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.
Mother in the House 