Mother's Day

Every year that goes by I grow more and more appreciative of my mother.  Being a mother is simply exhausting.  And to celebrate that impossible job, that noble job, we're given one day a year devoted to just us.  And about a zillion brunches everywhere feel the explosion of obligatory gestures by the young families and older alike.  Paint a pot places double their business, the flower shops hit pay dirt, and sales of wine and chocolate go way up.

Creative.

And as wonderful as my Mother's Day was, I found myself smack dab in the middle of the last great frontier of Mother's Day staples.  In a nail salon.  Getting a mani/pedi.  Never, ever, in my wildest dreams, would I believe it possible for me to be scheduled for a pedicure.  My feet are messed up.  Not like, damn, she needs to work that shit out, messed up.  But "holy mother of god, what the fuck is wrong with her feet" jacked up.  But I accepted my gift, found a place that worked with people like me who have fungus hitching a free ride on my toenails, and off I went.

And it HURT.  Oh my gods, did it hurt.  But then they massaged my feet and legs and it was wonderful.  And when it was all said and done I wanted to smack the bitch and then give her a big old wet kiss of gratitude.  Cause for the first time in my life, my feet are on the way to being presentable.  And maybe now Mike won't make me put socks on when we have company over that includes wee ones, so as to not scare the kids with my feet.