“Tranquil” and “home” have never been in the same sentence together in my house. I think that’s why so many moms prefer to have a spa experience outside of their home. So they can:
A. Get out of the house alone.
What makes the spa experience wonderful are the extra touches I don’t have to do myself. So, why would I want to engage in at-home Spa-ing? Because I don’t have a babysitter. Here are some spa treatments I tried that left my husband hungry and me sticky:
The Scent of Relaxation
As a mom, my space is already scented, usually with an aroma not of my choosing. If I’m looking for a smell that takes me to a happier place, chances are I’m not going find it in between newborn spit up and my toddler’s afternoon poop. So, aromatherapy candles can help, if they are injected directly up my nose. Because the scent of a candle doesn’t offer much relaxation while I’m scrubbing dried spit up off carpet.
You can make moisturizing face mask out of food you have laying around the house, like a tablespoon of honey mixed with an egg white. Rub it on your face and after ten minutes, rinse it off to reveal that your skin looks exactly the same as it did before. Remember to set the timer though. If you’re anything like me, you’ll get distracted by the cat puking up a pile of grass on your carpet, forget you have it on, and become human fly paper when you take your kids to the park.
Just Breathe. But, not like that
Spa experts say there’s a correct way to breathe and none of us is doing it right. I say if you’re alive then you’re doing a pretty good job of breathing correctly, but what do I know? In order to feel more peaceful and clearheaded, without the aid of alcohol, you should practice deep breathing. This is breathing in through your nose and out of your mouth, as opposed to breathing in through your eyes and out of your ears. Breathing out of my mouth isn’t natural. That’s only reserved for exercise so I can hold enough air in to keep my lungs from coming out.
I buffed my feet with a pumice stone before soaking them in water because, like flaky people, flaky skin often doesn’t stick around for a commitment of any kind. Then, dunked my sole sisters for at least 20 minutes in a fruit mixture made up of papaya, hot milk, and whatever other fruit we had in the fridge. My feet still look and feel like a rough-skinned newt, and my husband has been looking for the papaya for the last two days. On a good note, I’ll be able to sand down our deck rails this spring with my feet.
Next time, I’ll leave the relaxation techniques to the experts. For now, I need to go to the grocery store because we’re all out of milk and fruit. I’ll try and remember to breathe out of my mouth while I’m there. That is if I can force apart the dried face mask of honey that’s keeping my mouth sealed shut.