Bath Time

There are certain chores of motherhood that I don't mind like laundry, cooking and crafts. There are other chores that I hate and have hated from the beginning. The worst? Giving my children a bath.

I'm not sure exactly why this aspect of care is so unappealing to me. It might be because RocketMan used to scream bloody murder the ENTIRE time you bathed him. We're talking top of the lungs, beet-red-screaming-agony. He has Sensory Integration Dysfunction and did not like having drops of water touch his skin. The feeling of fingers rubbing his head with shampoo sent him over the edge.

When my kids were little my Aunt Betty would come over once a week and give all three babies a bath. She was such a blessing. We used to call her "The Bath Lady" and I'd shout with joy every Tuesday when she arrived at my doorstep.

She could focus on one little body at a time and she would coo over them while she was soaping them up. When she left I would nuzzle their little heads, drink in the Johnson & Johnson scent of cleanliness and say a little prayer of thanksgiving that I wasn't the one who had to scrub them clean.

She bathed them for the first two years of life. I am forever grateful that she did that for me and now I'm just as glad that they can finally wash themselves. That is, until BirdMan's broken foot incident. Now I have to somehow saran wrap his leg and hang it out of the tub to keep it dry while I get to his curly locks without breaking my own back.

It would be so much easier to do it the redneck way. Just throw them outside during a rain storm and don't let them in until they are soaked!

That's the picture you see of my three in the rain, washing the redneck way, before BirdMan broke his foot. When I suggested that they go outside in the rain and get drenched, they looked at me like I'd finally lost my mind. They kept saying, "Are you crazy? You want us to go out in the rain?", and then their eyes started to twinkle, "We can? Really? Pinkie promise?"


They decided to get on their bathing suits on and their goggles. Then they danced in the rain and splashed in the mud. They were remarkably clean when they came back inside and I think a few memories were made as well.

Redneck bath time? Check!