Spa-Mentally Speaking.....

Throughout my quest to discover the "perfect" spa experience, one thing has been a constant.

The top spas won't be remembered because of their newest gee-jaw or European-labeled-beauty-product integrity.

It won't be the Hammam or the Vichy Shower (which I hate for purely political reasons) or the warming tables or the Kashmere robes or even the Miller Harris bath products (which I loooove). Although those may be lovely inducements.

It will be a long-remembered (and recommended) spa because of a human touch-- a simple helpfulness or understanding, a genuine concern that can't be faked.

That's the spa you'll remember and want to go back to. Here's one personal reason why.

How many times have we been so over-stressed that if someone said something nice to us, we started to cry?

And the person who was there to hug or nod or say nothing, that friend was the true face of compassion. Real compassion in your private world.

But what about times we are in the hands of strangers, and for whatever reason our emotional and physical limits have been reached, and we are simply on the brink. On the brink of the strand of sanity that calls to all of us sometime in life.

And then here comes the tears. Cleansing, wonderful, embarrassing tears. They come. And the most gratifying times were when this inexplicable (but very common) emotion took hold, I was always grateful to have a compassionate soul nearby. Sometimes to listen, sometimes to explain how common it is, and how wonderful it is for your body. And how it is a compliment to the therapist.

Boy, I've sure paid a lot of compliments.

In the future world of spa, I hope to see more and more compassion and much fewer over-sized bath tubs and Vichy Showers. Not just for political reasons.

Spa 'Tude

We can't always get what we want, sings a certain old rock group that refuses to grow up. But if we try.......well, you know the rest.

And I always want to go to a spa. A good spa. Like Mii amo in Sedona or Fairmont's Banff Resort & Spa or maybe Miraval, right in my own backyard.

But 'tis not possible for the moment. Life intrudes sometimes, with unexpected hurdles and challenges, of which I'll speak no more.

So what to do when you really, really want a fabulous spa experience and you simply can't make it happen? Little things help. Like a bubble bath splashed with an essential oil of your choice (lavender is great for relaxation). Or a quiet spot in the garden to literally smell the roses or just meditate 20 minutes.

Cuddling with your significant other. Savoring the juicy goodness of a fresh peach. Reviewing your kids' baby pictures. Thinking of all your blessings. Of which there are many, regardless of situation.

That oh-so-wonderful spa-visit-feeling can be the result of your own blissful state of mind. Or a heartfelt conversation with a good friend. Even a good movie that makes you cry. Or laugh. Or both.

Gratitude begins in the heart and even though I can't always get what I want, I'm grateful for what I have.

How about you?

Chillin' and Spillin'

Hey all you Mothers!

I mean that respectfully, of course. Are you ready for the Big Day? Just don't get all bent out of shape if your Mother's Day wishes are ignored or less-than perfect. I realized there was more to rant about on this topic, so here's Rant Part Two:

As mentioned previously, it's not about a $5 card or a $100 dinner out (don't do it!) or (ugh) dinner with in-laws. Unless you really, really love your in-laws. Of course we all do! Especially mine (not kidding) and not just because they live a couple states away.

Speaking for others (it's fun and easy to do!) I know the hand-scrawled, hand-beaded dream-catchers are the important gifts. And a spa gift certificate to match. As long as your children adore you, treat you with loving kindness EVERY DAY (stop laughing) then you are truly blessed.

You have to get those young'uns trained early (get help from dad, other caregiver, whomever) to make them appreciate the daily sacrifices you make and are making on their behalf. If your kids don't know how to express their love, make sure dad (or someone like dad) instills in them the value and wisdom of Making Mom Happy.

For as one very wise husband of mine once said (the keeper-husband, not the starter-husband): "If the Mom ain't happy, ain't nobody gonna be happy." Yes, sometimes he lapses into this weird arcane speech delivery. But it sure got attention from all the right people!

And every since then, I must say, I have been made very, very happy by my special people. Except for that one disastrous dinner which we will not relive here.



