This is Mommyhood

When you get pregnant the advice from well-wishers starts pouring in almost instantly. It's a chorus of, "Sleep when the baby does!", "Enjoy them when they're little!" and so on. What no one told me? Enjoy every single opportunity before baby comes to bathe alone and in quiet because that shit will never happen again.

Today, I decided to take a mid-day shower, which I should have known was going to be a problem. But, hey, I was feeling foolishly optimistic.

Before I even had the water running I was interrupted.

Awww, she's so cute. She wanted to see Mommy while she has a shower! Ok, so she's pulling the shower curtain back but that's OK! We have a removable shower head so I can just stand at the back of the shower where the curtain still offers some protection. No problem! And then...

OK, baby trying to get INTO the tub is a bit of a problem. Especially because as she is flailing her chubby little limbs around there is water spraying all over the bathroom.

So, to solve that problem I decide to switch to having a bath. Again, I must not have been thinking, because to kids the sound of bath water running is the equivalent to shaking a bag of cat treats in that one commercial where the cat crashes through the walls.

Soon, I had an audience.

No, no you cannot come in. Neither of you can. I don't care if you are cute. This is a bath only for Mum!

And so ensues the wailing.

It doesn't matter that I cook for them, clean up after them, bathe them, and buy them treats; Mom has decided to have a bath on her own and that is just not allowed! You can just tell that they're both thinking I'm the WORST mother EVER. How dare I bathe alone? Don't you know you relinquish those rights as soon as you become a parent? IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD! It's the worst day of their little lives! Soon, they realize the crying fit isn't helping their case and they switch tactics.

Baby Bee decides to persuade me by offering me sweet, slobbery kisses. Usually, kisses from her will melt my heart and make me give into whatever she wants. But not this time, sister! Mama is onto you!

Toddler Bee, on the other hand, quickly accepts that he can't come into the bath with me. His reaction is a little different.

I wasn't joined in my bath by kids but I was joined by an assortment of rubber ducks, a toy Thomas the Tank Engine, some foam letters, boats, and various other bath toys. Why do we have so many bath toys? They are more interested in the shampoo and body wash bottles than anything else. I hate bath toys!

Meanwhile, while Toddler Bee is throwing every.single.toy into the tub Baby Bee has switched tactics.

Yes, that's right, my daughter is yelling at me that I am BAD! This is accompanied by the occasional slap on the shoulder. She may look all cute and innocent with her cute curls and pretty blue eyes but she can be a right little devil.

Eventually Toddler Bee finds something outside of the bathroom to interest him and I am left only to deal with Baby Bee. She, for once, is actually being good! Just standing there blowing me kisses. I think, "WOW! This is great!"

I turn around for all of three seconds and hear the gentle "splash splash" of baby hands on water. I turn back around to see...

NOOOOOO! She's playing in the freaking toilet! And, of course I am covered in soap. I am yelling at her to, "STOP IT RIGHT NOW!" And we all know that children do exactly what we tell them to do, right?

Eventually she decides playing in the cupboard is more fun than playing in the toilet and changes her focus. At this point I am hauling ass to get finished because this bath is not as relaxing as I thought it was going to be. I hear the occasional thunk and thud but pay it no mind. Really, I don't care what she's doing as long as it doesn't involve toilet water.

Then I hear the repeated sounds of a toilet being flushed. Over and over and over. I'm madly trying to shave my legs while yelling, "STOP! DON'T TOUCH THAT!" And, just as I crack open an eye to check on her whereabouts a giant glob of bubbly shampoo lands right on my face. So, now I am hearing crashing and clangs and water splashing and I can't see a freaking thing. My eyes are burning and I am pretty sure I will be blind for the rest of my life. Plus, I am wielding a Gillette Venus over my legs like it's a mower over a lawn on a house that has been abandoned for a decade. I'm not feeling like the "she's got it" or "your desire" like the Venus song says. I'm feeling like a frazzled-I've-already-had-three-cups-of-coffee lunatic with a kid who has a fetish for toilet bowl water.

Toddler Bee comes to check out the commotion and once he finds it's nothing too exciting he closes the door. And doesn't that just make Baby Bee lose her shit.

I'm trying to soothe her while I finish with the razor and, of course, I slip and cut myself. Right on the ankle bone. Possibly the most uncomfortable place to cut yourself when shaving. 

Now, I look like a shark attack victim on a Shark Week documentary as blood starts to mingle with the bath water and rubber duckies. I'm cursing and screaming along with Baby Bee and wondering why the hell The Husband can't hear all this racket when he's just down the hall.

Finally, I'm done and ready to get out of the bath and I am vowing to myself that I will never again try to take a bath on my own when the kids are awake. As I step out of the tub (still bleeding from my cut) and wrap myself in a towel I am met by the sight of a destroyed bathroom and a baby covered in a mixture of toilet water, tears, snot, and body wash that she found under the sink.

And, at this point, I don't even give two shits.

I step into the hall and Toddler Bee greets me with:

I look down the hall to The Husband, who is sitting in his office, and he smiles and says, "So, was that productive?"

And then my head exploded.

The End.