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by janeen lewis a ll i wanted was a
shower
. a long, uninterrupted
shower
like the ones i took before i had children who crawl out of the woodwork at the sound of water running in my bathroom. it?s like my kids have internal radars that alert them when i am alone. ?ese radars also prompt them to
get
hurt, want a snack, or start world war iii with each other. it never fails. i know, i know. to have a
shower
of solitude, all i have to do is put in earplugs and lock the bathroom door. ?e
shower
diva, the not-so-perfect angel who sits on my left shoulder, tells me this often. however, safety freak mom, the goody-two-shoes angel who sits on my right shoulder appeals to my naturally guilt-ridden complex with, ?what if your kids need you, and they can?t
get
to you?? nevertheless, one day when i was tired of breaking up quarrels, i decided to
get
a little crazy and shake things up. if this meant locking the kids out of the bathroom, so be it. unfortunately, i didn?t
get
so crazy that i put in earplugs. live and learn. i grabbed my
shower
gel and told seven-year old andrew to watch four-year-old
gracie
, and to knock on the door in case of an emergency. i explained that emergencies involve bleeding or poisoning, not whose turn it is to play a game at nickjr.com or watch a show on netflix kids. ?e first minute in the
shower
was glorious. ?en, i heard a noise. ?e
shower
diva said, ?ignore it.? safety freak mom countered with, ?what if one of them is hurt?? i stayed put. as i got to my favorite part of the
shower
, the part where i lather shampoo into my hair with all the ecstasy of a woman in an herbal essences commercial, i heard a muffled thump and yell. i turned the
shower
off. ?andrew, is something wrong??he answered, but he might as well have been charlie brown?s teacher. i couldn?t understand a word he said, so i stepped out of the
shower
, in every issue / t h e l a s t w o r d
shower
sos every pore of my skin (and ?e
shower
diva) shrieking at the chilly air. i cracked the door. ?andrew, is everything okay?? ?no!? he yelled. ?
gracie
is
get
ting up on the stove!? in every mom?s life, there is a time for nerves of steel. i pray for them daily. ?en, there is a time for unbridled panic. ?is was one of those times. ?
gracie
,
get
down! you might
get
hurt!? visions of red- hot burners and
gracie
?s fair baby skin flashed through my mind. i yanked the towel off the rack and whipped it around me. i ran down the hall, slipping on the hardwood floor while safety freak mom scolded, ?what were you thinking? she?s practically still an infant!? as i slid past the kids? bathroom, i could see out of the corner of my eye, and i skidded to a stop, confused. both children stood in the bathroom, and while yes, i am a multitasker, no, i have not installed a stove in the bathroom. andrew blocked
gracie
from the sink with his whole body. arms outstretched, he shielded her from?gasp!?the soap dispenser. exasperated, he said, ?
gracie
is using all of the soap!? from my heavenly little enclave in the back of the house i?d heard, ?
gracie
is
get
ting up on the stove!? unfazed by the fact that i wore only a towel and a not- so-happy expression, andrew continued pleading his case. ?she got three pumps instead of one!?
gracie
gave me a mischievous grin. i took a very deep breath. i was kind of glad safety freak mom was with me. she gently coaxed, ?step away from the children, and no one
get
s hurt.? as i stood dripping in my towel, i knew the ?stove? versus ?soap? miscommunica- tion would be really funny to me the next day. but that day, as i turned and walked slowly down the hall to
get
dressed, i wondered if i would take an uninterrupted
shower
this decade. i sighed and sent my sos heavenward. ? march 2017 | brparents.com 99
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