Naked Housekeeping II - the Bathroom

Dec 26, 2001
      Mothers like bubble baths but they do not often get to take them.
      Mothers learn early that small children interrupt at the oddest times.
      Mothers also learn that a closed bathroom door is a signal to their children - to yell, scream, cry, pound on the door and perform other acts guaranteed to get the target (the mother) out from behind said closed door.
      Going to the bathroom just for routine visits is a trial and must be carefully orchestrated. Sometimes you just cannot go there alone.
      And older children are no better.
      I have been known to erupt from the bathroom in bra and granny panties and to wade into the fracas. (You do not want to picture that!) Done when my children had reached puberty and past it, and with me overweight------ I think I scarred them for life. But then, they deserved it.
      When a child screams - at any age - mothers run.
      They do learn this. The kids that is. We never figure it out.
      So, mothers learn that bath times are rare events - and settle for a quick shower during Sesame street or while a new toy, game or video is getting broken in.
      I used to take the kids to day care and come back to shower and dress for work. It got that bad.
      Bubble baths are once a week (if you are lucky) and at night (when the little ones are supposedly secure in their beds).
      My younger son, at 20, is still pulling the get-mother-out-of-the-tub routine. He feels that since he is a cancer patient, can't get out and get any action, he will behave as a small child and demand constant attention.
      He has been known to stagger into the bathroom (his) and FLUSH when I am in the shower - belatedly banging on the wall to warn me.
      By this time I am in the back of the shower sputtering. (Laugh. Giggle. Laugh.) Thank God for flexible shower arms and fast reflexes.
      Or even better, he will bang on his wall with pieces of his headboard (thud, thud, thud) which he has disassembled - forcing me to rise from the bubbles and stagger, loosely draped and dripping, in a panic, to his room to have him tell me that he "just wanted to know where I was". (Laugh, laugh, laugh.)
      I have taken to interesting language developments at these occurrences.
      The fact that I still have to assist him into and out of the shower leads to interesting threats.
      I do have a water gun - pump action - large capacity. I have been known to get even.
      I also try to take a bath when he is asleep or nearly asleep and content to be so.
      Mothers also double-time - wasted time is not allowed.
      So mothers learn that, while the bath is filling, they can, while stripped naked and about to bathe, get down and scrub the bathroom floor, polish the mirror, and round up the trash. They may have grabbed clean towels, put out new soap, and fetched a clean bath mat on their way into the bathroom. Planning is essential.
      By the time the tub is filled, the bathroom is clean and they need a bath. They deserve a bath.
      They have earned a few moments in blissful relaxation with bubbles without guilt.
      God save the child that interrupts this ritual.
      Which is why my younger son loves to do so.
      That Jacuzi tub I put in the house in San Diego I really miss - because a bubble bath that has a Jacuzi in it is the ultimate treat.
      Home Spa.
      Therapy.
      It is essential for a mother's survival.
      My son insists that he's moving back to that house to go to college once he's finished with chemo - and will enjoy my tub. (Smirk, laugh, giggle) While I remain up north in the Fremont house and its undersized bathtubs.
      He just doesn't ralize that I can jimmy open the door to the house and the bathroom, having locked myself out many, many times - and I know just how to get even.
      I love super-soakers!