On the occasion of Mommy’s birthday, Daddy tries to melt away three months of emotional, mental and physical exhaustion with the (previously) fail-safe gift of a day at the spa. Unfortunately, Mommy’s first postnatal spa visit doesn’t quite pan out as planned. First, Mommy’s massage therapist has the misguided notion that Mommy wants to spend her first child-free hour in months answering a continuous stream of questions about labor, when all she wants to do is fantasize about Matt Damon. Mommy’s rejuvenation facial is scored by pan flutes, wind chimes and a lecture about the toll that lack of sleep is taking on the skin around her eyes, delivered by an aesthetician who looks 12. Mommy hasn’t even cracked US Weekly in the post-service tranquility room when Daddy calls with the news that you’ve been wailing incessantly for the past 45 minutes, refusing to take the bottle. Mommy heads immediately to the checkout desk where she’s pressured in her vulnerable postpartum state into dropping $75 on an anti-gravity firming lift cream from France that she’ll find unopened and expired in her bathroom drawer in 2020. As she races uptown at lightning speed, Mommy’s nipples leak all over the steering wheel. Serenity now!
DRINK: Zen Cocktail. 1 oz green tea liqueur, 1/2 oz melon liqueur, 3 oz mango juice, 2 oz cream. Mint leaves and nutmeg for garnish. Shake with ice, strain into a champagne flute and hold your breath for 18 years.
That is the worst! When I go to a spa, all I want is some peace and freakin quiet and a good hard massage. I have no interest in what the esthetician or masseuse think, other than if I will give them a big tip…and in order for that to happen, their lips need to remain sealed.
So true! Silence does wonders for my generosity at the envelope-stuffing station.
Convinced you are following me around on my mat leave and chronicling my daily life
The first spa trip is rough, but I know if I keep at it it will be enjoyable again someday. Keep calm and microdermabrasion on….
That would make a great toast! On the stalking, we swear it’s not true. Swear!
Exactly why the best advice I got during those 10 months of (so-not-glowing) pregnancy was that the push-gift must be sparkly & come in a little blue box.
Clearly my husband missed the memo. I am cashing in (with interest) ASAP.