I have an overbooked day tomorrow. I'll need my ducks in a row in the morning, so I did some preparing this evening for tomorrow's departure. Unlike me, this planning, I know.
Tonight at 8:30 (30 minutes before boys' bedtime) I thought I'd sneak in a quick bath. Owen playing Wii and Finn sitting always no more than 8 inches from me, "I wanna be near you!" I hear constantly.
I love a hot bath. Feeling enveloped by water that's so hot it makes your legs numb, it's just wonderful. But 5 year-old Finn sat on the toilet next to the tub howling because he wanted to be closer to me. I'd told him very early in my bath that I'd peed in the tub in order to discourage his entry. Discourage him, it did, but he was whining disappointed remarks to me about not being near enough and hoping that I was joking about the pee.
While I sat in the tub listening to this chatter, 6 year-old Owen announced that he was making himself some cinnamon toast. This where Control Freak Monica--who doesn't let her kids do things themselves for fear of a big mess--started to panic a bit. I told myself aloud to let Owen go for the toast. I knew he could get the bread out and pop it in the toaster. I knew he'd get sidetracked and let the toast get cold before buttering it. So the Calm Monica sat in the tub shouting over the muttering and disappointed Finn instructions for Owen to get the butter and the knife out and ready for the toast.
Owen followed the directions, but he got out a NEW butter, which required a foil removal I wasn't too sure he was capable of. He was successful, however, but he trotted triumphantly into the bathroom to show me the "bellybutton" of the butter in the new container. I heard the toast pop and admired the butter navel and told him to rush out and get the butter on the toast while it was still warm. Butter not melted is just not acceptable on a proper piece of cinnamon toast.
By now, Finn followed his brother to the kitchen and announced that he was going to pour himself a glass of milk. Big, heavy glass containers of milk is what I buy and the lids don't come off easily. I hollered, "Hang on, I'll come and help you Finn," as I rinsed the conditioner and let the still steamy water down the drain.
While I dried off, I heard Finn call "Mom!?" about seventy-three times and wondered what came over me to so selfishly bathe at a time like this. I rushed to the kitchen with water still dripping from my hair and a towel loosely pinned around my body. As I arrived, I watched Owen dump a mountain of cinnamon sugar on his toast. My fault, I left the cinnamon sugar shaker in South Dakota and have been carefully using a cup. I'm actually quite good at evenly sprinkling cinnamon sugar from a cup onto the toast. Anyway, I quickly fixed the situation and even saved some of the mountain by tossing it back in to the cup.
They then complained that I was in the kitchen naked and Finn, milk glass happily filled, ordered me to go put on my pajamas.
* Hire nanny with big stick
* Never again selfishly wash at a time when snacks might be needed
* Locate new cinnamon sugar shaker