I just ended my three-week spa getaway. When I say spa getaway, I really mean visit to my parents' house. Seriously though, nothing is better than going back home to get fawned over and pampered like a child. It’s better than any resort I’ve ever been to—after all, these people that spawned me know my likes and dislikes like no one else.
Let me explain why I love going back home to visit so much more than any visit to the spa:
I get to sleep in. Toddlers don’t sleep in and when I’m at my own place, I almost always wake up early. That is in direct contrast to when I’m at my parents. These are grandparents that feel like they rarely get to see their granddaughter and find her to be a delightful bundle of joy. It’s clear they may be going prematurely senile but that doesn’t stop me from taking advantage of it. If they want to wake up early with her and sneak in some alone time while I sleep, I’m all for it. After all, I’m really doing it for them.
Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks are all cooked for me and provided free of charge. Not to mention, my mother always makes sure to cook my favourite foods while I’m at home. I’m not one of those people who love to cook and concoct creative recipes in the kitchen. That’s not quite me. I cook simply because I have to and when I don’t have to, I consider that my very own version of heaven.
I get appointed my very own personal assistant. He likes to think of himself as my younger brother but we all know what younger brothers are really meant for. To do the things you don’t want to do yourself. Picking up diapers for my daughter when I run out, grabbing me a Starbucks latte, maybe even driving me to my hair appointment. This applies even when you’re in your thirties and he’s in his twenties. Don’t blame me, blame the sibling hierarchy rules.
I don’t have to do any cleaning. This one takes the cake. I’m the mother of a toddler and thus, I’m constantly cleaning at my own house. All the damn time. My mother clearly realizes this and feels for my tired pregnant self. Accordingly, she didn’t let me clean while I was at her house. Incredibly lucky I know but she obviously feels I deserve it, so I must be doing something right.
I make money when I go home. Most people have to shell out a lot of money when they go to the spa but not I. When I go to this particular spa, I actually make money and lots of it. I visit family and never leave empty-handed. Apparently it’s bad luck to let a daughter/niece/granddaughter/etc. leave without some cash. Who am I to buck tradition? It’s unthinkable.
What’s not to love about going to visit my parents? In fact, next time you’re feeling overworked and tired and just too pregnant to function anymore I suggest you do what I do. Go home and get spoiled. Maybe take me with you, if you would be so kind and your parents wouldn’t mind.