These days, my schedule is more demanding than ever, and my sanctuary—the bathroom—has become a shared space. There’s a step stool for my kids to reach the sink and toilet, and the cheerful shower curtain is a far cry from the serene oasis I once envisioned. My opportunities to enjoy a long, hot bubble bath are becoming increasingly rare. When the stars align and I finally get a moment to myself, I seize it without hesitation.
I gather my essentials: a candle, a bath pillow, and a towel—though “clean” might be a stretch since it’s been drying off little bodies post-bath since my last laundry day. A tray rests on the edge of the tub, perfect for propping up my book and holding a glass of wine. I pour generously, ignoring the fill line, and search my bedroom for the book I started eight months ago. It’s got to be here somewhere. Did I leave it in the diaper bag? No, that’s absurd. How could I expect to have the luxury of reading while on an outing?
As I flick on the bathroom light, the harsh fluorescent glow threatens to ruin the mood. I grab a plug-in nightlight from my son’s room instead, and the friendly glow of Spiderman creates a more relaxing atmosphere. Striking a match, I light my candle—the same one I use to mask the fridge odors and to make it seem like I bake when guests come over. The scent is called “Homemade Cookies,” but it could easily be renamed “Vanilla AF.”
Pulling back the shower curtain before I fill the tub, I’m greeted by bath crayon art on the walls and an unclean drain. A hodgepodge of slimy bath toys clutter the space, which I toss into the sink before grabbing the cleaning spray. The fumes are surprisingly soothing, and I give the bathroom a quick spritz before diving into my relaxing ritual.
After scrubbing the tub, I turn on the faucet, only to realize I’m out of bath bombs or salts. Digging through the cabinet, I find a bottle of Paw Patrol bubble bath. I flip Chase upside down, watching the blue liquid create a delightful cloud of foam under the running water. With the sweet scent of tutti-frutti, the calming aroma from the candle, and a hint of cleaning spray, I’m starting to feel a little buzz.
I peel off my tank top from the maternity pile and leggings that have seen better days, tossing them into the hamper. And what do I discover? My book! Of course, my toddler has turned the hamper into a treasure chest of sorts, tossing in anything she finds.
Once I’m ready, I ease into the bath. The water is lukewarm, a reminder that I ran the dishwasher while hunting for my book. But at this point, a little warmth isn’t going to stop me. I can always add more hot water later.
As I sip my chardonnay—warmer than my bath, but still wine—I hear my child burst into the bathroom. “I need to go now!” he declares. Once settled on the toilet, he asks what I’m doing and if he can join me in the bubbles. I explain that this is Mommy’s alone time, and without it, I might turn into a grumpy monster.
“But you’re already really grumpy!” he retorts, prompting me to question my parenting skills. “Wipe me,” he adds, and I can’t help but groan.
Back in the tub, I return to my wine and attempt to dive into my book. After a while, I realize it’s time to replenish the hot water. The bubbles have mostly dissipated, but as I turn on the faucet, new ones form, and I feel my muscles relax with the rising temperature. I take a deep breath, letting the quietness envelop me.
As my eyes grow heavy, I wonder if my husband has finally settled the kids for the night. With the last of the bubbles gone, I release the tub’s drain with my toe. Next time, perhaps a nap would be more rewarding instead.
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In summary, finding moments of peace amidst the chaos of parenting can be challenging, but a bubble bath can be a small but effective escape. Cherish those rare moments of solitude and remember to take care of yourself.