Letting the kids “float my boat” or at least my feet

Em (left) and Katie treat me with a foot soak and pedicure

Last Saturday Em and her best friend, Katie, gave me a “pedicure.” Katie told Em that I seemed stressed with the younger three kids and the upcoming move, and together they decided to do something special for me. So they set up a “spa” in one of the upstairs bedrooms (we’re not using those right now), took me by the hand and led me up there.
And here’s a wonderful little miracle! I squelched my nasty, first tendency to say, “Oh, girls, I have so much to do. I just can’t do this right now,” and I went right along with it—no hesitation whatsoever. And, that, if you know me, is definitely supernatural. (I struggle with a little god known as my to-do list.)
They pulled an armchair up to the blow-up footbath someone gave Em for her birthday last year. They put a robe on me and helped me sit down so I could soak my feet in warm, soapy water. They took turns massaging my shoulders. Ooh la la! Then it was time to dry my feet, buff my nails (I just sat there like a clam; they did ALL this), apply nail polish (they’d even made a little card with nail polish swatches on it for me to pick from), and then draw little swirly shapes on my toes! I even got a clear coat on my fingernails (I’m sure Em was hoping I would pick red, but I wasn’t THAT relaxed).
It was fantastic fun, and the price was great. It made me wish that I would throw my plans to the wind (here in Kansas, they’d fly two states away) and let the kids float my boat more often. I have a feeling there are many times when they are better at steering it than I am.

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