Shout out to Mothers & a Funny Spa Story

I would like to clarify my last blog. I know it was a little random, and all of a sudden I went OFF on a certain kind of women and by association a certain kind of mother. I know some of you will think that is strange seeing is how I am going to BE a mother very shortly. Maybe some of you are thinking that I'm going to be one of those women that will continue to work and ship my kid off to a day care center. Actually, it's the opposite. I plan on being a full time stay at home mother.

I don't know how this popped up in my mind, but I think it stems from an old "survey" someone had sent to me and under the question, "When you were young, what did you want to be when you grew up?" and they answered "A Mother."

Now, I want everyone to know that I don't have any personal experience on the matter, but I'm pretty sure that being a mother is going to be the hardest thing I've ever done. And I married a South American (ba dum dum, CHING! Thanks folks, I'll be here all week) And I am a little scared about it. Actually, I'm a LOT scared. I don't know what I was thinking. But that's neither here nor there. The truth is that being a mother is not my decision.

I have a cousin that has a very rare medical condition and she can't have kids. Her condition has to do with her heart, or her liver, or something. Anyway, not only can she NOT have kids, no adoption agency will give her any kids because medically speaking, she could keel over at any moment. She's applied with EVERY adoption agency possible, but they all tell her no. She's been married for almost 20 years (to the same man, who is a DOCTOR by the way, so money isn't a problem), with stable health most of those years. But because she has this condition there is no way she will ever have kids of her own.

What if her GREATEST AMBITION were to be a mother? Does that mean that she's a failure because she can never reach that goal? Of course not!!! (If any of you said YES, then stop reading my blog immediately. I hate you) That's why I likened it to growing a 6th toe. I really don't have any say over my body's toe growing properties, nor do I have any say over my body's ability to have kids. For almost anyone else, if they couldn't conceive themselves, there is adoption or IVF or other things. But not for some.

So I was just commenting on how I think it is very strange that that is what this one person said they wanted to be when they grow up. I guess I always considered a goal as being something that I had a say in and something to which I could contribute. While I CAN contribute to the kids (if given the chance), it's still not all 100% my decision.

Mostly, I'm coming down on those people that go off to BYU with NO INTENTION of ever getting a degree. They hope to be engaged their first semester and then married the summer after their first year. They'll turn 19 the month after they get married, and then get knocked up in 4 months. THOSE are the women I'm talking about, who's ONLY DESIRE is to be married and knocked up before they even know who they are.

And I have found that those are usually the same people that say that their mothers are their best friends. That's why they got lumped together in the same category. I'm probably just projecting this stereotype onto many undeserving people because the person who wrote the survey answer was just like that.

But I would like to publicly state that if you don't want to do ANYTHING else but be a mother, then you aren't achieving your full potential as a daughter of God. You are here to expand your intelligence in all ways. That doesn't mean you have to work full time or get a PhD, but there needs to be continual striving for learning. If you become a mom and say, "That's it, I'm done" I don't think you are becoming all you can be (in the Army).

I would like to take this time to publicly praise the wonderful mothers I know. Judd, Reagan, Lisa, Tina and Amy. (And I'm sure there are others i'm leaving out) I would like to say that your patience, suffering and selflessness astound me. I hope that someday I can be HALF the mothers that you are. I already know that I am seriously lacking in the self discipline department, so i fear the future. I guess I'll just have to call all of you a lot more to get some good mothering advice.

And now, to this VERY serious blog I will add a funny story. The "wet towel at the spa" incident. I went to the Sego Lily spa last Saturday and among many treatments, I got a BODY SCRUB. This is what the flyer says about the treatment.

"Honey Body Polish: An exfoliating paste of natural salts and honey combine to leave the skin soft and luminous. A relaxing Vichy rain rinses the body to a satin-smooth finish."

Here is what they don't tell you: you will be ASS NAKED under a WET TOWEL (which leaves nothing to the imagination) while a GAY LITTLE LATIN MAN NAMED JAVIER rubs your body. (Including the fat rolls on the side of your torso).

If they would've told me this right up front, I probably wouldn't have agreed to this. But they are sneaky there at the spa, and they don't tell you these things until it's too late. Not until Javier explained what I was to do and walked out of the room did I fully comprehend that the towel he told me I would be lying under was WAY TOO SMALL FOR MY BODY. (And this is before I knew it would be wet, pues!!!)

So I decide to suck it up, and just get under it. Which I do. And then I see that my SIDES are sticking out!! With the fat rolls showing!! And my boobs which are large with pregnancy are trying to spill out the sides of the towel and make a place for themselves in my armpits. I glue my arms to my side to prevent the rolls and boobs from escaping and await the return of Javier.

And return he does. And then I see it!! At the foot of my little "bed" there is what appears to be a car washing mechanism. That's the only way I can describe it. It's a arm/bar that has 5 small shower heads on it and it can be moved and manipulated to go up your body horizontally, or across your body vertically. Imagine a car wash where the car stands still and the machinery moves around it. That's what's happening here. And I'm the Astro Van getting clean.

And then it takes me FAR to long to realize that he's about to SOAK afore mentioned mini-towel with this shower mechanism. And he does. And I'm terrified and paralyzed. He rolls up the towel until it makes a nice little bikini line at the top of my thigh and then he proceeds to use his little gay Latin hands to make me forget all about the wet towel clinging to every curve, roll, hair (ew!!!) and boob on my body. And I do forget. And it's lovely.

And THEN I get to turn over. I get to do this so he doesn't see me, but AGAIN my boobs are trying to poke out the sides as I'm lying face down. I try to tuck them in without him seeing me, but I eventually give up. And let's be honest: Javier the gay spa worker doesn't give a crap about my saggy pregnancy boobs.

So I'm again being soaked by the water which is now lined vertically and I have a somewhat uncomfortable trickle aimed directly at my butt crack and thence dribbling down between my cheeks. Lovely. I'm sure that HUGE crevasse I was making in the towel from my butt crack was a nice visual for ANYONE gay, straight, Latin, Chinese or otherwise.

And then it happens: He rolls back the towel again, following a nice modest bathing suit line, and then rolls it back off my shoulders. I think "Oh, nice! He's going to do the backs of my arms too!!!" AND THEN HE FOLDS BACK THE WET WET TOWEL AND FLOPS IT OVER MY BUTT!! While I am grateful he's no longer looking at an outline of my butt crack, I realize that I'm wearing a towel diaper. Beautiful.

I once again forget all about my wet towel loin cloth as I am rubbed all over with delicious smelling salts. And then the water rinses me, and I'm done.

If I had the balls, I would've asked Javier to take a picture of me so you could all enjoy a visual with this story. Let's all be thankful I didn't.