Day 5 solo parenting-off to a good start

Anthony is supposed to arrive home this afternoon. I’m pessimistically optimistic about that happening, because I’m seeing flight cancellations all over the country. It’s becoming a parenting emergency. We were only awake an hour before I screamed at the kids because they harassed me and each other while I was on the phone for 5 minutes with Anthony. It’s not like I’m on the phone all day. Still, I was over-reacting badly.

They ran upstairs in a flash. I calmed myself by starting to color a Hidden Transformation picture, another gift from Santa. This one is a peacock and also a school of fish becoming birds becoming flowers. I found a butterfly too. When I was calmer, I pouted in the basement a bit and then went upstairs. I found my babies huddled up together under the covers on Jesse’s bed, watching Care Bears on the iPad mini. I stuck my head under the sheets and muttered “sorry for yelling at you.” Jesse gave me a stern look and announced firmly, “we are hiding from you.” Nick ignored me.

Good choice, because it looks like Exorcist Mama is back in town. I better start having fun with the kids before my head starts spinning on my neck again.

grumpy about pedicures (don’t touch my feet)

I hate the very idea of a professional pedicure. I think I’m in a very tiny minority on this among women, and I do like the idea of healthy callous-free feet.  I just don’t want to pay someone for them.  I guess I’m cheap that way.

More important, I don’t want a strange woman coming at my feet with a razor. It makes me anxious. I’ve also heard that my feet might share soak water with other people’s feet? Musing on that actually gives me shivers and a mild gag reflex. But maybe the shared water is an urban myth bandied about by the 8 women in America who don’t get pedicures. On behalf of the professionals, well… Come on. Other than wiping people’s asses after they poop, I can’t imagine anything worse in the personal hygiene field than having to deal with a bunch of skanky, calloused feet all day. Plus I would just feel awkward going in as a customer. What would I say? Hi Pedicure Lady, it’s your lucky day! Meet my nasty feet!

And yet as I age, I’m finding I need a solution to all this cracking and callousing.  Last summer, I was even occasionally almost embarrassed when I wore sandals, and the heel cracking was sometimes deep and painful. I’ve tried pumice stones, softening lotions, and those scraper thingies, but really it’s too much hassle. I’ve considered my Dremel and the belt or orbital sander, but they don’t seem like super wise choices. I was even starting to think about the need for a pro.

Costco to the rescue! Last Friday I hit the big box and in the pharmaceutical section I saw a display of what I thought were battery-op tasers. Strange and unexpected, but… Sweet! They were packaged Costco-style, with batteries and extra parts in a 4-foot-by-3-foot hermetically sealed double-thick plastic tray that I could use to boomerang your head off. I drew closer and saw that it was actually the Emjoi Micro-Pedi, which will grind the callouses off your feet. If it has batteries and moving parts, it’s a power tool, and I can always go for that. I brought one home.

It’s actually a tiny little doll-size drum sander, so even if it’s not a taser… Sweet! I set that drum sander to work on my feet and oh my god!! I think I may have taxed the motor as the drum worked its way through my half-inch reefs of callousing, but I never smelled a motor burn. Amazing. It was fun too; I felt like I was sanding a piece of furniture to prep it for refinishing. After just 10-odd minutes of effort, my feet looked and felt great.

I never ever have to have a real pedicure, ever, as long as I have double-A batteries and I can order replacement tiny-drums for this brilliant little tool. But I may need to wear an asbestos mask because it generates an extremely fine dust, and it occurs to me that I was probably aspirating my dead foot skin. Another gag reflex moment.

It says a lot about the wealth of our nation that engineers were able to devote energy to crafting an affordable mini-drum-sander to safely take the callouses off my heels. Maybe it also says something twisted about our culture. I’m too tired to go there tonight though. I’m at the tail end of solo-parenting-day-4, and all I want is for Anthony to come home tomorrow and take a good look at my newly primed feet. Sweet!