Let's Take a Bath

My son gets filthy easily. He collects dirt and grime in places I didn't know were possible from things I didn't know you could get dirty from. He is a typical boy so he loves to play outside and pick up dirt and sticks and of course the occasional bug here and there, but he will get dirty just playing Legos or trucks inside. My wife and I are not the “sanitize the shopping cart before you put a child in it” kind of parents. We both grew up in big families where if you didn't eat the cookie that fell on the floor, you were not getting a cookie. We both survived childhood just fine. At the same time, we don’t want to be the parents of the smelly kid. Bath time is a must. Fortunately, we have a good bath taker. As soon as I say the words, “Let’s take a bath”, his eyes light up and he runs to the guest bathroom.

Confession: I am a little OCD. By that I mean, for me, there is a right and a wrong way of doing almost everything. My morning routine is ridged. So strict in fact, if I try to sleep in even a few minutes or skip my shower (I’m talking Saturdays here. Don’t judge me) my entire day is thrown off and I get sick to my stomach and feel physically terrible all day. Needless to say, I handle bath time in the same way.

Since day one (or more correctly day 3) I have walked him through his bath routines step by step. I talk him through everything. Getting adjusted to the water temperature, what parts of his body we are scrubbing, and of course, the best way to splash around and make bubbles. Now that he is 1 ½, the routine begins before we even get in the water.

When bath time is announced, we both go to the door of the bathroom and he waits for me to turn on the light. Once illuminated, the bathroom becomes our new play place. While I move the shower curtain out of the way and get the water and bubbles going, his job is to pick what toys he wants in with him. We have a small shower caddy with the bath toys and he will pick them out one by one. In no particular order, the boat, the guy, the fish, the whale, the blue cup, the baby frog, the daddy frog, and the toot-toot. And they will eventually all go in, but he will pull one out, try to say its name, and throw it into the roaring water.

Once the water is started and the toys are in, we have just enough time while we wait for the bath to fill up, for us to go get ready. He runs over to his room, and waits for me at his changing table so we can take his clothes off. Once ready to go, I pick him up around his chest facing me. Why do I carry him like that? Because “mommy likes the booty”. My wife will hide on either side of his door and surprise him with butt pinches as we walk across the hall back to the bath. It is one of his favorite parts and he squeals and laughs and kicks his little chubby legs as fast as he can every time. I have no intention of changing that portion of our routine anytime soon.

I set him in the water and he begins to talk to his toys placing “the guy” on “the boat” and making car noises as he moves it through the piles of bubbles. As I pour water on his head and back he cringes to adjust to the warmth. I lather his head and start washing him talking him through each part. Neck and ears first and then it’s ears, shoulders, arms, hands, back, belly, legs, and toes. He keeps playing and I sit back and watch him. He is so big. I know when other people look at him they see a tiny child, but I see a big boy, learning and growing everyday. I saw him the very second he entered this world, helpless and unsure, needing constant soothing and care. Now he plays on his own in the water. I am needed less and less as a comfort as he becomes steadily more independent. It is at this moment he again surprises me.

He turn his head to look over at me, knowing I would be watching him. He grins, seeing his assumptions were correct, and scoots closer to the tub wall where I am kneeling. He puts down “the baby frog”, cocks his head to the side, and reaches for me. Not to pick him up or to convince me to play. He grabs my finger tightly as though he were tiny once again and doing it for the first time. Then he slowly caresses my hand, turning it over to check the other side. Satisfied, he looks at the other hand and touches my ring. He wiggles it back and forth to see it shine in the light. He laughs out loud, smiles again at me, and goes back to splashing, making as much noise doing so as he can.

Water is everywhere. The bath mat I am kneeling on is soaked and the shirt I am wearing looks like I just got back from the gym on a cardio day. The towel I have on the floor next to me is no longer able to dry anything. I should get a new one while he is distracted, but I wait. I honestly do not want to miss a second of the fun. We play with the frogs and we pass the blue cup back and forth making funny noises into it. A few more minutes and bath time is over. We start to drain the water and he hands me one toy at a time to put back into the caddy. I grab a second dry towel and wrap it around him as I scoop him up in my arms. He giggles and makes noises with his tongue as I dry him off.

