Spa Day

The ancient festive custom at our house is breakfast-in-bed for mother's day, which was duly made and delivered. YG had a class project for me: a poem collaged with a black and white photo; plus a tea-ball in the shape of a house. SG gave me the order form for a book she's ordered for me from Amazon. And I was permitted to sit with my coffee and toast and read the entire New York Times Magazine and take a bath before going about my business. Fortunately (for me, at least) it was pouring, and the Little League game was cancelled. So YG decided it was spa day! This involved me renting a movie that I could watch while she was treating me to all sorts of esoteric massages and lotions: first she smoothed aloe gel all over my legs; then lavender lotion on my back and arms; then she gave me a cucumber and avocado facial mask...all this while watching Fahrenheit 451, which caused some fascinating discussions. Finally I had to stop the movie so she could give me what she calls a sponge bath, which turns out to be a bath with lots of bath salts, and her sponging frantically at my back and legs. She washed my hair, then soaped my arms and legs vigorously, then sponged all the soap off again. I rather threw off her rhythm by insisting on a change of bath water, as there was so much soap in the water it was getting sticky.

YG's approach to bodies is refreshingly blunt, and she is utterly without embarrassment, so that while all this relaxing was going on I fielded a number of questions: what does it feel like to have breasts? Why do they float? Do breasts get saggy and floppy when you get older? Is it weird when babies drink milk from breasts? Did it hurt when they cut my tummy open to take her sister out? Why couldn't they take out some of the fat then, too? To which my answers were: about the same as it feels to have a nose or feet; they're lighter than water; yes; not to the babies; no, I had lots of useful drugs that kept me from feeling it; and, I've often wondered. At last I was permitted to leave the tub, and we went in to finish watching the movie.

Later in the evening Spouse and I went off to see The Interpreter, which I thought was good. I've always had more technical admiration for Sean Penn than actual liking, but I thought he was excellent. So all in all it was a swell mother's day, although my skin is now very dry.

By the way, the girl's poem reads:

My nose is like Grandmother Barbara's elegant one
My eyes are like two gorgeous forests in the sea
My cheeks are cushy as a Koosh Ball
My mouth is networking crazily
My heart holds commitment that is strong as gold
I live in your heart
and I eat your veins.

The form was apparently dictated by her teacher, thus the rather gruesome ending. Still, I like it.