And I Don't Pay No Luxury Tax, Either...
In case I haven't made it clear previously, I'm living in the lap of luxury. I mean it. The very lap. I know of what I speak, because one of my former jobs was as a personal assistant to a multi-millionaire (she says with a totally deadpan face). But I'll talk more of that another time.
After working in my mother's yard yesterday, I found that my lower back, but more particularly my hips and knees, were registering some significant complaints and urging me to check my driver's license for a birthdate. "Hey!," my right knee intoned, "You ain't 22 anymore, Chickie!". I was in no position to quibble as I hobbled through the rest of my Sunday.
I had so many other domestic duties around the apartment that I was hardly in a position to sit down and rest it. Besides, every time I stopped for any period of time, I'd stiffen up like crazy, making it that much harder to manage when I did have to move again.
[Kid's 1 and 2] were doing chores without being asked...getting laundry from the dryer downstairs...taking out trash. But there always seems to be something else that needs to be done, doesn't there?
A hot bath. A hot bath. Crazy people kept urging me towards it with promises of the curative powers of a hot bath. Periodically, when Highlander's had a particularly difficult day, or is achy, I've been known to run him a hot bath, turn out the bathroom lights, light many tiny votive candles and let him take a relaxing soak. But, I'm a mom. You know what I mean? Moms don't have the time for such luxurious sidetracking. Somewhere, there's a kid with a snotty nose or a tricky laundry stain that NEEDS US NOW!!
They wore me down,though, after about 6 hours of that "You'll feel so much better, Honey." stuff. Not until they got [Kid 3] involved though. "Psst...[Kid 3], go beg your mom to cooperate. She'll listen to you."
Not much of a tub soaker kinda gal, I suppose I just didn't see the point. But, I'd made a significant dent in the workload and they just wouldn't let up with it. So, I agreed. "Yeah, sure, I'll take a bath." They deserve so much better than me. They really do.
Highlander and [Kid 3] started the tub filling with hot water and Highlander started lighting all the candles. "Do you want bubbles, Mommy?," I heard from down the hall. "Sure, why not. If you're gonna do it, let's go all the way." After a quick discussion on bubble product selection, my bath had been drawn and I was summoned to the dim room.
Everyone stood around as I disrobed, which was kind of weird. Yeah, they've all seen me naked before (which could explain the mental health status quo around there), but it felt like some kind of sacrifice preparation scene from a movie. Everyone standing around in the dark as the sacrificial virgin (yeah, okay, whatever) is disrobed. If they'd been chanting, I would have bolted. But they weren't, so I eased into the tub and Highlander slipped the spongy bath pillow behind my shoulders and head and it felt pretty damned good. It really did. I soon forgot all about the sacrifice thing.
My attendants offered me reading material, but it was too dark in the room to read, and I really was enjoying the candlelight. Ever attentive and always adorable [Kid 3] said, "I can read you a book, Mommy. Would you like that?" "But, of course. Read me a book."
Wow, this bath had reading attendants and everything. I should have been doing this years ago! I'm telling you, if you can work this deal, you should really do it.
And so, she came back and sat on her little stool and regaled me with tales of BARBIE AND THE MAGIC OF PEGASUS. Not a tome I'd have selected myself, but she read every word to me. And sitting in that darkened room, soaking in the warm sudsy water, watching as my six year old read to me...well, I couldn't help but feel very, very good about alot of things.
When she'd finished she asked me what else she could do for me, and I suggested she find another book to read to me. Obviously finding that to be an excellent suggestion, she sprinted to her room for another literary classic. A Disney Princess book that had a magical wand with it. As you pass the wand over various pictures, it makes music. "Here, Mommy, I'll play music for you instead of reading. Is that okay?" "Sure, Baby. Play the music for me."
She pulled her stool over to the tub edge so that I could see the pictures with her. I know. I know. But she really is that adorable. And the concert for one began.
Shortly, Highlander came back to check on us. "I think I'm about ready to get out.," I told him. "You haven't been in there very long., " he replied. "I know, but I'm ready to get out." I start feeling guilty if I take too much for myself. And then it loses the enjoyment. He reached out his hand and I stepped from the tub. And the two of them dried me off with soft, fluffy towels. [Kid 3] taking the low spots (as she's short) and Highlander...well...taking the rest.
So, utterly spoiled, I slipped into some pj's and lounged on my bed. The two of them came and cuddled me, asking if I needed anything else. "Nope, not another thing in the world."
