10 Steps To Taking a Relaxing Mom Bath *Humor Edition*

 I love taking baths. They are an essential tool in my busy mom life!
  

 I used to be a shower person, and I still am to an extent. In recent years I have found that a good soak in the tub can work wonders on my mood, it helps with sore muscles (Thank you T-TAPP boot camp!), stress, anxiety and my arthritis pain too! In all honesty it is my time to decompress after being with the kids all day, every day.
I absolutely love being a homeschooling Mama to four awesome kids, but it can be mentally and physically exhausting.

 I try to take a soak 2-4 nights a week. If I'm having an arthritis flare, it's even more often than that. You would think this amount of repetition would make it painfully simple for the kids to understand that Mom is taking a bath, all other things can wait fifteen minutes or at least be redirected to Dad until further notice. 

Nope. Nada. Not happening. 

*Sigh*

 

We only have one bathroom in our house, so I tend to not lock the door while I'm actually in the tub. I lock it before I get in and after getting out. I do it in case of urgent needs or emergencies etc.

It has come to my attention that my children do not know the difference between urgent needs vs. totally unnecessary whims. 

 I've been keeping count and on average I am interrupted no less than six times per bath! SIX! How many times do they go to their Dad? Zero. Zero times. 

 Upon further thoughts on this topic and the sheer mass and absurdity of the interruptions, I decided to mentally keep track of my interactions with my children while taking a bath and then relay a sampling of them to you. Because we all could use a little more humor in our lives. Plus if we are being honest, this happens at your house too. 

So I present you with my typical bath time 'routine'.

Step 1
  Place tired, freshly bathed, milk cup holding, blanket snuggled toddler up with an episode of Doc McStuffins on a tablet, on the couch near Dad. Announce to my husband that I'm taking a bath. Tell the children I am taking a bath. 

Step 2
  Grab my towel and favorite pajamas. Wait outside bathroom for the traffic jam of kids who can't wait fifteen minites to go. 

Step 3
 Remove toys, and wet wash clothes from tub. Run the hottest water possible into the tub.

 I do this for two reasons.

 Reason one; I am usually the last one to bathe and the hot water tank is typically tapped out by now. 

 Reason two; because the tub never stays hot long enough and non dissolved Epsom salts are not your friend!

Step 4
  Add Epsom salts and turn on favorite worship music on my phone. My phone automatically starts playing The Greatest Showman sound track, because one of the kids was borrowing my phone. Switch music to Lauren Daigle.

Step 5

 
  Strip down, avoid mirror (I've had four kids after all) and climb into tub.

  Child knocks on door, interruption one. 

 It's Addison(age 7) she enters the bathroom because she has to pee. I remind her she just went pee, but she has to go again anyway. She turns down the music because it keeps her from being able to go...makes perfect sense. 

Still sitting on potty, 'Mom, what are you doing?'

Me: 'I'm shoveling snow. Why? What does it look like I'm doing?'

Addison: *giggles* 'Oh. I thought you were taking a bath. I thought it was summertime, I didn't see snow?'
*All sarcasm is lost on this one.*

Me: 'Yes, I'm taking a bath. But you already knew that and probably did not need to ask.
Are you done yet? Please go finish your evening chore.'

Addison: *Washing hands painfully slow, asks five more questions and comments ranging from why the sky is blue to how babies are born. I politely suggest she go ask her father. She finally starts to leave,
'Do you want me to keep you company? Do you want me to sing you a song? Are you lonely? I'm gonna miss you!'

Step 6
  Soap up wash cloth, shave legs above the shins for the first time in longer than I care to admit, and wash body. 

Someone stands outside the bathroom door, doing a rather loud, completely  believable cry.
Interruption two. 

  

I yell through the door and ask if someone is bleeding. 

'Huh Mom? What? Do you need me? Did you miss me?'... It's Addison again. 

After reassuring her that I promise I'm not lonely, and as long as no one is hurt I'm good for her to leave. 

