It’s been five days since my last shower.

I’ve been looking forward to this well-timed event for a while. I had to sacrifice a sleep slot to make this happen, and leave several bottles of milk with my husband, but it’s been a long time coming. The bathroom is one of the only places I can go without the baby: no baby strapped to me, or on my lap, or thrown over my shoulder. I can have baby-free thoughts!

Crap. I think I hear the baby crying.

Or it could be the hot water coming through the pipes.

 

I know, I should sing in the shower. Something fun from the 80s.

Why do I find myself belting out the theme song to ‘Sofia the First?’ I hate ‘Sofia the First.’

Damn, that song is catchy.

 

Ooh I can see my feet again. Hello, feet. Ugh, hello stomach. You have the texture of a deflated balloon, and have so many stretch marks you resemble a traffic map (with delays on the I-95).

Stomach, I will hide you with soap.

Ah, my citrus body wash! You made me want to vomit while I was pregnant, but now I use you liberally. You smell like Tropicana, and I suspect you have the cleaning power of it as well.

The baby sounds like she’s crying again.

Or it could also be a cat dying in the alleyway outside my bathroom window.

Please be a dying cat.

 

Oh look, I have purple marker on my arm.  When did I use purple marker?

I blame the baby.

Wait, it’s not marker; it’s a bruise.  When did I get bruised?

I blame the baby.

 

A shower is the perfect place to contemplate life’s enigmas. Like, what to eat for dinner. Or if iTunes has the soundtrack to ‘Sofia the First.’   Or when was the last time I cleaned this bathroom? I’m pretty sure I’m the cleanest thing in here, and I haven’t bathed in days.

 

That really does sound like a baby crying.

Or a firetruck. I hope it’s a firetruck.

I shall sing louder to drown out the firetruck.

 

Time to shampoo the baby body fluids out of my hair. And then wash the baby body fluids off my hands. And…

And…

And…

 

Huh, I seem to have fallen asleep standing up in the shower.

 

Okay, my skin is shriveling up. I suppose I must come out and face my responsibilities.

 

Is that baby still crying?

 

Whoops, I ‘accidentally’ got eyeliner all over my hand.

And feet.

Eyeliner EVERYWHERE.

 

Back in the shower for me!