Saturday, May 23, 2009

Bath, Interrupted

It's a rare moment when I get a bath. So rare I started writing this story the other day, and haven't had a chance to finish it until just now. Normally I get like 60 seconds to shower in the morning, perhaps while Daddy and Chris cuddle and Sam is still asleep, or while Sam is content in his pack and play and Chris is at school. I rarely get the hot water, because I ALWAYS choose to sleep in rather than get up before Eric, and he uses all available hot water.
I had a rough day on Thursday, Sam was disinclined to sleep much, and by the end of the day, I had puke in my hair. Chris's new favorite phrase was "Mommy need a new shirt." if that's any indication. Moments after Eric walked in the door, after supper. And as he was trying to get his own supper together, I handed Samuel to him, washed my hair and hopped into the tub. I sank down deep, enough water to cover my ears, and all I could hear was the gentle hum of ....whatever it is that hums when I'm underwater. Maybe it's the fridge?
Anyway, I was meditating, praying, thanking God for these few moments of silence, because really I don't get much time anymore to process thoughts in silence.
Suddenly, a triangle of light beams across the tub. I hold my breathe, and I don't hear anything. Maybe it's just the dog? Then again, if there were footsteps or a tiny voice that said, Mommy?, with my ears underwater I wouldn't have heard them anyway. Suddenly, the curtain is pulled back, for a split second I am disappointed that my solace has been interrupted, but then a tiny face peeps around and smiles at me. Great cheesey grin. I read his lips, "Mommy, you take a bath?" Yes. "Do you need a duck?" (When I was pregnant, I wanted to bathe, but was afraid the water might get too hot, so I used Chris's temperature ducky to keep my bath under 100 degrees.) He thinks all baths require a toy of some sort. My toy is the duck.
No I didn't need a duck. Then he took a cold teeny tiny finger and found my belly button; my squeal made him laugh. He repeated this until he was laughing so hard, he forgot to breathe, and his face was turning red. I grabbed his hand and nibbled it a bit just so that he'd breathe for a minute. So he did. But then we played tickle Mommy's belly button (or rather lose a finger in mommy's belly button) until we both were forgetting to breathe. Coming out of the water, I heard Sam crying. Chris had come to find me because Daddy was running out of bounce to stop Sam's cries. It didn't work, Mommy had to come save the day with another meal. Of course, it had only been an hour. But just like Chris, when Sam was in my arms, he looked at me and gave me that goofy toothless grin, like he genuinely missed me, and somehow all was right with the world.

I just had to document that even though some days, more than anything I want silence and a quiet place, or just a few moments away from the kids, the hussle and bussle and general insanity; but when it is interrupted by the sweet smiles of my boys, I really don't mind the interruption that much at all.