Some would say becoming a parent is the most precious gift ever, and indeed it is, but it comes at a cost to your body shape, vagina, sanity and privacy!
Today I showered. I made that sound like a one off experience so I feel I should clarify that I do actually shower everyday.
However, whilst I was in my glass house, warm water cascading over me and the door to the vault aka the Ensuite was unlocked but closed. I still managed to hold four conversations and end a war whilst soaping up my loofah. I am now entirely convinced I have parliamentary qualities and I’m considering running for prime minister and taking hold of Brexit by the balls!
My kids have a inbuilt honing device that kicks in when I’m on the phone, in the shower or having a shite! It cares less for neither option the interruption levels are the same. The line of questioning is often ruthless and unashamedly brutal! Demanding an answer for each question, and continually repeating the question until I answer …
Mummy are you doing a number one or number two…. Mummy are you doing a number one or number two…. Mummy are you doing a number one or number two…. Mummy are you doing a number one or number two….
In some instances they even answer the question for me… which I find even more humiliating.
“Mummy’s doing a number twoooooooo!!!!!” Expelled from a small child at maximum volume to ensure even the neighbours can hear!
Take this morning for example, I didn’t even tell them I was nipping off to spring clean the lady garden. They were all occupied, the two youngest engrossed in YouTube clips of slime, play doh and of course the eggstravagant kinder egg opening!
The eldest was getting ready whilst pop music was playing out on her portable speaker, and my son was tuned into cyber space which generally means I’ve lost him to a ‘hype’ phenomenon which has him ‘pop locking’ and ‘boneless’ dancing!!! Yep DANCING! The kids got some seriously odd moves. Moves that are ultimately questionable and somewhat annoying when every conversation I have with him results in him having what looks like an epileptic fit in front of me.
All four occupied, a perfect opportunity to have myself a selfish 20 minutes of home pruning!
5 minutes into my shower, I’m lathered up, enjoying the alone time, and I bend down to pick up the razor and there it is, pressed up against the glass is my three year olds crying face, squashed and snotty up against the glass trying to speak of the wrong doing that’s just happened to her. After some ingenious lip reading I think the tears were the result of a change of YouTube channel from slime to Barbies Dream House. Utterly Scandalous …
I calm her down from behind the glass, by using the ‘change of subject technique’, it had worked with all my children at this age. I Just throw in a few excited curve ball questions about a pending birthday or Christmas and all of a sudden the tears have dried up and I’m now listening to a list of gifts she wants for her ‘burfday’ being reeled off like an Argos audio book!
Moments later the wrong doer, comes bounding in with a face like thunder second guessing the situation and is already on the defensive pleading her innocence in the whole debacle ….
“Mummy I only pushed her in the face ONCE, because she tried to snatch the remote control from me”
… well that’s a new revelation…
Esme on cue, starts crying theatrically for a second time for some extra attention as she realises she left out THAT key bit of information. Isla is now looking at me through the steamy glass, shocked and shrieking “I didn’t touch her THIS time, I haven’t done anything, she’s acting!”
Attempting another distraction tactic I ask them both to brush their teeth, the tears stop, and off they trot to the bathroom across the landing. Alone again….. BUT only for a moment as they both come back into my bathroom after collecting their toothbrushes to brush their teeth in the tiniest room of the house with me!!
Toby appears at the door, flossing at an impressive speed and chatting shite to me about his latest conquest on the game he plays.
LillyElla is now behind him asking me what top would look better with her black ripped jeans… mustard or khaki???
Between gritted teeth I mutter ….. mussssstard br quite frankly either would do.
Toby’s floss has evolved into something a little more frantic and he unintentionally wallops Isla in the head, she almost chokes on her toothbrush and turns to shove him, he falls into the door, she looks scared, he looks angry.
LillyElla defends her brothers accidental spaghetti arms and Isla lunges herself at them both like a zombie child with foaming toothpaste at the mouth!
I step out of the shower.
Ranting like a mad woman.
I bend over, to pick up a towel off the floor to at least cover up the wobbly bits whilst I rant and offer them a free lesson on personal space, however the ensuite is no mansion, there are currently five people in it, so it’s almost expected that Esme ended up with my bare arse in her face to which she yelled …..
“Mummy’s bummy in my face!” And proceeds to smack my arse with her tiny hand!
Isla laughs out loud and says “her boobies are almost in Toby’s”
He recoils in disgust making a gagging sound and runs off which I can only assume is to be sick.
I feel perplexed, undignified and somewhat giant sized while squashed in a confined space with my mini army who are now having great fun at my expense pointing out ALL of my flaws.
Have kids they said.
It’s a gift they said.
The gift of life! It’s a wonderful thing.
IT HAS BEEN 12 YEARS SINCE I SHOWERED ALONE.
IT WILL PROBABLY BE 12 MORE UNTIL I GET THE OPPORTUNITY TO DO SO AND THEN MY HUSBAND WILL PROBABLY WANT TO GET IN WITH ME….
I fear I’ll never shower alone again.