This week I had the supreme pleasure to visit Pelican Hill Resort for Mom's Day Off with my girls, the bloggers from OC Family. I brought the kids with me, and they spent the day at Camp Pelican, the kids' club…keeping the kids occupied so mama could relax= WIN!
I drove up to the front of the hotel, a beautiful property, located on the ocean, and the valet took one look at my 2001 van that has seen better days and said, "May I help you?" Giving me a level stare, it was clear he thought I was lost. Ah, but I have learned how to deal with this! I acted as though I belonged there, and told him where I was going, and if he didn't warm up, he at least thawed a bit. As I opened the door to get the kids out, I prayed all of the flotsam that accumulates in the back would stay put and not find its way onto the pristine cobblestones below. The god of Minivan Crap heard my prayer. Of course, the valet parked my car out of sight so as not to besmirch the Bentleys and Mercedes that were draped all over the circular drive.
Once inside the spa, though, the attitude changed completely! Everyone was so wonderful at this award-winning spa. I headed to the locker room, and changed into my robe and slippers, then was escorted to the waiting room before treatment was to begin. It was a luxurious and relaxing place, and as I sipped warm tea, enjoyed the soft lights, fresh flowers and water features, I didn't want to leave. I was booked for a massage, and soon Gregory, my therapist, came to get me to begin. I was taken aback because this man was the size of a linebacker on a pro football team! But he had very gentle hands, with just the right amount of pressure. As he was massaging me, my body started to relax and I swear, I needed to pass gas. I was lying there, trying to will myself not to do so, also trying to relax at the same time. And then? He started massaging my hands, and I swear this is true, he pulled my finger! Well, now if you had a dad, you would know what happens when you pull his finger, right? Just me? So the conditioning set in, and I found myself silently praying I would "remain silent" and not just let one go. My prayer to the Anti-Flatulence gods was answered. Thankfully, I was spared that particular embarrassment!
I did find, though, that my glutes "needed work". (that's "butt muscles" for those of us that are fitness-lingo-impaired). I wear the Skechers Shape Up shoes, and apparently, I wear them too much, because my butt was really, really tight. (I always thought it was good to have a tight butt?!)Also, I seem to carry my tension in my uh..backside.the jokes here just write themselves...it's just too easy. Since the muscles never really get a chance to relax, it can cause back problems. And as he was getting those particular muscles to release (which meant pushing on my butt cheeks as hard as he could…ow!) all I could think is, "This is proof my children are a pain in my posterior!" Yeah, that. In any case, an hour later, and sufficiently pulled, prodded and pummeled into pudding, the warm, gooey kind, I decided that I was going to take Gregory home and hide him in my closet. Once I go back again, I am totally going to steal him.
The massage was followed by refreshments afterwards, and a quick dip in the jacuzzi (with a disposable bikini swim suit…the less said about that the better!) But of course, I cannot do anything that is "less".. so suffice it to say, I haven't worn a bikini since oh… 1989? Of course, the alternative was to go in au naturel and that just isn't my thing. This isn't the Eighties, and I am NOT 21 anymore. I wear clothes now. Almost always.
After we were dressed, we headed over to the Coliseum Grill for an amazing salad with grilled prawns the size of a baby's fist. No, really. We also met Kim, our editor and Steve, the Big Cheese, head honcho CEO with a sense of humor from Churm Media..responsible for our OC Family and other local publications. We had quite the nice chat. Steve was a very good sport, hanging out with bloggers who are known for candor. His education has now begun regarding tampons and using Facebook while in the bathroom.(Beckey called it a "Facebook Dump"). We ended the meal with tiramisu gelato and coffee, and more laughter. It was wonderful. Some of the girls were able to experience a post-lunch sit in their own private cabana with a view of the ocean. Which makes me wonder…did it come with a cabana boy? Sadly, though, it was time for me to go home, I didn't want to push my kids too far with a new experience. I felt I needed to get them home. Turns out, they would have loved to have stayed longer. Who knew?
The entire experience surpassed my expectations. The massage I had was the best of my life. I can completely understand how much of their client base is local. Though they are expensive, they would inspire loyalty from the repeat visitors. Some even come to the spa three times a week! I cannot even imagine. Nevertheless,it was a joy to be able to see what I am missing by not being able to live the "spa lifestyle." My kids have informed me that we need to "get rich" so they can go back to Camp Pelican. They were given parting gifts, which they thought was the coolest thing, ever. The care they received there made all the difference. I was able to completely relax knowing they were in good hands. I do plan to go back there, as a bit of a treat to myself when I can. I wonder if I could sell my children to finance that particular endeavor?
T, who wants to go back, right now
I was not paid to write this post, but I did receive the best massage ever. No one made me write this...I just loved my experience so much I chose to write about it.