Wednesday, October 17, 2012

The Phantom

I used to love taking showers. Well, I still do.
Ever since Douglas was born I kind of hate them.
Well, I love them. But hate them.

When they're babies, the spit up, poop, and sleepiness makes you wish you could shower every half hour.

When they're toddlers you hope to have 10 minutes to just shave your pits and maybe wash your hair.

But what about when they're old enough to be alone for 15-20 minutes and know that you're in the shower if they need to get you? Can you actually enjoy yourself?

That's a big fat NOPE! [no Call of Duty breaks for me]

I don't think that as a mom I'll ever just be able to not think about them. To just be in the moment. At least not for more than a couple minutes. But it only takes 1 minute to scarf down two slices a slice of walmart cheesecake in your car in the parking lot. I live for those minutes. Even though I don't log enough workout time to counteract them...

Right now Douglas will be 5 in November & Isabella is 2 + a 1/2 and showers suck when they're home. Even if they're sound asleep. EVEN if their daddy is home.

Shower time is when the phantom shows up.

The phantom crying, screaming, crashing.
I know that I'm not the only one who hears it. I've asked around.

When D was a baby I swore he cried as soon as I got in the shower. I'd turn the shower off and everything was quiet. Daddy at work, d sound asleep.

Not just during showers though, any loud activity, vacuuming, blow drying my hair... whatever.
It sucks.

I mean, sometimes when Mathew is home I think that I hear a car full of murderers pulling onto our gravel driveway, coming in and killing everyone. I'll come out of the bathroom in a towel only to be shot in the face. ["I shot Marvin in the face!"- name that movie!]

I know it's morbid.
I try to ignore it.
I have a playlist entitled "squeaky clean" for those rare occasion where I can use up all the hot water because the kids are in bed and Mathew is home. I use that time to practice my lip-sync performances with a shampoo bottle. I'm kind of amazing at it.
If there is no music and sometimes even WITH the music and the dancing and shampoo mohawks there's still that fear.

It's like Dexter's dark passenger. I've wondered if it will ever go away.... I think:

"I'm sure it'll get a little easier once I know that they are adults and I've [hopefully] done an ok job raising them. But when they go to school, are they being picked on? Would they tell me? Are they keeping up with the curriculum? Do they wash their hands? Do the other kids ignore them? They're in the backyard but what if a cow goes crazy and runs through the fence to trample them? Did one of them just fall down the stairs? What about when they start driving.. Oh man... I'm starting to hyperventilate. What about when they decide to go explore the world.. When they're in India, or Turkey, or Bolivia, or Tulsa? Will I hear phantom sounds then? Yup... I need some cheesecake."