A few weeks ago, I indulged in a proper bath—complete with bubbles and all. I manage to treat myself to this luxury about once every seven or eight months. While it’s rarely a serene experience, I’m determined to keep trying. I stopped locking the door ages ago; honestly, I’d prefer an unexpected visitor over the cacophony of my children yelling from outside.
“Mom, are you almost done? What are you doing? I was here first! Stop hitting me! Mom, he just hit me! I need to go potty RIGHT NOW!”
We have four bathrooms in our home. Four. Still, it seems the best option is to leave the door unlocked and hope for a miracle (sigh).
I managed to enjoy about six glorious minutes of solitude before the first uninvited guest arrived. She waltzed in, plopped herself down on the toilet, and made herself more comfortable than I’d ever seen anyone on a toilet seat.
“Why are you taking a bath, Mom? You never take baths.”
Before I could respond, another enthusiastic visitor showed up.
“Mommy! You’re in the bath! Can I watch?”
“No, and aren’t you supposed to be doing your homework?”
“Oh yeah, I’ll be right back!”
What? Almost instantly, she returned (no invitation needed), settled next to the tub with her pencil, worksheet, and makeshift lap desk.
Really?
“I need help with my homework, Mommy.”
Uninvited Guest #1 chimes in, “Mom is trying to take a bath! Right, Mom?”
“Yes, indeed, my thoughtful child,” I replied, while UG#1 perched on her throne of toilet, pointing at my chest, “Mom, I can see your… well, maybe you should cover that up with a washcloth or something?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable? You see, in many cultures, it’s customary to remove one’s clothing before stepping into a tub filled with water. Just a little fun fact!”
What can I say? I seize every chance to impart life lessons (a.k.a. basic common sense) to my kids.
Then, Enter Uninvited Guest #3. Now it’s a full-on party.
“MOMMY! Why are you takin’ a bath? Can I come in?”
“No, Buddy. Go find your Dad (where on Earth is he?!).”
“Otay Mommy, I’ll be right back.”
“Perfect.”
UG#2 pipes up, “Mommy, do you like taking a bath?”
“Sometimes more than others.”
UG#1 adds, “Mom, the bubbles are disappearing. Are you sure you don’t want a washcloth or something, you know, to…?” (more pointing at the chest area)
“Nope. I’m good. I really appreciate your concern. Here’s an idea. Get out.”
In bursts UG#3, zipping around like a race car driver, with the biggest grin on his face.
“Stop the car! Get out of the car!”
“BUDDY, YOU ARE NOT COMING IN…” (sigh) “Hi Buddy.”
“I like taking a bath with you, Mommy.”
“Gimme the washcloth.”
Me time, in a nutshell.
For more insights on parenting and self-care, check out our post on intracervicalinsemination.com. You’ll find some great tips and resources. And if you’re exploring options for home insemination, makeamom.com provides excellent guidance on the subject. Additionally, for those considering IVF or fertility preservation, the Cleveland Clinic’s podcast on IVF and fertility preservation is a fantastic resource.
In summary, a mother’s quest for a simple bath can quickly transform into a whirlwind of interruptions, showcasing the chaotic yet loving nature of family life.