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Thursday, 22 August 2013

Bathtime


As we still do not have a working shower, and I cannot spend another week wearing a hat to baby group to cover my greasy hair, I made the foolish decision to attempt to have a bath whilst both children were awake and husband was at work.

Leaving them both downstairs, I snuck upstairs to run the bath. Running bath water is like the call of a Siren to my children and I barely had enough bathwater to cover my fingernails before both appeared at the door attempting to pull their Pyjamas off. (Yes I know it was 10am but if I dress them more than 5 minutes before we leave the house they will find something to drop, dash or dribble down themselves before you can say Ariel Liquitabs.)

I’m all for the idea of a parent sharing a bath with their children, but the grim reality of this bonding experience is that you have to sit in a tepid, shallow bath surrounded by enough plastic toys to fill an aisle at Toys R Us. As this wasn’t what I had in mind, I firmly told them that this bath was for mummy. When S threw herself to the floor and screamed and W decided to follow suit in an expression of ‘one-out, all-out’ solidarity, I relented and told them that they could get a couple of plastic cups and splash mummy while she was in the bath. Big mistake.

Imagine if you will, Cleopatra reclining in a bath of asses milk whilst two beautiful handmaidens gently lap the warm liquid over her submerged body. Whispering softly, playing a couple of notes on nearby harp and generally pandering to her every whim.

Now imagine these handmaidens shrunk to 60cm in height, shrieking at the tops of their voices and drunk on the power that Cleopatra cannot actually reach them anytime soon. Cleo, her eyes full of shampoo because she is too frightened to wash her hair with both eyes closed, trying to grab the squirty penguin filled with ice cold three-day old bathwater wielded by one handmaiden and the plastic spoon used to flick today’s soapy bath water into her eyes with a surprising-level of accuracy (Gifted and Talented maybe?) by the other. 

The upshot of it is, I won’t be attempting to have a bath during daylight hours again anytime soon. I need to ensure I have a bath before bed every night from now on. Either that or I need to invest in a few more dirty hair-covering hats.

3 comments:

  1. I hope somebody reads this!

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    Replies
    1. just found it, read it, can just about remember it. Try having an 18 year old! it doesn't get any easier!

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  2. Thoroughly enjoyed reading your blog this evening. I am the proud owner of a teenage daughter so I no longer know what my bathroom looks like. I am thinking of putting a 'queue here' sign on the landing near the door or better still change the locks.

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