Bad Follow-Through or How My Kids Helped Me Quit

Yes, folks, I’m at it again.  I just liked it so much the last time I had to go back for more!

For the second week, I am participating in:

Since I do have kids and I haven’t blogged them enough recently I think it would only be appropriate to do so now.  The prompt I’m picking this week is:

Prompt #3:  “How long until you realized you had no talent or patience for this? Tell the story (true or fiction) of trying to learn a new talent or hobby that you only pursued briefly.”

Now, you’re probably wondering how this directly relates to my children.  Well read on, my friends! Read on! (this is too good to be fiction)

Way back in the day, there was something I did on a regular basis.  I’ve recently tried to take it up again.  Like everything else I’ve tried to habituate, it ends up getting lost in the shuffle of day to day life and I do it less and less frequently until at some point, my good intentions turn out to be only that.  Intentions.  I am not necessarily the type to just give up on a good challenge, but I think the challenges kind of give up on me.  This thing I used to do fairly frequently?

I’m talking about taking a good old-fashioned shower.  You know, that ritual that most of the population strives to take part in on a daily basis, with the soap and shampoo and what not.  If you are reading this and you are a mother, surely you can relate.  If your thinking I’m all nasty and you don’t want to come to my birthday party anymore, then sorry boutcha.  Hey!  There’s always next year, right?

A while back I decided that no matter what happened I was going to make a point of taking a shower EVERY DAY.  I’m pretty sure it lasted about 12 days, max.  I think that this bathing triumph in and of itself was one of my greatest personal achievements.  Sad, right? Well, during that period of time, I became aware of the exact reasoning behind my usual stench and lackadaisical hygiene practices.

Would I call showering a hobby or a talent?  Certainly not.  Have I realized I have no talent or patience for this?  You can bet your ass.  I’ve spoken here before on the lack of talent.   I now intend to delve deeper into why I have no patience where showering is concerned.

If I try to wake up before the kids rise, I’m in the shower at 6:00am, which to me is unacceptable.  I would honestly rather smell.  Let me tell you, my children would enthusiastically agree.  If I have to get up at 6 for anything other than a near death experience, well, let’s just say they’ve figured out that Mommy is NOT so much a “morning person.”

If I attempt a shower while any of the children are conscious, I can expect to:

1.) share the shower with one or more fully clothed toddlers poking me inappropriately and asking questions I don’t want to answer,

2.) rush through said shower because someone is screaming like the annoying heroine in a horror movie,

3.) worry myself into a frenzy that some predator has broken into my house and escaped with my children, and I give up about half way through because I can’t stand the suspense,

and/or

4.) best case scenario: I come out of the shower to find the kids have survived, and there is no bloodshed or broken bones, but I am missing baseboards and have a sudden need for a drywall repair kit.

If I try to take a shower while the hubs is home…nevermind. I can pretty much just stop before the sentiment even crosses my mind on that one.  I mean there’s dinner and children and bedtime stuff to tend to.

By the time all that craziness is said and done, if for some ungodly reason I were to attempt a shower I could expect:

1.) best case scenario: because I am being all sneaky and quiet, the sleeping bloodhound children are awakened by the smell of my fear, and one by one come piling out of their bedroom to ask me if I’m taking a shower.  Naw dude…I’m drag racing!

and/or

2.) due to complete and utter exhaustion, I would pass out in the bathroom and either drown or bash my head in upon the porcelain throne on the way down and die in all my nasty nekkid glory.  The paramedics would get a kick out of that shit, now wouldn’t they?

If anybody around me has a problem with my b.o. or man-hairy legs?  They can just friggin deal with it.  I’ll get around to it, but in the meantime, count me out on the errands and such.  Don’t want to emotionally scar people you know.  Think of the children!

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