There. I said it.
Don’t get me wrong, when my first child was little, we’d make a RITUAL out of bath time. Really, what better way to kill an hour of time. Grace was giggly, playful, and so laser-focused in the bath. I’d sit on the floor next to the tub, and we’d sing, talk, and play with our plethora of rainbow-colored bath toys. Music on in the background. Hubby on his way home from work. Dinner in the oven. Bliss.
Enter these two crazies.
Of course, upon going from one to three kids, bath time didn’t change much right away. As infants, I bathed our twin boys in a small tub on the sink, one after the other, stationing the first in a bouncer or swing while I moved on to the other. One of them was always crying, but that was status quo for them anyway.
When the time came to start bathing our twins in the bathtub, it became easier for efficiency’s sake to throw them in the tub with Grace. Wham! Just like a giant tidal wave, bathtime changed. All of a sudden, I was bathing three slippery, slimy babes who were far more interested in water play amongst themselves than helping me move their cleanliness regimen forward. What started out as laughing and playing would most always devolve into arguing over toys, splashing uncontrollably, and drinking copious amounts of bathwater. Gross.
My blissful romance with bath time suddenly shifted to disdain. Wrangling the kids to get in the bath. Little naked bodies running all over the house trying to evade my grasp. Reminding them not to touch each other. Imploring them to stop splashing. Repeatedly telling them to stay on their bottoms. Scrubbing, washing, dumping the bucket over their head. Repeat. STAY ON YOUR BOTTOMS. Getting everyone out of the bath safely. Ensuring no one slipped on the dripping-wet floor. Struggling to get them dressed. So NOT FUN. And, by the way, how often do I have to do this again!?!
Once Grace graduated from the communal bath to the solo shower, we traded her position in the bathtime fun for our newest little guy, Quinn. Once he was old enough to get into the tub, it was almost like being thrown to the wolves taking a bath with his two older brothers. Just like that, history repeated itself.
Justin knows of my hatred for bath time, so he so graciously takes one for the team and manages the chaos (I mean, process) if he is home and able. In my book, this is the greatest gift in all the world. I mean, seriously the greatest show of love! I still participate an awful lot in this madness, but try to step away when I can. I figure, there are plenty of other things that I enjoy doing with my kids, some of which are even monotonous and boring chores or daily-routine type duties, but this is just not one of them. And I am totally okay with that.
No matter what becomes the eire of your loathing – bath time, cooking dinner, helping with homework, doing laundry, making lunches, or picking up the house – it’s okay. You are not alone in these moments of frustration and it’s okay to say so. Keep these chores short and sweet. Enlist help. Or, for those chores that non-essential to survival, skip them all together. Your children will not suffer, nor will your family. Play to your strengths. Take a deep breath, call to mind all of the things that you do love about raising your family, and do more of that.
