No Boys/Kids Allowed.

Dad gave all five of his girls a gift card for a pedicure at an elegant spa in Salt Lake City last Valentines Day. It's become a bit of a tradition, and one I look forward to. This is not only the single time per year I am treated to such decadence, but is also a chance to spend an afternoon with just Mom and my three sisters. The trick has always been getting all five of our crazy schedules to free up at the same time.

Today, the stars aligned - and so did our schedules.

So we left our various children in the hands of Ali's husband, Steve, and my awesome Bill, we piled into mom's cute little SUV, and we spent the next few hours giggling like teenagers and indulging in the best that 'girl time' has to offer.

Lunch at Zupas; where everything on the menu seemed to feature sweet, ripe strawberries. We secured a table in the middle of the busy restaurant, but ultimately opted to squeeze into a booth. We were more interested in intimate conversation than being able to stretch out. My salmon chowder was delicious and satisfying - but not as much as the dialogue between me and my girls.

The spa was lovely. Just lovely. They remembered us from last year - even remembering that last year, Megan was about to tie the knot. Apparently it's fairly rare for five clients to book pedicures at once, that these clients are a mother and her four daughters, and that the whole thing was a gift from an adoring dad.

My feet were scrubbed, buffed, lotioned, waxed, wrapped and painted. I am convinced that what I experienced at that spa added years to my life. But - again - the conversation was the thing. This time, the chat included our pedicurists (is that a thing?). The gal beautifying Soup's feet told us of her long journey of losing 100 pounds, re-defining her beliefs about body image and health, and finding herself in the process. Poor Soup ended up with about 10 coats of color on her toes as her applier lost herself in the telling. We were inspired.

On the ride home, we decided to sneak a frozen-yogurt treat in before returning to reality. We sat around the yogurt parlor with bowls of peach and tart blueberry, giggling again.

I haven't laughed so hard - nor so often - in a long while. We mourned the too-soon ending of our adventure (even though we had been gone for four hours), wished we could do such things more often, expressed how much we needed each other - the women of my family - how we are different when it is just us women, just us mothers and daughters. How lovely was our respite!

I determined that some day - but some tangible day, some real day, just later - we should escape overnight. Perhaps for a weekend! To Park City or Salt Lake or Saint George. We would treat ourselves to a pedicure, we would have good food, we would go shopping. See a movie. Then retire to a comfortable hotel room where we would talk and laugh and talk and TALK.

Help, heal and uplift each other with the power of the shared womanhood of those who have lived together and grown together.

I helped care for Soup when she was a baby. She cares for my babies, now. Isn't that beautiful? I begged for stories of early motherhood from my mother. I gleaned tips for how to lose baby weight from my amazing (marathon running) Jamie. I dished about accidental controversies with Ali.

It is marvelous to me - this tender reminder we were given - that despite the different directions our lives constantly take us - we need each other. My mother, my sisters and me.

Thanks, Dad.


Steph @ Diapers and Divinity said...

great tradition. I love it. And I'm glad you got to do it.

Diana Larson said...

I just got back from my annual "girls weekend" with my niece and her best friend from high school. We try to go somewhere new each year. This year was Amish country in Ohio. All the words you used to describe this time are perfect. They are the words that are in my heart and don't come out. Thanks for sharing. I am still smiling thinking about it.