The Massage

When I arrived home from running my half marathon in November, Harvey and the kids presented me with flowers and a certificate for a massage at a local spa. Certainly, at the end of the race, my exhausted body ached for a good rub, but after I got home, making that appointment went on the back burner. I wanted to do it, but my plate was full; the only day that would really work now that I had a toddler at home again was Saturday, and it seemed our Saturdays were booked over the holidays. I finally called the spa last week and made an appointment for Saturday night.

It took me about half an hour to get to the spa, so as I drove through DC and enjoyed a brief period of solitude, I thought about life and perhaps why a massage is a fitting treat for me right now. A few of those thoughts:

On the adoption

My fellow fire-engine redhead (as I was called as a child) has been with us now for almost four months. He was so easy at the beginning, and really he still is. But over time, he's settled in and revealed more of his personality to us--for better and for worse. He's also continued to grow and become a more adept climber and reacher, which means I have to become a more watchful guardian. I previously wrote this about my anticipation of receiving A into our home: "I had fears of sleepless nights, endless screaming, and stressful afternoons juggling four kids' homework plus a fussy, busy toddler." At this point, while A still sleeps well and doesn't scream too often (mainly when his five-year-old sister is bugging him), I've definitely had some of those stressful afternoons. In fact, those are the most difficult moments of adjustment so far for me. But I weather them (albeit not always as gracefully as I'd like), and before long Harvey gets home and gives me a hand. I'm so thankful he's always ready to do that.

As we traveled at Christmas, we felt the effect of bringing along a new member of the family. There were more suitcases, more stuff to bring back, and, consequently, a more crowded car. 

In Little Rock, on the road trip back to Oklahoma for Christmas

Both we and our parents are getting older, so it's more of a challenge to keep up with a toddler at grandparents' homes, which are not as baby-friendly as ours. However, it was a joy to introduce our little one to our extended family, and they welcomed him warmly. When we gathered with certain parts of the family, A was actually meeting his biological relatives, and they were meeting one of theirs. We're grateful we get to be a part of maintaining that connectedness. (I'm throwing in some Christmas pics for good measure.)

With the cousins at our annual Sparks family Christmas hibachi dinner

With my cousin's girls at Oma's

Tabitha filling her Christmas plate

Playing Beanboozled

Judah chilling with Zizzou

Gracie and me

Mom and me

Lately things have gotten a little muddled with the adoption process. We're dealing with two states (the one where he's from and the one where we live), and we're being told at least two different things from at least two different people about what is required of us as adoptive parents (e.g., whether we have to take classes and have a home study and inspections). We spent an hour (on Harvey's lunch break) waiting at the courthouse last week to file a petition, and we were never seen and had to leave, with nothing accomplished. Harvey is working diligently to get answers; meanwhile we wait for people to call us back and try to figure out if there's anything we can do as we wait.

On work

I've picked up a couple of gigs, both around the same time as A arrived. It's very exciting work, so brace yourself: I'm a cleaning lady. Once a week I clean a portion of my church building. I take A with me; in the morning he plays while I'm cleaning, and I finish up while he's napping. It's worked out well so far. In addition, I've been working on and off with a neighbor friend who manages and cleans Airbnb properties on the Hill.

Surprisingly, I enjoy the work. It doesn't gross me out, and it's nice to make things fresh and pretty for others. (With the Airbnb cleanings, you do see some odd things--five open beer cans on the bathroom counter? Hmmm.) I've been shown appreciation for my work in both jobs, so I must be decent at it. It's not heavy labor, but I do feel it at times in my hands, arms, and back, so the massage was a welcome relief.

On DC life

On the way to the spa, I passed through several different DC neighborhoods. Every once and a while it hits me how special it is that I get to live here. It was a path I don't think I'd ever driven before, and it was dark, but I still noticed the historic, stately homes and row homes that lined the roads, the kinds of homes and neighborhoods that I love, and they're all over the District. I so enjoy city life, the connectedness, the striking diversity that can be found in such close proximity. 

After the massage, I used my phone app to search for a Starbucks nearby, and I found one just a mile from the spa on the newly redeveloped Main Street in Takoma Park. I was happily surprised to find a small parking lot, and I stepped in for my latte. The guy working at the register asked me, "Are you in town for the women's march?" (I believe the two women in front of me had been; they were chatting with him about it.) I replied, with satisfaction, "No, I live here," and that was the end of our conversation. (Ho hum, just another DC local, nothing to see here.)

So, other than the massage-related Seinfeld scenes* that flashed through my mind, those were the reflections that accompanied me to the spa Saturday night. I'm thankful to Harvey for allowing me the space to get away and experience a physical and mental-emotional retreat from the demands of life and motherhood. It did me good.

*A man did not give me a massage. And it was not forcible.