So the other night we were having some "struggles" (understatement alert) with our night time routine. One of those evenings when something inside each child combusted simultaneously, causing each to burst at the seams with angst, tears, and an impressive amount of random movement and noise. It was loud. It was resistant. It was 7pm.
And because I'm such a giver, I "volunteered" to run their bath thus removing myself from the insanity while also probably saving our marriage (Mommy has a hard time using nice words after depleted from the day). Sometimes you have to be proactive (run like hell and close doors behind you) in important relationships. In other words, you have to know when to fold 'em.
As I ran their bath, I closed my eyes and drifted off into an Ally McBeal Fantasy. There I was at Chez Every Child Left Behind Spa and my (hot but not straight- I am tragically faithful) masseuse was moments away from knocking on the door with almond scented oils and hot towel in hand. I could smell his aftershave, the almond oil, and expensive linen. I could feel the warm towel on my back. I could hear Enya. It was glorious and sublime. It was moments from coming to an end so I did the only thing any sane person would do.
I climbed into the tub.
Imagine Abby and Grayson's surprise when they found a (completely covered in bubbles) mommy in their bubble bath.
Something tells me Grayson will be taking showers from this day forward.