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Bath-time Anonymous

I dread bath-time.

There.

I’ve said it.

Now it’s done.

One deep breath;

It rolled

Right off my tongue.

I feel so guilty.

For not seeing

How it’s fun?

Now I’ve confessed

Tell me;

Am I the only one?

 

I simply cannot see the joy

In usual sibling clowning

Ramped up another notch

By the prospect of a drowning.

I sit right by the tub

Always tense, always alert;

As another one slips under

And I worry that they’re hurt.

Of course they spring up laughing

(After spluttering at first);

I sit and wring my hands

Can this get any worse?

I try to share the pleasures

Of my soggy little treasures,

But my displeasure is emphatic

At another round of acrobatics.

Instead I sit astounded

How long until this passes?

As another clap of bubbles

Lands squarely on my glasses.

 

When it’s finished I feel glad!

I feel sunshine and relief!

That once again it’s over,

Until tomorrow’s brings more grief!

Phew!

I’ve confessed.

It’s been bothering me for a while; I see so many other blog posts and instagram tiles and Facebook photos etc etc of other mums celebrating bath-time and how great it is, but for me it is the part of my day that fills me with dread. It’s up there with potty-training.

Just those words: Bath. Time.

They make me want to run for the hills.

And I feel so guilty because I know I should be enjoying it but I fail to see how a 1 year old and a 2 year old battling it out in water, while you get soaking wet and turn into Shouty Mum, will ever be fun.

So I have posted my poem, in case there’s other mums feeling like bath-time failures too – I am with you!

Perhaps we can form a bath-time support group.

Bath-time.

Gulp.

How is it for you?

 

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3 Comments

  1. You’re normal!! My particular bete noire was the playground. Long stints pushing them on swings, heart-in-mouth moments when bigger children appeared to be intent on killing my children with play equipment – boring and stressful!

    • thebrightnessofthesedays thebrightnessofthesedays

      Oh I like that! A bête noire; makes me sound brooding and mysterious than a grumpy old fish wife! I quite like the playground, as long as at least one of them is physically restrained in either the push-chair or on the swings! Both roaming together is heart in throat stuff!

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