As a busy parent, I often find myself amazed—and somewhat intrigued—by the level of dirt and disarray I allow to linger on my body and hair before stepping into public view. More often than not, I’m dressed in the same clothes I wore to bed, remnants of the day before clinging to me like a second skin.
It wasn’t always this way; I used to relish the simple pleasures of a daily shower and fresh attire. I can distinctly recall the moment my personal grooming routine took a nosedive: the day I became a parent. Parenthood has a way of shifting priorities.
Now that my children are ages 4 and 6, I can admit that my hygiene has slightly improved. However, my shower routine has become quite basic: hop in, wash the essential areas, and scrub away the grease from my hair.
As for shaving anything above the knee? Not going to happen. And any grooming of my intimate areas? Forget it.
I have instituted a rule in my household: I am reclaiming my shower time at least once a week. Henceforth, during my “Saturday Shower,” I declare that unless there is an emergency, no one is permitted to enter my sacred space.
Every Saturday, my ritual begins with a firm announcement to my little ones and their father: “Family,” I say, “Mommy is going to shower. No one is allowed in the bathroom during this time. Stay on this floor with your father. Better yet, don’t leave this level of the house, alright?”
They nod in agreement, and I throw a serious glance at my husband to reinforce the message. This look clearly conveys “Keep them out of the bathroom until I return, or face my wrath.”
And off I go! I feel a surge of excitement as I dash upstairs for my Saturday Shower. Entering the bathroom, I crank up the Billy Joel station on Pandora and belt out my favorite tunes.
“A bottle of white…”
“A bottle of red…”
Perhaps a bottle of rosé, Billy!
I turn the water up to a near-scalding temperature to wash away the accumulated grime of motherhood. I survey the array of shower products that have languished in neglect, gathering soap scum over the week. With a wink at my pink body scrubs, floral-scented shower gels, and fluffy loofahs, I greet them like old friends.
This is the Saturday Shower, and I intend to use every last one of these products. In fact, I’ll wash, rinse, and repeat with the shampoo and conditioner.
I cast a glance over my shoulder at the collection of lotions and makeup I plan to indulge in after this much-anticipated shower. Once I’ve soaked away the week’s stress and used every drop of hot water, I will emerge refreshed and ready to polish my appearance. Ideally, when I descend the stairs afterward, I want to hear an upbeat song playing, perhaps “Pretty Woman” or that classic from Sixteen Candles.
However, my peaceful Saturday Shower bubble is soon burst when one of my children barges in.
“Hey, Mommy!”
“Hey, buddy, what are you doing here? Where’s your dad?”
“I dunno.”
“Well, Mommy is taking a shower, so… privacy please…”
“I’m just gonna go potty.”
“We have three other bathrooms in the house. Why don’t you use one of those? Where’s your dad?”
“Nope, I’ll just use this one.”
Before I can usher him out, he drops his pants. When he fails to lift the seat, I realize what kind of “business” he intends to conduct.
I try to ignore him, continuing to sing and hoping he’ll finish quickly. But soon, the air is no longer filled with the sweet scent of vanilla sugar body scrub; instead, it’s overpowered by the unmistakable odor of my child.
I wrinkle my nose at the unpleasant smell and let out a yelp when he flushes the toilet, leaving me in a cloud of unpleasantness.
In defeat, I watch as he swipes my phone from the counter, switches off my music, and exits the bathroom, engrossed in a game.
Feeling lightheaded from the stench and deprived of my musical backdrop, my Saturday Shower has turned into a complete disappointment.
Indeed, my children manage to disrupt many aspects of my life: my Saturday Shower, my flat stomach, and even my ability to ascend stairs without an accident. While I can’t fix most of these challenges, I can lock the door next Saturday and run the dishwasher and washing machine as soon as my husband steps into the shower on Monday morning.
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In summary, while the quest for personal time may be fraught with interruptions from children, it remains crucial for well-being. Embracing little moments of solitude can make a significant difference in the daily chaos of parenting.
Keyphrase: Showering in Peace
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