As I age I am in a quandary about how or if to celebrate my birthday. The answer varies for each individual, and depending on one’s mood, th answer may change from one year to the next until, by the time a person reaches triple digits, celebrating in some way is mandatory!
A sudden realization, as we reach a certain age, jolts us into reality, as we recognize that we are suddenly getting old. Not yet – but soon. Maybe very soon. That unfamiliar, undiscovered, murky period of life quickly approaches, much faster than we would like.
So it begs the question – to celebrate or not to celebrate. We are encouraged to celebrate the fact that we are still around and hopefully enjoying life. Landmark birthdays are an excuse for special occasions and extravagant expenses. This year did not mark a special numbered day for me. It was simply another day denoting a higher numbered age.
It is an omen of things to come – more wrinkles, weaker eyesight and hearing, more AARP mail and fewer fliers from fitness clubs, more pills and doctor visits, and less spicy foods. Offers of seats on buses unexpectedly materialize, and it gets a bit harder to keep up with the grandkids. The extra pounds refuse to leave and eventually we sigh in resignation and hope not to gain more. Memories become fuzzier and to compensate, written lists grow longer.
My yearly event seems to arrive sooner each year. This year a friend suggested we splurge on a spa visit. I agreed.
And one morning my daughter-in-law and I left the three kids in the care of Grandpa and headed to the spa.
We rendezvoused with my friend and her Mom.
The spa was beautiful – all muted colors, grays and browns, low lights, soft elevator music, and room after room of facilities – locker rooms, changing rooms, showers, pools, steam rooms, saunas, hot tubs, and long corridors of private rooms for facials and massages. It was easy to get lost.
We enjoyed the steam room and sauna, the hot tub and cooler pool. I opted for a facial, the others a massage. I felt as if my muscles were turning to mush and wanted to lie down and enjoy a long, soothing nap.
It was a short walk to the fitness pool and café, where we enjoyed a delicious lunch. We relaxed, stress-free and hassle-free, savoring five hours of self-indulgence.
We left the spa, reluctantly, at 4:00 p.m. and rendezvoused with an exhausted Grandpa and three still alive and thriving, unhurt, happy grandkids. They spent five hours at Storybook Land, an enchanted amusement park for the younger crowd. The kids had a ball. The oldest two went on the roller coaster eight times and only Grandpa, set firmly on the ground with the two-year-old, got queasy. The youngest fell asleep on the drove home, exhausted, too tired to regale Mom about her exciting day.
Grandpa definitely deserved the Medal of Honor for Grandpa duty.
Full disclosure: Grandma, aka me, fell asleep on the drive home from the spa. The pampering was too much for my body. I became too calm, too loose, too serene, and as I settled in the car for the short ride home, my eyes closed and I drifted into peaceful la-la land.
Another full disclosure: The spa day was a gift. As much as I enjoyed the day, I will not be repeating it in the near, or far, future. I cannot open my checkbook, or hand over my credit card, for a pampering privilege. It is against my DNA to splurge so much money on indulging myself. Thank you Mom and Grandma. I am just too cheap.
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