Sometimes I find it astonishing—and a little amusing—how much grime I can tolerate on my body and hair before stepping out into the world. There’s a strong possibility that what I’m wearing right now is the exact same outfit I wore to bed last night and for most of yesterday.
I wasn’t always this lax about personal hygiene. There was a time when I relished daily showers and fresh clothes. I can distinctly recall when my standards took a nosedive: the moment I became a parent. Ah, motherhood!
Things have improved somewhat now that my kids are 4 and 6. However, my showering routine has become streamlined to the bare essentials: hop in, wash the important bits, and rinse the grease out of my hair.
Shaving above the knee? Not on your life. Grooming my delicate areas? Who are we kidding here?
I’ve declared that I will reclaim my shower once a week. From this day forward, my “Saturday Shower” will be a sacred time, and unless there’s a bleeding emergency, no one is allowed to enter my sanctuary.
Every Saturday begins with the same announcement to my little ones and their father: “Family,” I say, “Mommy is going to take a shower. No one is allowed in the bathroom while I’m in there. Just stay with your father, or better yet, don’t leave this floor of the house, okay?”
They nod, and I shoot a meaningful glare at my husband to drive the point home. This look clearly communicates, “You better keep them out of the bathroom until I return, or I’ll be coming after you!”
And off I go! I can hardly contain my excitement as I practically trip over myself racing up the stairs for my Saturday Shower. Once in the bathroom, I crank up the Billy Joel station on Pandora and belt out my favorite tunes.
“A bottle of white…”
“A bottle of red…”
Why not a bottle of rosé this week, Billy?
Turning the water temperature to near-scalding—because it takes extreme heat to wash away that “Mom grime,” right?—I glance over the lineup of shower products that have accumulated soap scum over the week from lack of use. Pink scrubs, delightfully scented shower gels, and fluffy loofahs all welcome me back. “Hello, friends! It’s been too long,” I say with a wink.
This is my Saturday Shower, and I’m determined to use every single product. In fact, I’ll wash, rinse, and repeat with shampoo and conditioner!
As I wave goodbye to the array of lotions and makeup waiting for me post-shower, I plan to emerge from my steamy refuge feeling rejuvenated. When I make my entrance down the stairs, I envision music playing—perhaps “Pretty Woman” or that iconic tune from Sixteen Candles.
But just as I settle into my blissful moment, my peace is shattered when my child barges in.
“Hey, Mommy!”
“Hey, buddy. What are you doing here? Where’s your dad?”
“I dunno.”
“Well, Mommy is taking a shower, so… privacy, please…”
“I’m just gonna go potty.”
“Remember, we have three other bathrooms in the house. Can you use one of those? Where’s your dad?”
“Nope, I’ll just use this one.”
Before I can usher him out, he drops his pants, and the moment he neglects to lift the seat, I realize what kind of “business” he’s planning to conduct.
I try to block him out, continuing to sing as I hope he’ll finish quickly. But then the lovely scent of my vanilla sugar body scrub is overtaken by the unmistakable odor of my child’s antics.
I wrinkle my nose at the offensive smell and yelp when he flushes the toilet, leaving me in a cloud of despair.
In a final act of rebellion, he snatches my phone off the counter, switches off my music, and waddles out of the bathroom while playing a game.
Dazed by the smell, shivering, and in silence, my Saturday Shower transforms into a total disaster. My kids seem to sabotage a lot of things: my Saturday Shower, my flat stomach, and even my ability to run up the stairs without a mishap. While I can’t rectify most of these issues, I can remember to lock the door next Saturday and start the dishwasher and washing machine as soon as my husband hops in the shower on Monday morning.
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Summary:
In this lighthearted reflection, Jenna shares her humorous take on the challenges of maintaining personal hygiene as a busy mom. Saturday Showers become a cherished ritual, despite the inevitable interruptions from her children.