We’ve been married for six years this summer, and we’ve had kids for all of them. You’ve likely noticed that when I manage to squeeze in a shower (at 6:30pm on a Tuesday after dinner while you play with the kids) I’m up there for a long time.
Actually, I know you’ve noticed, because you’ll often call up, “B? What the heck are you doing up there???” around the 15 minute mark.
So, today I thought I’d give you a little break down… and I’m sure that I will find more than one woman out there (and likely a husband or two) who can relate.
6:30pm: “Can I run up and have a shower?”
Why am I asking you this? Why do I ASK if I can bathe? Am I alone in this, ladies? I don’t think my husband has ever asked my permission to go take a shower. I typically look around and just wonder where he disappeared to.
6:45pm: I finally make my way up the stairs after peeling the kids off me, gathering any laundry strewn about the main floor and taking the dinner dishes to the kitchen.
6:50pm: I might as well put all that laundry through the wash while I have the chance. I load it up and turn it on. Then I notice that the dryer is full of clothes. I’d better unload it and sort it so that I don’t have to do it when the kids are in bed.
7pm: I’m finally in the bathroom. I brush my teeth (because for some reason I cannot shower without brushing my teeth) and notice the kids got soap on the counter that morning. I clean the counter, put away all the clutter, and notice how dirty the mirror is.
7:05: Mirror is clean. Jesus my eyebrows are a FOREST!
7:10pm: Freshly tweezed, I clean out the sink and toss the paper towel in the trash can. Trash can is full. I empty the garbage and toss the bag downstairs to go out.
7:15pm: I get my pjs out for post-shower dressing. Socks, underwear, lotion… I’m reminded that the kids are going to bed soon – I’d better get everything out for them.
7:20pm: Kids’ pjs are laid out along with blankies and pull ups. Toothpaste is on their brushes, ready to go. Beds are turned down. What else did I need to do up here again? I start heading back downstairs.
7:30pm: Right. Shower. Water is on – whoohoo! I can’t wait for that glorious hot water to hit me! Wait – I hear crying. Screaming. What’s happening? I open the door and call down to see if everyone is okay. No answer. I’m just going to risk it… Daddy’s got this, I’m sure it’s fine.
7:35pm: I AM IN THE SHOWER. OMG. It’s like a spa. It’s like heaven. Little drops of hot, liquid heaven. Every drop washes away a bit of the day’s stress. The crying, the yelling, the fighting, the toys, the boo boos, the cleaning, the cooking, the diapers… it’s all swirling all my feet and slipping down the drain.
7:45pm: Alright, I can’t just stand here all night. Time to wash up and de-hair. And there might be a little of this…
7:55pm: I’m out. Stepping into the cold sucks. God I hate winter. I dry off, lube up (with lotion, people!) brush out my hair and get dressed.
8:05pm: Time to head downstairs and rejoin the family. DING – laundry is done. Better switch it over before I go. I see my son’s favourite shirt that he asked to wear tomorrow. While I’m up here I may as well get the kids’ clothes out for the next day.
8:15pm: No need to go downstairs – Daddy has brought the kids to me! Message received – I’ve taken too long. Time to get these monkeys to bed.
The normal bedtime madness ensues, and by the time the kids are asleep it’s 9pm and I’m usually out like a light five minutes later.
Good thing I showered!