After working in my mother's yard yesterday, I found that my lower back, but more particularly my hips and knees, were registering some significant complaints and urging me to check my driver's license for a birthdate. "Hey!," my right knee intoned, "You ain't 22 anymore, Chickie!". I was in no position to quibble as I hobbled through the rest of my Sunday.
I had so many other domestic duties around the apartment that I was hardly in a position to sit down and rest it. Besides, every time I stopped for any period of time, I'd stiffen up like crazy, making it that much harder to manage when I did have to move again.
[Kid's 1 and 2] were doing chores without being asked...getting laundry from the dryer downstairs...taking out trash. But there always seems to be something else that needs to be done, doesn't there?
A hot bath. A hot bath. Crazy people kept urging me towards it with promises of the curative powers of a hot bath. Periodically, when Highlander's had a particularly difficult day, or is achy, I've been known to run him a hot bath, turn out the bathroom lights, light many tiny votive candles and let him take a relaxing soak. But, I'm a mom. You know what I mean? Moms don't have the time for such luxurious sidetracking. Somewhere, there's a kid with a snotty nose or a tricky laundry stain that NEEDS US NOW!!
They wore me down,though, after about 6 hours of that "You'll feel so much better, Honey." stuff. Not until they got [Kid 3] involved though. "Psst...[Kid 3], go beg your mom to cooperate. She'll listen to you."
Not much of a tub soaker kinda gal, I suppose I just didn't see the point. But, I'd made a significant dent in the workload and they just wouldn't let up with it. So, I agreed. "Yeah, sure, I'll take a bath." They deserve so much better than me. They really do.
Highlander and [Kid 3] started the tub filling with hot water and Highlander started lighting all the candles. "Do you want bubbles, Mommy?," I heard from down the hall. "Sure, why not. If you're gonna do it, let's go all the way." After a quick discussion on bubble product selection, my bath had been drawn and I was summoned to the dim room.
Everyone stood around as I disrobed, which was kind of weird. Yeah, they've all seen me naked before (which could explain the mental health status quo around there), but it felt like some kind of sacrifice preparation scene from a movie. Everyone standing around in the dark as the sacrificial virgin (yeah, okay, whatever) is disrobed. If they'd been chanting, I would have bolted. But they weren't, so I eased into the tub and Highlander slipped the spongy bath pillow behind my shoulders and head and it felt pretty damned good. It really did. I soon forgot all about the sacrifice thing.
My attendants offered me reading material, but it was too dark in the room to read, and I really was enjoying the candlelight. Ever attentive and always adorable [Kid 3] said, "I can read you a book, Mommy. Would you like that?" "But, of course. Read me a book."
Wow, this bath had reading attendants and everything. I should have been doing this years ago! I'm telling you, if you can work this deal, you should really do it.
And so, she came back and sat on her little stool and regaled me with tales of BARBIE AND THE MAGIC OF PEGASUS. Not a tome I'd have selected myself, but she read every word to me. And sitting in that darkened room, soaking in the warm sudsy water, watching as my six year old read to me...well, I couldn't help but feel very, very good about alot of things.
When she'd finished she asked me what else she could do for me, and I suggested she find another book to read to me. Obviously finding that to be an excellent suggestion, she sprinted to her room for another literary classic. A Disney Princess book that had a magical wand with it. As you pass the wand over various pictures, it makes music. "Here, Mommy, I'll play music for you instead of reading. Is that okay?" "Sure, Baby. Play the music for me."
She pulled her stool over to the tub edge so that I could see the pictures with her. I know. I know. But she really is that adorable. And the concert for one began.
Shortly, Highlander came back to check on us. "I think I'm about ready to get out.," I told him. "You haven't been in there very long., " he replied. "I know, but I'm ready to get out." I start feeling guilty if I take too much for myself. And then it loses the enjoyment. He reached out his hand and I stepped from the tub. And the two of them dried me off with soft, fluffy towels. [Kid 3] taking the low spots (as she's short) and Highlander...well...taking the rest.
So, utterly spoiled, I slipped into some pj's and lounged on my bed. The two of them came and cuddled me, asking if I needed anything else. "Nope, not another thing in the world."
posted by SuperWife | 5:16 PM
1 Comments:
I hope it lasts a while. I haven't been reading your blog long, but it sounds like you could use a little spoiling.
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