Resistance is Futile...

After a particularly trying week, I passed Liam and Ada off to Nialle tonight and told my poor husband I was taking a bath. I barked out my instructions like a drill sergeant so there'd be no chance for interruptions during my long anticipated soak. "Liam needs supper. Give him eggs and toast. Ada's been fed, so if she cries she probably wants to be held. Put her on your shoulder and pat her back, she likes that. Then, put Liam in his pajamas, read him a story and put him to bed. Please."

With that, I turned my back to my family and saw the light of my deliverance coming through the crack under the bathroom door. The light was beckoning me. It promised me sanctuary and a wonderful, sweet haven where responsibilities didn't exist.

Turning the handle and entering the room, I quickly saw my retreat was anything but. The floor was riddled with towels and socks, the baby tub, the curling iron from this morning and soggy toilet paper (don't ask). Dirty tracks from the cat meandered from the tub, along the floor and out the door of the bathroom. The garbage next to the toilet sat overflowing with toilet paper from yesterday when Liam decided he needed to blow his nose and that he was going to do it 'hisself'.

No matter. I was going to pretend none of that existed. The tub was within view and its gleaming porcelain sides called out to me. Hmmm, those sides aren't so gleaming. In fact, this tub is just disgusting. I couldn't pretend away that grime in the tub and I wasn't going to soak in THAT. I hate cleaning the tub, but this bath was going to happen; I WAS going to have a relaxing night. Out of the bathroom I marched, quickly grabbing some cleaning supplies before anyone saw me and thought that I was free game for a barrage of questions, a favour, or a feeding.

There. The tub was clean. The water was running at just the right temperature and I had selected my bath salts and book.

This was going to be my first postpartum bath since Ada's birth and I was really looking forward to it. I dipped a toe in the water. I was thisclose to my destination when the bathroom door swung open wildly and Liam burst in on the scene. "BUMMY!" he gleefully exclaimed as he pointed at my bare rear end.

My weary and pathetic reply was, "Yes, Liam, Mommy has a bum. Now can you please give her some privacy so she can take a bath?"

"OK, Mommy, I shut the door."

"Thanks."

With that Liam shut the door and I sank slowly into the tub, enjoying every bit of the hot water. I reveled in the unadulterated peace. The revelry was short lived as Liam popped his head in and declared, "Mommy, I shut the door!"

Grumble. "Yes, Liam, you did. Now can you please shut it again?"

This time the door stayed shut and I opened my book. My eyes were on the page, but my mind started estimating how much water I had just poured and how much this bath was going to cost me on our next water bill. Had I been to selfish taking this bath? All of a sudden I was wracked with guilt - this extravagance had cost me $0.30. No self respecting girl of dutch heritage would spend that much on herself! After much deliberation, I thought the cost could be excused away as this opportunity to relax would increase the chances of my son reaching his third birthday.

My eyes were still on the pages of the book, but now my ears were tuned to the drama going on outside the bathroom door. Liam was eating supper finally and kept dropping his fork. I could envision the pattern the falling eggs had made on the floor. Will Nialle clean it up or leave it? I'll bet the cat is helping himself to some of those eggs right now. He better not puke them up on the carpet again.

Then Liam was demanding milk. Then he dropped his fork again. Then he was saying he was done his supper. Then he was declaring he actually wanted to keep eating.

Filled was the sippy cup. Picked up was the fork. Off came the bib and off came the tray to the high chair. Back on went the bib and back on went the tray to the highchair.

Ada started to fuss and Nialle picked her up when Liam decided for the final time that he was actually done his supper and wanted to be washed up. Not wanting to put Ada down, Nialle started the bargaining, "Can't you eat just a little more?...Just this much...how about this?" until finally I heard, "EAT IT!" followed promptly by a loud, "NO!"

I'm not ashamed in the least to say that at that point, I was glad Liam was someone else's problem.

I heard various cries and clatters as Nialle and Liam cleaned up the living room for bedtime. In the commotion, I swear I heard someone step on the cat. I wickedly thought: Please don't need me. Please don't need me. Don't make me get out of here! And then a thought even more wicked entered my mind - After Liam goes to bed, I can sneak out and get some knitting done before anyone notices me!

I heard the story read, the song sung and Liam was put to bed.

I emerged from my refuge glancing cautiously around the house. Was HE in bed? Was SHE with her dad? Could I sit on the couch and sneak in some knitting?

Yes...yes...so far it was clear. No...nope...I don't see anyone. I sank into the couch and greedily picked up my knitting needles. Knit, purl, knit, purl.

Was it true? Had I succeeded in not only a bath, but a night of knitting as well? What bliss! What sheer and utter bliss! A woman happy is a woman knitting! A woman happy is a woman with a toddler in bed, a husband holding her babe and a night of solitude ahead of her...

...well, that is the woman HAD a night of peace until she heard a little voice at piercing decibels exclaim:

"I NEED TO USE THE TOI-LER!"


Dang it.