Things I Do In The Shower


Here it is. My very first Sunday Confession blog post. I’ve been peer pressured into doing this awesomness by a whole buncha fellow bloggers who just happen to be very groovy chickas. So, truth serum in the style of the written word. Here goes it.
Hi. My name is Tonia and I am the mother of six boys. Ages 1-almost 13. What this means in a nutshell is I live in the midst of controlled chaos (thus the name of my blog.) and I never ever not ever get any time to my self. Ever.

Except when I shower. Late at night. After the housework is finished and they are all thankgodalmighty ASLEEP.
Sure, I can do the power-shower while they are all semi-occupied watching a movie or playing. But what this means is I shave one leg (if Im lucky) and rush my way through the rest while hollering “Quit RUNNING!” or whatever the moment calls for. And every eleven seconds someone has to come in to poop. Because nothing beats the relaxing atmosphere of a nice hot shower with organic lavender soap blended with the lovely aroma of poop. Or the four year old comes in to peer around the shower curtain and chat with me about absolutely nothing.

But a couple nights a week I ignore the fact I am so tired I could literally curl up in a ball on the floor and sleep hardcore and I take full advantage of some heavenly shower time. All. By. Mahself.
And it’s glorious. It’s a vacation right there in my own home. I pull out all my girly homemade organic shower stuff. the lemon body scrub, the brown sugar exfoliators, the coconut oil and baking soda and all that jazz. I run that water so hot it could boil a lobster. And I do absolutly nothing for the first 5 minutes but just BE. Just stand under the steaming water and let it relax all of my muscles. Just breathe deep and not be interrupted.

It’s wonderful.

I do all the typical girl stuff. Wash and shave and such. Until I smell less like a buncha boys (peanut butter and dirt and frogs and sweat and cookies) and more like a flower or someplace tropical. Whatevs.

Then I perform for a bit.
I sing my heart out. Accapella style or to a cd. Whatevs. I rock that stadium….uh, I mean shower. I belt it out top volume. Because I used to dream of being a singer but I had kids instead so I traded in one dream for another and now my performances are for the soap and water. Singing is my therapy. It soothes me, releases tension, relaxes my soul.

Eventually the water gets cool and I turn it off and get out.

And there sits on the bath mat, my chihuahua-pug dog ziggy, who oh-so-helpfully licks the drops of water off of my feet and ankles no matter how many times I tell him that that is WEIRD. And there is always at least 2 cats chilling out on the counter by the sink leering at me in a sorta creepy way, like furry little perverts. And there’s my other dog peering through the crack in the door as if he and I had some crucial appointment I had forgotten about.

So, apparently, I am NEVER truly alone.

That’s life.


3 responses »

  1. I know it’s hard to comprehend right now, but the day will come when you won’t know what to do with yourself. I completely consumed myself into my boys (but I only have 2). And now that they are teens, they don’t always want me around. If you lived close by, I would totally have everyone over for play dates. Keep on keeping on. You are one hell of a mama. Your boys are blessed. ❤

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