MY TRIP TO THE KOREAN MIKVEH

A couple of weeks ago, I experienced a Spa Night like no other.... In need of a night of relaxation and quiet time, I decided I'd check out a popular Korean spa here in town. Many of my friends have been raaaaaaving about it forever... "You have to try the scrub! Get the scrub! You'll looooove the scrub!"

According to the menu, my "aged skin cells" would be "sloughed away using a traditional Korean technique." Considering that I'm gonna be 40... someday... (she says a la Sally Albright), I had to jump at this $25 opportunity. Let's shed some mother effin old skin, people. I'm in. AND, while we're at it, I thought, let's take it a step further and splurge on a $40 mini massage replete with an oil and honey rubdown,  a cucumber mask and milky body rinse. Done and done.

Excited for my night of bliss, I invited my boyfriend's sister KR to join.... 

With children bed and accounted for, we headed out to the other side of town... Upon entrance, I think both of us were in shock to see a spa menu entirely in Korean, but on the other side of the lobby, a full display of Bumble & Bumble products. Any place that believes in the power of DeFrizz and Brilliantine is all right with me.  I was ready to get my scrub on. 

Look, full disclosure, I knew it wasn't going to be Ojai Valley Inn & Spa, but I guess I was wasn't completely prepared for what I was about to experience....

We put our stuff into the lockers, get into our robe, we carry our towels (which, oh, were maybe a little bit bigger than a wash cloth) and head into the spa room.... And there it was....

Or shall, I say... There they were. 

Vaginas. Everywhere. Like every.where.

Let me back up: I am hardly modest. I am not the girl to cover up in a dressing room when the store clerk, or anyone for that matter walks in and I'm hardly the girl at the spa to walk in to a sauna with a bathing suit on. BUT, I was not expecting 1) that the treatment tables were in the middle of the sauna room, thereby exposing body parts of the woman amidst treatment and 2) I wasn't expecting that the massage therapists, if you will, would be wearing a bra and underwear. Yes. You heard me. A bra and underwear. 

Now for those of you that might have gotten here by accident (thanks to the usage of some very graphic words), let me direct you elsewhere... because what I saw was hardly sexy or kinky. It was just different. And I knew as soon as I was directed to a table, told forcefully to lay down and then basically drenched with a bucket of water (which might I add, did feel oddly wonderful) that this wasn't going to be the "lovely" white robe, lavender smelling, quiet room waiting, spa experience that I was used to.

For the next hour, a middle aged Korean woman scrubbed the bejesus out of my skin from head to toe, and everything in between. No. For reals. I'm not gonna lie: It wasn't pleasant. It kinda hurt. After the scrub came my "mini massage." The same woman used what I think was oil and honey as the lubricant and began her work. Let's just say that with each and every movement, I was wondering what I had done to piss her off. Why is she so mad at my hair??? 

At this point, I knew I wasn't going to be getting that relaxing, doze-off, wake up drooling kind of massage, but I went with it. I couldn't remember if this was something I learned in yoga or in acting school (that NYU Tisch School of Arts clearly paid off), but with each and every shove (because that's what it felt like), I set an intention. She jabs at my neck: That's for stress. She bangs on my head (no really, she kind of punched me in the forehead): That's for worrying.  She pushed on my belly: That's for over indulging....

It became clear: I was at a Korean Mikveh. I needed to this monthly!

Essentially, with each jarring motion and touch, I released and let go of something. I was cleansing. Or at least I told myself that's what I was doing.

At the end of the assault, er massage, she slathered me with warm milk and then sent me to the showers. When I came out, I'm telling you, my skin was GLOWING. Soft and smooth would be an understatement- I was silky. I looked in the mirror expecting to be red, raised and blotchy from the scrub and the abuse that seemed to follow. But instead, I looked FRESH. I looked like how I DREAM of looking without makeup. 

Post scrub/ beat down, we spent several minutes relaxing in the heated Himalayan salt room (I think thats what it was) and then laying down on a blanket on a warmed jade floor....

Next thing I knew, it was 10pm and we were being kicked out… and I didn't want to leave. I was soooooo relaxed. 

Is this like Stockholm Syndrome???

I'm in.

A NOT-SO QUICK ERRAND

It's official: As long as my 38" partner in crime is in tow, I will never be able to "zip" in and out of anything or anywhere. Ever. Again.

With a 3 year old, there is nothing quick, fast, seamless, or easy about getting anything of importance done really.

Everything requires patience, precision, and a go with the flow mentality.

As a former master of errands, multi-tasking, and to-do list crossing, this hurts me greatly.

However, I have learned that adding 20 minutes (and a bag of peanut butter pretzels) of THIS....

... to do what would have/ should have taken me 20 seconds to buy THIS....

... is priceless.

12 DAYS OF MOMMY: DISNEY ON ICE

Day 1

It was a lazy, lazy morning. The kind that was so comfy and so perfect, I wondered if i was doing something wrong. I could get used to this...

The big event of the day: taking Jonah Downtown to Staples Center to see Disney on Ice. Not quite understanding the concept of "a show," he kept asking if he would get to skate at the "ice skating school." (Apparently his only understanding of ice skating at this point is from Murray on Ses. Street going to skating school. LOL).

My bf and I were so excited to tell him that this was where the Lakers play. "Kobe DRYant?" he asked.

"Yup, Kobe DRYant." (Incidentally, am I the only parent who actively chooses to let their child pronounce/say things wrong because it sounds so cute?)

The minute we walked through the doors of Staples Center, the yellow, purple and Jack Nicholson-filled stadium was no where to be found. Oh no, it was all things Disney--- and they get ya at the door. Literally. We didn't take more than 15 steps until J spotted a vendor selling an overpriced plastic chatchke that lights up and turns children in to "gimmee now" zombies. Equally enamored, and apparently made of money, his every wish was my command. Thankfully he settled on a pair of Mickey binoculars, cotton candy that came with Mickey ears, and a bucket of popcorn. $42 later, we were off to our seats.

Then the magic happened....

Watching Jonah's eyes pop when the characters emerged on to the ice was priceless. He marveled, waved and cheered and... holy shit: he sat still for two hours!!!

Though he did love seeing his favorites like Mickey, Buzz, and Woody dancing and singing... on ice... I would say Jonah was mostly enthralled with the set changes and curious about where the characters were disappearing to when they skated off the ice behind the curtain...

For me, I'll be honest, though beyond excited to be sharing something special like this with my son for the first time, as a whole, it was hard for me to not think about what "Mulan" or "Snow White" really wanted to be when they grew up. Watching them lip sync to the songs and stumble/fall every now and again, reminded me of a cruise ship performance. In fact, I wondered how many of these actors even spoke English. I don't mean to sound critical or cynical-- it was fun! I'm just saying, "Aladdin" didn't exactly skate like Johnny Weir that's all.

There were definitely some "scary" parts for little J.... Like the dancing brooms during Fantasia... or the spooky skeleton greeting other evil characters like Captain Hook and Cruella De Villa. Much like his first time on Pirates of the Caribbean, I held him tight, told him that it was all pretend and delighted in knowing that these would be the memories shaping his imagination and boyhood....

All in all it was a fun day and a great way to start 12 Days of Mommy.

PS. Minute by minute, I think this is quickly turning into 12 Days of Eating. Yikes.