Shhh, Shhh, Shower…


I thought I had showering sorted. I finally thought, 16 months after birthing The Boy I had eventually got to grips with the process of showering, while also parenting the 4yr old drama queen and the tiny destroyer. 

The approach involves confining them both in The Boy’s room (the least hazardous room in the house), locking the child gate, leaving the bathroom door open and speed washing. 

Now, on this particular day – The Deputy, (my friendly but very over involved retired neighbour) rang the door bell. The kids are restrained, I have negotiated the terms of The Girl’s release, I’m naked and literally stepping into my hot running shower. So I ignore it . 

The first time. 

The second time. 

And on the third time it crosses my mind that maybe he isn’t disturbing me to offer me vegetables (he intentionally grows an excess of lettuce so that he can constantly disturb the entire street to share his produce). So I do a naked dash to my bedroom window and spot The Deputy’s wife watering her back garden, and decide that there is no medical emergency and my shower is back on. 

Just as I get myself into the shower and dare to breathe a quick deep relaxing breath. Then the shrieking begins. 

“Mummy!!”  

I ignore it. Just 1 more minute. 

“Mummy!!”

Deep breath. Just one more minute.

“Mummy!!” And she is in there in the bathroom. Right there, just one minute in to my shower. 

Now, The Girl is 4 years old. We have negotiated this, every non work day, for the past few months. She knows the rules. She does not leave the bedroom for fear that The Boy will immediately make a run for the stairs through the, then open, gate and I will have to do a mad mid shower gallop to grab him. 

So I’m not that happy right now. 

“Mummy!!” 

“Right…” and I’m ready to give her some stern words. 

So I turn to look at her. Obviously if I’m going to tell her off I’m going to be an A+ mummy and make eye contact with her……but then I notice something on her face. A big brown streak across her forehead and down her cheek. 

“Erm, What is that on your face?” 

“I thought it was peanut butter Mummy but it came out his nappy when he crawled over my head….Mummy I think it’s… POO!!!” 

There we are. All I wanted was 5 minutes in the shower. 5 minutes alone (admittedly with the door open and my ears on).  

Instead, I got 2 mins of doorbell ringing (it turns out because The Deputy needed to tell me the window cleaner was here-like I wouldn’t have noticed myself), 1 min of shrieking and the grand finale of my daughter having a faeces face mask courtesy of her little brother. 

Yep I got this down. 

Back to the dry shampoo. 

Author: motherinthehouse

I am Helen, although more commonly known as “Mum" or "Doc". I have a couple of other roles along side of this. - I’m a a wife, to another junior doctor (yawn) - who specialises in willies and wee. - A daughter to a Yorkshire man and a Scottish lady, an undeniably great combo resulting an ability to be super frugal drunk. - A sister to two older brothers therefore the victim of years of 'character building' experiences. - A northerner who travelled down to the midlands for uni and never quite made it back. Yet. - A friend, to some, for over 25 years, and still can’t shake them off; at this stage they know too much. - An aunty to two boisterous nephews residing stateside, and a local niece. - A daughter- and sister-in-law; having lacked sisters growing up I'm now lucky enough to have acquired 4. - A neighbour to The Deputy, The General and their wives, amongst other retirees. - A slimmer and a swimmer, albeit neither particularly successfully just now. - A gardener, chef, cleaner, washing machine operator, carrier bag collector, and now after much persuasion (borderline bullying) and a 30 quid investment, a keen blogger!

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