I am a woman of few loves. Love is not a term that I throw
around loosely. I reserve that term for a few, very special things
in my life. Obviously, the two loves of my life, my husband and my
son are at the very top of that short list. I love my family, I love to
eat. I love music, I love Halloween. I love a good, sweet glass of wine. You really need to be
something special for me to say that particular four letter word to
or about you. It is with certainty that I can say, I love a long,
hot shower. There is nothing on Earth that I find more relaxing. I
am an evening shower person. I like to wash the grime of the day off before I get into my clean sheets and cozy up for the night. I
love water period, but a shower is like my own private waterfall and
I look forward to it every night. Well, I used to.
Showering as a mother is somewhat less beautiful and while I keep
waiting for the magic to return, it just seems more and more elusive as each
day passes. I can remember when Archer was tiny. In those days I
struggled to get a shower because the minute that I would put him
down in his sleeper, tucked cozily next to the shower door so that I
could watch him the entire time, he would begin to scream bloody
murder. He was cluster feeding at that time and there wasn't much
else that he wanted to do. I told myself, when he gets a bit older
it will be easier...
Soon he could hold his head up on his own and I believed that my time
had come. I would struggle getting his bouncer up the stairs and
into the bathroom thinking, “how perfect! He is going to love
this!” Spoiler alert, he didn't. I ended up showering with a
screaming, yet bouncing infant losing his shit throughout the entire
event. I would try singing to him, playing peek-a-boo through the
foggy glass of my shower door. He wanted none of it. It broke my
heart. “As soon as he can sit up on his own...” I told myself.
Then the day came when Archer could sit up and play without support,
so I would sit him on a padded mat on the floor by the shower. I
lovingly placed toys of various types around him, boppy pillow behind
his little bum and took a running leap into what I knew would be the
best shower I had had in months. It turns out however, that it consisted of
a lot of leaping back out of the shower to pick up my baby who had
tipped over only to lay on his face on the padded mat, which I was
certain would immediately suffocate him. I told myself that as soon as Archer
could roll over on his own, we would be in the clear.
As it turns out, even babies who can roll themselves over don't love
just laying on the floor while mommy is in the shower. I found this
to also be true for babies who can crawl. I would suffer through my
anything but relaxing shower, while my child sat in his pack in play
in the bathroom two feet away, crying at the top of his lungs,
promising myself that when he could walk, we would be set.
Last week, with my husband again working late and Archer decidedly
sure footed enough to handle himself in the bathroom we attempted yet
another shower for mommy. I didn't want to deal with the hassle of
carrying the pack n play up the stairs, and he screams the entire
time that he is in there anyway, so I just set some of his toys on
the floor by the shower and let him roam free. And do you know what?
It was beautiful. He played with his toys, laughed at mommy (which
I tried not to take too personally) and had a generally lovely time.
Alleluia!!! The time had finally come! I walked with a bounce in my
step for the rest of the evening and the following day. Finally, relaxing showers were
going to be a part of my life again!
The very next day, I felt that familiar excitement of looking forward
to an evening shower after a long day. Again, I set Archer up with
his own little play area so I could keep an eye on him and so that he
wouldn't freak out from not being able to see me. With a song in my heart, I
jumped into the shower. My soul soared as I felt the hot water
cascade over my head and shoulders and I remembered why I looked so
forward to this time all day. Unfortunately, my joy was astoundingly
short lived. Even with my eyes closed, my ears picked up on a sound
that sent a shard of terror ripping through my very soul. It was
the low hum of my shower door slowly opening. All of the sudden, I
was the star of my own personal horror movie. Immediately, I caught
the door and closed it again, with only minimal water getting out.
“Archer buddy, please leave the doors closed. Mommy's water is
going to go everywhere.” I tried to keep my voice calm. I know if
he hears even slight excitement in my words open mommy's shower
door will become the new favorite game. “When the hell did he
learn to do that?!” I wondered. But it was too late. The damage
was done. He knew how to open that door and he had no intention of
wasting this new skill.
I adapted. It's what moms do. I began washing my hair with one foot
perched up on the door to keep it closed. This only served to anger
the small tyrant that lives inside of my sweet son. His beautiful
little face turned red with rage and with both hands, a block in one
and a dump truck in the other, he began banging on my beautiful glass
shower doors with all of his tiny might. It is in moments like these
that your mind briefly reflects on all of the times before you had
kids when you saw parents giving in to a child's tantrums and you
looked down your smug, childless nose at them. “Hmph... Not my
kid.” Well yes actually, your kid. And you see yourself losing a
battle of wills with a person one fifth your size. What can I say,
his little heart was just more in it than mine was in that shampoo
covered moment. So I finished my shower with the door open, trying
desperately to keep as much water in with me as humanly possible.
You know what, there is a reason why showers have doors. That water
is tough to control with sheer will alone.
Every so often he would lose interest briefly and walk away, like
when he moved across the room to play with the toilet, something that is generally off limits. It's amazing how quickly your standards tumble to the ground when you are covered in soap. Or when he moved get my nursing bra, which he now
wore like some type of fancy hat around the room. I would quickly yet quietly close
the door but just like a velociraptor in Jurassic Park, his head
would snap back and he would rush over to open it again.
The last straw was when he slipped on all of the water laying on the
tiled floor and began to scream, making me feel like the most
irresponsible mother on Earth. I literally threw in the towel,
declaring this the absolute worst shower of my life, which included
the one right after giving birth when I was certain my intestines
were going to fall out of my body and go right down the drain with my dignity.
I don't know when or if I will ever enjoy a relaxing shower again in
my life. I am already planning another attempt utilizing the pack n
play, but if cooking dinner with him in there is any indication it's
not looking too good. But I will never give up.
And while I am the absolute happiest that I have ever been in my
life, if I'm being totally honest there are little things that I do,
in my more nostalgic moments, miss about my old life. Relaxing
showers are high on my list. But in the spirit of grieving, here are
the others, in no particular order.
Peeing in private
Eating with two hands
Eating when I am hungry
Eating slowly
Girls night out
Day naps
Binge watching television shows on Netflix... Actually, even just
watching one episode of anything besides SpongeBob SquarePants in
it's entirety in a single sitting
Boobs that are the same size in the evening as they were in the
morning when I got dressed
Listening to loud music in the car
Earrings and necklaces
Doing my make-up without a small person hanging from my legs
Sleeping in on weekends
Conversations and cuddling with my husband
In these moments, I remind myself that of what I already know to be
true. That life with my son, while very different, is ten million
times better than even the very best shower that one could ever enjoy
and while I may miss many things from my old life, at the end of the
day they don't hold a candle to my new one.