She leaves, but leaves the door cracked 2.5 inches. *Sigh*

Ten second after Addison leaves, Emma (age 10) appears at the door. Knock, knock...'It's me Emma, I figured you would shut the door for your bath?'

She is doing her kitchen chore, 'Mom, how do you get the lid off of this cup. It is on really tight.'
Me- 'There are two very strong and able-bodied men in the living room.'

Emma: 'I already asked Alex (13), he said it was too tight, Dad said he couldn't because of the tendonitis in his arm.'

Emma hands the cup into the bath, I open it in .5 seconds. 

'Wow Mom! How did you do that?!'

Me- 'Magic mom powers.' *hint of sarcasm*
Emma leaves, actually closing the door.
That's the end of interruption number three.

Step 7
  I attempt to listen to music(at it's still lowered volume) and think calm thoughts. Twelve seconds later...
I hear a scratching  and meows at the bathroom door. Ah yes, interruption number four (Anna, age 2) has shown up right on time. 

Anna: 'Mommy, I WANT you! Meow! Mommy I NEED you!' Scratching. 

Me: Silently praising God that the toddler lock is still on the doorknob. 'Why do you need me?'

Anna: 'Doc turned off. I need Doc.'

Deep breaths, with the mental image of her getting up from near her father and walking past three other capable people in search of me. I remind her that Daddy is home and can help.
She mumbles through the door and walks off, meowing. 

Forty-five seconds later, Knock knock. 

It's Addison...again.

Number five.

 
She wants to make sure I don't actually miss her. Comes into the bathroom and makes herself comfy on the toilet lid.

'Mom, can I get on my tablet? I did my chore.'

Me: 'Yes, put PJs on first.'

Thinking to self. This is great, she will go and watch a show!

Nope. 

 
She decides to hang out for a few. She is writing a note on the mirror, so I can read it; in case I get lonely and want something to read. Also in case I might forget about her in the whole fifteen minutes of my bath.
She opens the curtains and insists I should read the note, so she can see the surprise on my face. 

Me: 'Addison'

Addison: 'Yes, Mommy?' *doe eyed*

Me: Cringing from guilt before even opening my mouth. 'Get out.'

Addison: 'Won't you miss me? Will you be lonely? Do you want me to tell you a story? Do you want to tell me a story? Can we have ice cream for a snack?

*Slowly leaving room and sticking her face in the crack as it closes.*

'Bye Mom, I'll miss you, I can stay if you want. I love you!'

Walks away leaving door cracked 2.5 inches. Every single time.

Interruption number six. 

 
  Alex (age 13) sees door is cracked and assumes no one is in the bathroom. Whips open door.(Yes, I'm smart enough to shut the shower curtain while bathing.)

 
Alex: ' Oops, sorry Mom. Didn't know you were in here. Hey?! Why don't you shut the door so people know to knock?'

Me: 'That's a really good idea. I'll have to remember that in the future. I'll be done soon.'

Alex: 'Ok. Hey. Since you aren't busy I have some questions about co-op, is there going to be...'

Me: cutting him off. 'Get out.'

Alex: 'But...'

Me: 'Unless you want me to come in and ask you questions while you shower, get out.'

*Silence*

He is gone.

Step 8

 
  Having lost all hope of having a relaxing soak in the tub, I release the tub plug and admit defeat. I Climb from the tub to find my towel has been used to dry someone's hands and my clean clothes have been trampled, I lock the door.

Vowing to never leave it unlocked again.

Then I hear a knock knock on the door and a 'Hey, why's the door locked?' from Addison. 

SEVEN. 

 

Step 9
  I emerge from the bathroom 17 minutes after entering to find everyone happily engrossed  in other things. They don't need me anymore, I'm clearly available to help them now.

Anna is passed out cold on the recliner. 

 I walk into the living room and my husband looks up from the movie he has been watching uninterrupted and asks, 'How was your bath?'

Maybe yoga would be more relaxing?

Step 10

 
Briefly consider running away to a deserted island and then secretly admit that I would miss them, plus the art work here is priceless! 

Blessings!

~Lyndsay