I Hate Taking Showers



Feel free to believe this is me.

I hate taking showers.  This is not because I positively love to sit around in my own stench.  Rather, I hate them because I feel that I must “abandon” my children, if only temporarily, in order to shampoo my hair and shave my legs.  I must constantly resist the temptation to run out of the shower sopping wet every single time that I hear one of my children even squawk.  I have indeed ran to them several times, and I know that I am eventually bound to slip on the bathroom tile and bruise my ass (pin it!).  In addition to this, I don’t know if I am actually benefiting my children or scarring them by running at them nude in crazed, concerned mother mode.

This morning, I felt especially terrible and selfish because I actually took the time to shave my inner thighs (you’re welcome, Sam).  Before entering the shower, I lay my two month son on the bed because then he’s near enough to hear me, and my voice is usually enough to calm him.  I left my daughter with a glass of milk and the “Octonauts.”  At twenty-two months, she is already quite independent and can be trusted to watch her cartoons and play safely while I’m showering.

Isaac, however, would not be soothed by the sound of my voice this morning no matter how many times I repeated, “It’s okay sweetheart.  It’s okay.  Mommy is right here.  Mommy loves you.  Mommy is almost done.”  I skipped saying this part aloud, but was also thinking Mommy is a hairy beast right now so you need to stop crying so daddy will touch her again.  I was determined to finally fully shave after weeks of skipping this.  Therefore, I sought the aid of my daughter.  “Emily,” I hollered out while peeping my head around the shower curtain, “Give your little brother some love. Let him know everything is okay.”

Very soon after my request, Isaac had indeed stopped his sobbing and I could now apply my shave gel guilt free.  When I exited the shower, smooth as my baby’s bare ass, what I saw made me erupt into tears as I was so completely overwhelmed with love for my two children.

Emily had crawled up on the bed and snuggled herself right up to Isaac.  She held his tiny hand in hers and gently rubbed his head with her other hand.  She beamed so brightly in a warm exhibit of her pride at being a helpful big sister. She smiled, he softly cooed, and my heart wholly melted. 

This is why forgiveness is so damn important, my friends – so that we may truly experience such moments of absolute joy.