Emily-the-Eldest (really Emmy-the-Eldest) can't really top her gift from last year. We still lived in New York, she in LA. That dreary, rainy May day was brightened by a cute, sarcastic card from her (I don't know how she got so sarcastic) and a Cd I think (memory's not so great these days).

But then Lew kept me busy in the kitchen and asked me to go into the living room, for a balloon that escaped from the pack, or something. And there she was. Emmy. In the flesh. I nearly passed out, hyperventilating, crying, hugging. I was a sentimental mess.

It was the best Mother's Day gift I ever had.

And it was made doubly precious 4 days later, when my sister called to tell me that our own Mother had just died. Kinda sucked the oxygen out of the room. But Emmy was there, otherwise I would have gotten the news all alone in a big empty house.

Full circle.

So, whatever you are surprised with this Sunday, make a fuss (even if it's one of those singing cards) make sure they know how much they are loved, and enjoy it. While it lasts.

Maybe next year you'll get that spa gift.

Happy Mother's Day!

Discuss among yourselves.

Mother's Day for Cynics

Yeah, we get it. Mother's Day hyberbole is all about the Benjamins.



And I'm not talking about my favorite male name in the whole world (which explains my son's name). It's about how a lovely little holiday with a charming history (I'm not giving the lesson here folks) that has been subverted, corrupted and sabotagued by the typical American Dream Merchants.



We're talking the Big Box stores, which imports most everything from China and its sweatshops, and the local florist, candy store, ad nauseum. Don't get me started on those annoying television commercials or ads in magazines trying to part you from your hard-earned dough for some bauble that you'll wear once. Twice, tops.



What once was a private way to celebrate our wonderful mothers and express our devoted appreciation for all their hard work, yadda yadda, has now become a blatant come-on thanks to mass media, to see who can spend the most money on ridiculous, unwanted things. But my husband will Never Ever buy me another:

crockpot
hooker dress (he swears it was "classy" I swear plush purple velvet is a hooker dress.
facial hair remover
toe nail clipper

Whew. That was hard to confess. And those were the good years.

I have gotten my share of beautiful baubles that are nicely wrapped and hidden away (hidden so well I don't remember where they are, but don't tell him). But seriously folks, how many necklaces do you need? Or even care about? I know I'm in the minority here (story of my life) but I am not a jewelry-drooler or phony-sentiment gatherer.



I'm more a hand-created (when kids are little, natch) or something uniquely special, kind of person. I want to see some effort there, kids! No store bought cards that cost $17 and sings an obnoxious song.



Mother's Day should be EVERYDAY anyway. What's this "You get one day and that's it, m'am" deal? I didn't sign up for that. I want undying recognition, constant adulation and appreciation.



Good luck with that, right?

But, if you've trained, er, helped shape your spouse and kids into learning a little something about what you'd really like, then the material stresses of The Day should be lessened.



Not so easy when you're starting out and trying to Do The Right Thing By Mom. Your Mom. His Mom. The other stand-in Mons in your life.

And you. You're the mom here, too. Unless you're not. But you may be a stand-in Mom for someone, and this would apply--no problem.



My sage advice?

No brainer. Get a spa certificate (do your homework first!) making sure you cover all the bases that need covering. Drop the hints. Talk about how much better it is to get a pedicure than manicure. You know how to play this one.



And while you're at it, check out this non-cheesy, fun website run by moms who have way too much stuff to do at home and at work but still manage to vent, share and offer some cool advice and witticisms.

It's: http://www.typeamom.net/

For busy, busy moms. (Like there's any other kind.)

So this is a quickie reminder for all those out there who forgot to drop ENOUGH hints for the coming weekend. If money must be exchanged, have your special unit members fork it over and then force them to create something! As a family! Without you!

And while you're at the spa, they'll be fixing some wonderful you-selected dinner. NOT in a restaurant. Only first-timers fall for that.

And then, while they're admiring your facial, pedicure and whatever else you desired, think about next Mother's Day. Which is the day after, natch. "Cuz everyday is.....now you got it.

And don't forget to check out www.typeamom.net. Ask for Kelby. Tell them Naomi sent you.

Happy Everyday!