The only thing standing between me and a relaxing foot soak is my very own disillusionment. The fact that I’ve been planning, for months now, to soak my feet in this highly-underutilized gadget my husband gave me some many Mother’s Days ago is rather pathetic. It’s been exactly 10 months ago that I cleaned the pedi-spa and perched it on the edge of my garden tub (which also never gets used) in preparation for THE perfect moment. You know the one of which I’m thinking: the house is quiet (i.e. the kids are gone); the laundry is washed, folded and put up; and the kitchen is sparkling. What’s more, soft music wafts through the air as I daintily sip a cup of freshly steeped tea, nibble on dark chocolate truffles and flip through the most current issue of a favorite magazine. All the while, my feet are awash in a therapeutic massage of scented bubbles that seem to dance at my command. Aaah! What a simple, yet elusive dream. The weeks have whizzed by – 40, to be exact — and still no foot soak. The tub has grown dusty again in the months since it was initially cleaned and it has even served as a clothing valet more times than I’d like to count. All this chasing-the-foot-soak business got me thinking about the real reason I haven’t taken the time to pamper myself. I’ve concluded it’s because I’m downright disillusioned. You’d think a 40-something-year-old mama and working wife knows that THE perfect moment will never come. Perhaps I do know, but until now just wasn’t ready to surrender. Yet, I’d be embarrassed if a full year later, old footsy tubby were still waiting for a date with my ‘bless her heart’ feet. So, today, I’m going to prioritize scheduling the elusive foot soak, even if it means my boys clamor to join in on the relaxation, the laundry is overflowing and the kitchen floor tiles scream: "Hey, wait a minute; I need a good soaking too."