it’s so time consuming I may start a style blog, or I might just do a monthly manicure show and tell.

Probably the only clean spot in the house.

Probably the only clean spot in the house.

Yesterday was a crafting extravaganza at our house before we visited Oma and Opa to decorate their tree. I ran around trying to coordinate the finger painting, gluing, and glitter sprinkling of over 20 cards while Eryn and Ivy successfully finger painted, glued, and sprinkled glitter all over the living room floor. It was so exhausting and stressful. But oh so satisfying. Especially after seeing the salt dough ornaments turn out so nicely.

This morning though, I really had to ignore the fact that my bathroom looked like the aftermath of a ticker tape parade — and that my sandwich lunch was made of hummus and glitter.


“It’s the time to celebrate!”

Eryn’s school holiday concert is this week, and she’s been practicing her line for her very first play — a presentation on ‘Eid, Diwali and Christmas. I’m pretty excited to see her perform on stage, even though it’s only for a second. And even though I’ve already heard it in every pretend voice imaginable.

Just the thought of these little children coming together, singing off-key, crying, beaming proudly, and loving each other despite differences simply warms my heart.