A Fire and a Bath

This started as a Facebook status update and morphed into something that little box couldn't handle. I wanted to ask how often my friends get jealous of their kids, but I just kept typing. I knew that sometimes things just start falling out of my mouth, emotions and thoughts and ideas. I guess my fingers do the same thing.

As I was drawing my daughter's bath tonight, running my hand under the warm water waiting for the numbers to hit the right spot on her little frog water temperature toy, I sighed thinking how wonderful it would be to take a long, hot bath with candles and music and bubbles. Oh, but then who would prepare my oldest son's costume for Egyptian market day and make lunches and finish homework (we spent our morning finishing a project for my husband) and pack back packs and lay clothes out and work on more things for the big event coming up. I sighed again. At the moment, she was whining and fussing. She didn't get a nap today, and I was running late for bedtime as usual. She cried my name over and over, not the one my mother gave me, but the one I share with millions of other women struggling through the same divinely given job, Mom. I started to get agitated and sad and more sighs came out as I undressed her and put her in the tub. Then, she started to play. There's an old saying, something about when your kids get cranky put them in water. I thought about that. Than I turned on the fire (have I told you I have an enclosed gas fireplace in my bathroom, I know, heavenly) and warmed myself as I took in her sweet-mess, I mean sweetness.

I was still READY for bedtime, and I would still like to take a long hot bath. However, I was kinda proud of myself for taking in the moment and not adding to my list of whining (see previous post) the fact that the only ones who really get to enjoy my giant jetted tub are my kids.

Now off to the rest of my busy night.