I’m averaging one shower every second day. Still. Been going since I came home with the smallest one. Considered going back to the hospital and living there. At least I was getting a shower daily. And nice food cooked for me.
I think its now been three days. The Grumpy One – deluded as he is – considers that my nightly bath with three children as my daily cleansing. “You had a bath last night, what are you talking about?”
The fact that I’m suckled on, have various sized feet inadverently placed in various orifices (not all mine) and barely get more than the backs of my legs wet is beside the point. Apparently.
With only one child at home – the smallest one, who is also a non-sleeper – and my hair so greasy and dirty my halo … I mean, hood from my hoodie, wouldn’t stay on and I’m sure I could be smelt at the local butchers three blocks away, I could wait no longer.
Chippie wouldn’t sleep. I considered putting him in with me, but thought we could manage. I entered the ensuite, arms loaded with brighthly coloured, crunchy, squeaky, rattly things, put the lid of the toilet down and placed all hurty things up high. I did consider nicking to Ikea to grab some flat packs to install some up-high cupboards, 8 feet off the floor, to put the remainder of everything else not glued, nailed or otherwise stuck down, but figured we could survive.
I mean, look at all these brightly coloured, crunchy, squeaky, rattly things littering the floor. Surely that will keep him occupied.
I placed him on the floor, surrounded by age-appropriate toys, turned the shower on and hopped in. I did entertain the thought that, given the water restrictions, as we’re limited to 4 minute showers, and I haven’t showered for 3 days, I could go 12 minutes, but faced reality and thought I’d be lucky to hit the 4 minute mark before I’d be forced to get out.
I stick my head under the shower, closing my eyes and enjoying the feeling of semi-cleanliness. I emerge to find that he has somehow moved to between the toilet and wall, has eaten 7 rolls of toilet paper and unravelled another 3. Tampons are scattered all over the floor and his educational toys are left to entertain themselves.
I quickly scrub my body, hair and face (I was in a hurry), stick head under for another 2.3 seconds and find him attempting to place a shoe in the toilet. Fortunatley, he hasn’t yet worked out his hands can work with each other and couldn’t quite get the coordination happening.
I turn the shower off, leap out, perform a somewhat excruciating side split as my foot misses the bath mat that I’m sure was there only moments earlier, but now appears to be missing entirely, and slides across the floor. Grab child and place him on other side of door.
Plenty of shoes but no toilets that side. At least they’ll be safe.