Dinner and A Show

This morning I found myself the main act of what would otherwise have been a pretty kinky peep show -- Times Square material for sure (or at least the old Times Square, before Disney and Olive Garden took space) -- except for the fact that the lone member of my audience was my 10-month-old daughter.

Morning nap time had been less than successful, so my opportunity to shower had passed me by. But after being woken up by my neighbor coming home from a night of partying at 3:30 a.m. (on a Thursday) and then again at 4 a.m. by my daughter, whose diaper had leaked, and then up for the day at 6:30, I REALLY needed that shower. 

Leaving her unattended was obviously not an option and neither was just shutting her in the bathroom with me.  She needed to be contained. Strapped down.  So I utilized the only thing that I could think of -- her stroller.  I latched her in, gave her bowl of puffs and wheeled her in front of the shower. There I spent the next 5 minutes bathing with the curtain open, singing songs, doing little dances and spiking my soapy hair to keep her entertained while I recharged under the warm water.

And my daughter? She was less than impressed. She sat with a completely deadpan face, eyes moving over every jiggly, stretch-marked, sagging part of my post-baby and -breastfeeding body, seeming to critique me as she shoved puff after puff into her mouth.  It wasn't great on the old self-esteem.

So there are one of the truths of parenthood.  You gain creativity and loose a little pride.  You will make a shampoo mohawk while singing "I'm gonna wash that man right out of my hair" as your child watches you bath because the payoff of being clean is worth it. And, yes, you probably at some point will have a stroller in your bathroom.