It’s a Day

I’ve been trying to decide what today’s narrative should be. Is it a good day with a few bumps along the way? Is it a bad day with a few bright spots?

After a short bit of ruminating, I’ve decided it’s just a day. More specifically, a day with a toddler.

It’s my husband’s birthday. We’re not huge on celebrating them, but I was able to think of something small to do that seemed meaningful, so cool.

After a short shopping trip, Kara and I were just getting settled into some food prep when the Internet guy, who was supposed to come yesterday, showed up. When we told him the problem was with our speed, he said he had to fix something back at the … I don’t know, the headquarters or whatever. So he left.

Then… then Kara decided she wanted to take a bath in my big bath tub, and here’s where the real story starts, I suppose.

First, she needed to bring all of her bath toys. Of course, she can only bring one at a time. So she takes off half of her clothes and starts running back and forth between the two bathrooms, while I start filling up the tub. After about her fifth trip, I figured there was enough water, so I turned it off. When Kara came back with her final toy, she said she heard someone at the door. Guess who? Internet guy is back, so my half-naked child and I go answer the door. I had already done a speed test, so he just came in to check the modem and went again. Kara and I go back to the big bath tub, where she pitches a fit because the water isn’t running, so of course she gets sent to her room.

Finally, we’re calm and able to have the big fun adventure of taking a bubble bath in Mommy’s huge tub, except most of the bubbles are gone. But her toys are still there, so it’s still fun. Once she’s finally settled, I start cleaning the bathroom. I turned around from hanging up a towel just in time to see Kara jumping in the bathtub. Incredibly fortunately, the water was just deep enough to cushion the inevitable fall enough that she didn’t crack the back of her skull open, but not so deep that her face was submerged. I got her out, we cried and snuggled, and she said she wanted to lay down in the big bed. So I went to get her some clothes, and when I got back…

… she was back in the bath tub. Whatever, I think. She’s always been a get-right-back-in-the-saddle kind of girl. So I continue cleaning the bathroom, fielding the “why” questions with a little more grace and patience than I’d had before her near-drowning experience. (And yes, there are stupid questions. When you just almost killed yourself by slipping in the bath tub, it is in fact stupid to ask why someone is drying the floor, why they don’t want to slip, and why they don’t want you to drown.) My newly discovered patience disappeared as quickly as it came when she stood up in the bath again.

“I don’t like it when you yell at me!” she said when I scolded her.

Seeing this experience was going nowhere good, I decided to wash her as quickly as possible, hopefully beating the coming meltdown. I washed her hair, and then she decided that would be the perfect time to try to use a cup of water to rinse the bubbles off my arm, except that, as I was washing her hair, my arms were directly above her face. Can you guess what happened when she upended a cup of water on my arm?

We finally get her out and dry and dressed. We snuggle up in the bed. After laying down for 10 minutes, Kara jumps up and declares, “I’m not sleepy anymore!”

So I did the only thing a mother with fraying sanity could do: I put her in her room and told her to stay in there for an hour, whether she sleeps or not.

Thankfully, she fell asleep.

And my nerves are finally recovering with the help of writing and coffee.

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