I shower in fear. Not from Norman Bates or his “mother”. I do not fear slipping and falling. I do not fear soap in my eyes. I do, however, fear the sounds of water. The deafening boom it apparently makes when the droplets hit the tub. The way the splashes must sound like gun shots. The Niagara falls sound that seems to resonate as I soap my arms and legs that inevitably wakes up my napping toddler.
I have not had a shower alone, in peace, since the summer of 2010. Before I found out I was pregnant, before I had to soap up my giant belly to move it out of the way so I could shave my legs. Before I had a tiny infant on the floor in a bouncer outside of the shower while I washed myself in record time, all the while panicking that she could somehow crawl out and drown herself. Before I left her in her crib with a talking stuffed animal and un- rippable books while I shower with the door open, listening for the inevitable sounds of her scaling the sides of the crib, bouncing out, and falling to her death.
She now comes into the shower with me. I angle the shower head down and she takes up the rest of the tub. We shut off the drain and she gets a bath while I shower. It’s a pretty good system up until now, really. She gets her bath crayons and I get to shave. We kill 45 minutes that would otherwise require an activity. And I am out of ideas for activities. God help me when winter comes.
Anyway, yeah. So yesterday, after Battle Go To Sleep was over and she finally crapped out, I went downstairs to do my workout. I was quiet. I waited the requisite 15 minutes post- workout to gauge the situation, and decided it was OK to shower (Its 2pm at this point, so I smell really lovely). And I get in the shower. And I grab the soap. And I’m washing my stomach and
MAMMMMMMMMMA!
MAMMMMMMMMMA! I’M AWAKE! WHERE ARRRRRRRRE YOUUUUU?
Shit. Really? It’s only about an hour into the nap, so I know it’s not time yet.
MAMA? TAKE A TUB? HO-HEE TAKE A TUB? (she can’t say her name)
Oh God. It’s over. The nap is over, but I am in this shower, and I am not getting out. So I have to let her scream. And it’s only getting worse as I let it go on, but damnit, I need to wash my hair. She couldn’t have woken up while I did burpees? Because I hate those things. Or while I did the dishes? Or while I picked up toys? Nope! She had to wake up in the one moment that I had to myself without doing something that sucks. So I let her go on and on, all the while planning something to entertain her once I get out. Gabba Gabba is on! So when I get out, I just go into her room, put her in our bed, turn on the Gabba and finish drying off. It worked out surprisingly well, and although she didn’t go back to bed, she seemed to be satisfied for the moment. And for that moment I am grateful. Because apparently, just like being in AA, this parenting thing is one day at a time. And today I will probably smell.
Mommy Said a Bad Word 