Coddled Insanity

Being over forty, married, and the parent of a teenager, I often feel as though I need to be coddled.  Webster's definition says, cook gently or treat tenderly, indulge, cater to, pamper.  Yeah, I say, that would be nice.  And that is where the insanity comes in.  A forty-something mother of a teenager is never coddled. (Neglected, mistreated, accused of losing things, but never coddled) 

But insanity does run in my family.  In my mind I dream of lying on a beach somewhere, (my body once again slim and sexy), a tall, frosty drink beside me, and a handsome cabana boy waiting on me hand and foot.  My husband, (thick, luxuriant hair once again on his head) feeding me chocolate-dipped strawberries and rubbing coconut oil all over my golden-tanned skin. Not with the same hand of course. Ick!

My teenager is missing completely from my coddled insanity.  Perhaps he moved to Alaska to work on the pipeline and eats raw fish every day, making him more than grateful for whatever I cook from now on. 

But back to the beach.  The azure blue of the sea is so beautiful it hurts to look at it.  I close my eyes and feel the heat of the sun on my face, the warm sand beneath my blanket, and my husband's hands rubbing over my…

My eyes fly open and I realize I was snoring.  The other women at the Spa party are all staring at me, green avocado masks covering their faces.  It's like waking up and finding yourself on Mars.  Ten pair of eyes just blink and stare.  This is definitely coddled insanity.