Before we leave to go put pajamas on and begin our get-ready-for-bed routine, we make funny faces at the mirror. Looking at the reflection, I see a happy boy making silly faces, laughing with his best friend… his son.

Tiny Moment

It really is too early. The sun is not up yet. The birds are not even awake. After forcing myself out of bed and into the shower, struggling each step of the way, I am finally ready to begin. I may have already walked around a while and gone through the motions of what little it takes to get a man dressed in the morning, but only now am I slowly waking up. The only sound I can hear is the baby monitor echoing the music from my son’s sound machine throughout the living room. The same lullaby on repeat at a soft volume interrupted only occasionally by a cough or a heavy sigh and even sometimes, the tiniest and cutest of snores.

I put my shoes on and fill my pockets with the days supplies; wallet, keys, phone, note to myself to email that guy later today. Check.

My son has been growing so much lately. They say time flies by and before you know it they are grown up and have children of their own. It is completely true. They really do grow up fast, but in the morning, I still get to enjoy him as a little one in a few small ways. He still drinks milk for breakfast with me and so I make him a cup and I pick up some toys left out from before.

Then I hear it. The small squeak of his crib in the monitor as he starts shuffling himself awake. He hears me moving around in our tiny apartment. He can hear when I turn the water on for my shower and the fridge door opening when I reach for the milk. All of these noises must be a comfort to him since he wakes up so quietly. He will coo to himself quietly and wiggle in his bed until I come in to get him.

This part has become my favorite of our morning routine in the last several months. As I slowly open the door and let the light from the other room peek into his, I see only his short silhouette sitting up in the corner. He has his blanket wrapped all around himself. He gets that from his mother. He looks up at me and smiles at me with eyes not quite opened. I whisper to him “good morning”. He sighs heavily with a grin still fixed between those two chipmunk cheeks.

I lean over the railing and scoop him up under his arms and his blanket comes along. He leans back from my chest to double check that it’s me. He smiles once more but then the smile goes flat and I think we may have a noisy morning ahead of us. As his smile fades, his head droops and our foreheads softly meet. He sighs heavily again and turns his head to rest it on my shoulder. He is tired but not sleeping. Awake but not eager to leave my arms. His music plays on and the hall light is still dim all around us.

He just breathes. I rub his back. We sway slowly side to side as the lullaby serenades us repetitively. He snuggles into me pulling my shoulder closer to himself. I squeeze him gently as not to disrupt this rare minute of pure cuddling. For several minutes we stand there, him in my arms feeling safe and resting and me not too sure what is happening or why. Thought start racing in my head; “we are going to be late”, “I hope he isn’t sick”, “don’t stop rubbing his back or else he’ll start moving again”. And then the moment sinks in and I am at peace. It doesn’t matter if we are a few minutes late. Enjoy him. Love him. Make sure he feels like there is nothing else in the world that matters, and in this one second in time, nothing else does. I stop rocking him and hold my hand still on the middle of his back and feel his little heartbeat. The same heartbeat that two years ago changed my world forever now is what fills my heart with love and peace.

I softly squeeze him again and he sits up, smiles at me, and rests his forehead on mine. Still smiling at one another, we stand there for a moment more before he turns his cheek and presses it to my lips. I kiss him as he takes another big breath and settles back again into my arms.

I lay him down and change him. We walk to the kitchen and he drinks his milk. We get his bag ready together and head out to the car. As I carry him to the car he rests his head on my shoulder once more and laughs, sits up again and smiles revealing all eight or so teeth.

Today was much like every other day. We did all the same things we normally do. Tomorrow will be another. But today I was ten minutes late for work and I do not at all feel sorry about that.