Clean Chaos

I realize now, I used to take showering for granted.  I didn't have any children, I worked full time, did whatever I wanted with the rest of my time...showering was just a necessary evil.  Get in, wash, shave, get out.  Getting it over with so I could continue on with my day.  Keeping clean isn't so easy (and is never relaxing) anymore.

After making sure any and all problem areas are safe and secure, the gate at the top of the stairs is closed, there's a huge pile of toys and books for Little Miss to play with, I jump in the shower even though it's not fully heated yet. I find the shot of cold water gives me the boost of energy I'll need to get through the next 10 minutes. Washing my hair is a tough one because I can't still peer through the sliding glass door at what she may be doing; putting books in the toilet, slamming her fingers in the bathroom door, opening the bathroom cabinet (yes, we still need to do some baby proofing) and playing with the light bulb that I didn't know was in there, slamming toys on the bedroom door where her father is sleeping after a hard nights work.

"GRACE!  Look! A loofa!" as I dangle it over the shower like a cat toy. She takes the bait. Phew, distracted for another moment.

Soaping up, I hear no noise coming from the next room where she is playing.  Washing and scrubbing picks up speed.  She shows up back in the bathroom, where I can see her...with a dirty diaper in hand. I can't act upset because she'll run. I toy with the fact of just letting her play with it, after all, she did figure out how to get it out of the diaper genie. If I make sudden movements she will run, if I say "Can I have that?!" she will run, if I ignore her...who knows what she will do. I open the shower door which peaks her curiosity and she inches forward with the prize in hand.  I watch with only one eye open (while the other burns with soap) as she gets just close enough and I reach out to grab it. Success!  I chuck it across the room and into the sink. As I finish washing my face, eyes closed, there is a sudden SLAMMING, CLANGING, CRASHING sound that surrounds me.  I keep on with my washing because I know exactly what is is.  It's the ear shattering sound of her slamming 2 or 3 books against the sliding glass door of the shower.  It's deafening with the echo of the bathroom tile that surrounds me. My stress level is at it's maximum. 

There's nothing relaxing about the steam enveloping my now almost clean body.  No soothing of my sore aching muscles as the hot water pours over me.  All I can think is, "get this over with!". Shaving my legs isn't an option because Grace has started throwing all her toys down the stairs. Smooth legs just isn't worth the cleaning up I'll have to do if I stay in this torture cell. I'm done. Abruptly, I shut down the hot water with no last moment of enjoyment.  Back in the day, I would stand there for a minute, letting the water pour over me....keeping all the heat in for just one more relaxing second. The good ole days when a shower was a chore, not a moment of torment and anxiety.

The water is off, I've just grabbed my towel off the hook and Grace moves in like a ninja.  Before I can stop her, before I can even utter a word, she grabs the shower mat and runs.  I have no idea how she finds no interest in the thing until it's time for me to get out but, like clock work, she sees the shower door open and realizes the mat needs to go.  She's off, into her bedroom, laughing with my last comfort item over her shoulder.  I step onto the freezing cold tile instead of a fluffy, warm rug. I'm exhausted and I still have to get dressed and put makeup on; my chore is only half done. Grace is one smart cookie and she realizes how vulnerable I am when I'm soaking wet and wrapped in a towel.  This is about the time when all her clothes in her dresser come flying out.

.....and my day has only just begun.