I hate bath time. I really, really do. I used to love it back when I had only one kid. Back then bath time with Avelyn was full of word games, playing with toys, singing… but now I have more than one kid and it’s just a headache.
Bath time now consists of lots of splashing (I hate splashing), lots of kicking, more splashing ( I LOATHE SPLASHING), lots of “Stop it Noah!”, “Everyone needs to lower their voices RIGHT NOW!!! IT’S TOO LOUD IN HERE!”, “She’s hitting me! Aughhhhhh!”, and my current favorite, “He’s kicking me in the vaginaaaaaaa!”
I’m totally over it. Bath time can suck it. Yes I could bathe the kids separately but that just doubles the ordeal and is asking for someone to get into trouble when off by themselves while I’m with the other one. I’ve all but given up on trying to bathe anyone as of a few weeks ago because it just became me yelling the whole time about being quiet because for the love of god Mommy has a headache and I just can’t take it anymore!!! So Kevin has been bathing the kids while I take my own shower and it has been a little easier. I am slightly more prepared for the rest of the bedtime ordeal if I am clean and showered. Albeit small, it makes a difference.
I wish I were better equipped, patience wise, to be better at this. It’s really no big deal in the grand scheme of things, so I hate bathing my kids, big whoop, but I feels like it’s a big deal. Stupid generational guilt. We just can’t ever measure up to our own expectations can we? Sigh. I’ll get over it. I’m pretty sure the scars my kids will bear over Mommy yelling to stop splashing pale in comparison to a few of my bath time memories.
The good news is I know I am not the only one who feels this way. Somewhere along the way I remember reading a blog with a similar storyline but it was back when I only had the one kid, so of course I knew everything and couldn’t imagine any good mother ever hating something as wonderful as bath time with her children!! (Insert eye roll. Oh how the high and mighty will fall.)
Whatever. Even though 6-1/2 days out of 7 our evening bath sounds like an epic Halo battle soundtrack, I try to stop and remember that these days are numbered, no matter what it will not last forever and one day I will look back and wonder why I worried so much about water on the floor and kicks to the vaginas. (Just kidding about that last part. Vagina kicking is not cool man.) And for every 6-1/2 days of complete and utter chaos that end in sopping wet floors and screaming
moms children, there is that one magic night of the year that looks like this:
Of course that one “magic” night only happened because someone about 2 years old maybe dumped an entire bottle of kids shampoo in the tub and someone (definitely not me) decided to just go with it and run the bath anyway. Some things just happen for a reason I guess. Something about the smelling the roses or some crap like that.