ABOUT WOMEN
Pedicures provide Mom with some pampering, much peace

By Christie Wilson
Advertiser Staff Writer

It's weird how memories of seemingly insignificant and long-ago events can resurface, jarred loose from the depths of your consciousness by current circumstances. Here's an example:

When I was 9 or 10, a bunch of us neighborhood kids burst into my friend's house in search of a snack after a round of chasemaster outside. My friend disappeared to track down his mom in the back of the house, and moments later we heard the woman shriek, "Can't I even take a — in peace?!"

Our jaws went slack and we stared at one another in astonishment before collapsing on the green shag carpet and rolling around in hysterical laughter. It was the 1960s, and you just didn't hear the poo word or any other vulgarity issue forth from the lips of one of the highly groomed suburban moms.

At the time, I thought it was just about the most hilarious thing I'd ever heard.

I don't see what's so funny anymore.

By the time I drag myself into the house after work, drop my purse on the counter, kick my shoes off and head straight for the sanctity of my bedroom, the kids have been motherless for 10 or 12 hours. Most of the time I can't even get my clothes off before one of them pushes the door open to complain about an unfair homework assignment or to provide a breathless account of the latest news from the playground.

They don't seem to notice that I'm half undressed until I interrupt them with the words, "A little privacy, please." It may be more polite than what my friend's mom blurted out those many years ago, but the sentiment is the same.

As mothers, we love our families to death. We feel guilty for not spending as much time with them as we'd like, and feel even more guilty because we also crave time alone. And when birthday parties or other activities arise to get the kiddies out of the house for half the day, darned if two hours don't pass before we find ourselves missing the little buggers.

That's why this pedicure thing has become a lifesaver.

I had my first pedicure as a lark at a swanky resort spa while a friend was visiting six months ago. Then I discovered you could get them for a third of the price at the ubiquitous nail salons around town. Now I have a monthly appointment.

Pedicures last about an hour and a half, during which time you sit in a vibrating chair with your tired tootsies in a soothing, warm bath. A stranger who makes no demands files away weeks of wear and tear and massages your aching calves and feet.

I usually pass the time silently, either reading a magazine or with my eyes closed so I can concentrate on the pampering. "In the zone" is what I like to call it.

Of course, I feel guilty about spending money on something others might find frivolous. But who said free time was cheap?

And it's amazing how pretty pink toenails can perk up your outlook.

Reach Christie Wilson at cwilson@honoluluadvertiser.com.