Bathing is overrated.

I just had a bath.

*Sort of.*

**Well, okay. Not really.**

Daddy was putting the boys down, and I'd just nursed Little Miss D down and I was lying there thinking to myself

When was the last time I took a bath?

I mean a proper bath. Not a bath with a kid. A bath on my own, with my salts and shampoo and razor.

It had been YONKS and YONKS and YONKS.

(I do shower occasionally, folks! I'm not a total skank.)

We don't take bathing lightly in our house. We're on rainwater and in Texas it don't rain all that often. But tonight a hot deep soak with Epsom salts sounded lush.

Before I thought better of it and started doing the dishes, or tidying toys or blogging or reading my Facebook Newsfeed I silently catapulted off the bed and turned on the hot tap in the bathroom full pelt.

By the time Daddy came out I was submerged and blissfully still. My plan was to stay still until the water turned uncomfortably cold.

Not even enough time to crinkle my fingers passed by, before I heard:

"Daddeeeeeeeeee." It was soft at first. But when there was no response the volume increased.

"DADDEEEEEEE."

Aw, shit Daddy. Answer the little punk before he wakes the Baby!

I hold my breath, but there's no response from Daddy.

Then I hear

"DADDEEEEEEEEE!!!!"

Followed by my sheets crinkling, then the Leap Frog music ball (which I'd stupidly left beside Little Missy) starts up.....

"DADDY!" And that's MY voice yelling now, as Baby starts bawling.

Well, fuckety fuck FUCK!!!

I jump out of the bath dripping wet and save for Big Kid and Baby wailing the house is dark and dead quiet. Daddy's disappeared outside to tinker with the plumbing (which in all fairness needed fixing but couldn't he have waited for Momma to finish her first bath of 2013?)

Naked, I'm on the front porch yelling "Daddy TWO kids are up!' It's probably three by now...

Without waiting for an answer I'm already streaking past our big kid (S-boy), sopping wet, telling him sternly to get back into bed, before running back to my room to tap Baby's back some more.

But she's pretty pissed AS. AM. I.

I'm cold and dripping on her and she's not impressed and thankfully I hear Daddy closing the boys' door, so I scoop her up and deposit her in his arms in the hallway. And he tells me to get back in my bath, he'll look after her.

Gee, Thanks Babe.

But the moment's gone. Relaxation ruined. I can't even be arsed to shave. And Baby wants to be back in bed. I can hear her sleep-song. I know she's okay with Daddy. I know she can wait, but I can't.

I pull the plug and towel off just enough to jump back into bed. I resume the 'nursng' position and Daddy lays an almost sleeping baby beside my damp breast. She latches on gratefully and I think about how I need to moisturize my face and put on some deodorant within the next ten minutes before my face cracks and I start smelling like a man again.

                                                                  

It only took five minutes or so for baby to fall back into a deep sleep. After which I snook away to put on my moisturizer and my deodorant and my pink Skinny Moo (the brand - not me) PJs, then I settled down on the bed beside her to write this.

And now I'm much happier.

Bathing is so overrated.