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My coworkers are unanimously amazed that I take a bubble bath every night.
I mentioned it one day months ago, and I still hear them talking about it. One was wondering what she might give me for my birthday. “Well, she takes a bath every night, you know,” said another. “Oh, that’s right!” the first one answered excitedly, probably having visions of exotic bath products.
Also, the other day, I heard one comment, “I can’t believe Kim shaves her legs every night.” “What?!” said a second one. “Who does?” and when she was told it was me, she stared at me, incredulously. “Every night? There’s no way.”
I am surprised that they find it so amazing. I suspect they imagine me in a garden tub with candles and a flute of champagne, when really my bath is simply a part of my routine, no different than brushing my teeth. I fill the tub, toss in some bubble bath, and get in. If I’m reading an actual book I might take it into the bathroom with me and read a few pages while I soak. (One of the disadvantages of Kindle is that I’m afraid to read it in the tub in case I might drop it, so I read in the tub less often now.) Even including shaving, the whole process probably takes fifteen minutes—maybe a little longer if it’s a chilly night and the hot water is feeling especially good to my muscles. I like to go to bed clean in consideration of my husband, but also I simply enjoy my bath. I’ve taken them for as long as I can remember.
When I’ve asked my friends why it shocks them so, they’ll generally say, “How do you have time? Who has time for that every night?” I just cock my head and look at them, puzzled. I once read a book called Open House, by Elizabeth Berg. The narrator expresses curiosity about the lives of her neighbors, and wishes she could somehow magically crack open the roofs of their houses to peer inside and check out their lives. I think of that when my friends say they don’t have time for a bath. Granted, they simply might not care to take one, but to not have time? I wonder what it is they’re doing at 9 or 10 PM.
They’re not working. Cooking and cleaning seem unlikely at that hour. A few of them may be doing their college homework. But mostly I would guess they are shopping, doing errands they didn’t get to over the weekend, or coming home late from some sort of kids’ or church activity. See, this is why my children never did a great deal of extracurricular stuff. This is why I myself am not a “joiner,” and am probably gossiped about for my continuous absence at “ladies’ craft night” and various other activities at my church. My husband and I –both of us, and I’m very glad to be united in this matter—simply demand some “down time,” and will consider no other way of life. We work, we maintain an orderly home, stocked with groceries and clean laundry, we go to church on Sundays, and THEN—we expect some rest and relaxation. Period.
When our son was younger, a buddy of his joined a Little League team. The two kids were in after-school care together, so we would run into his parents and speak to them most days. It seemed that this ball team had practice virtually every night of the week, and then games on Saturdays. I was more amazed by this than my friends are about my bath! Every night of the week? Seriously? And then to have the family’s whole Saturday dominated by the preparation for the game, the traveling to it and the playing of it? Thankfully our son was never interested in this kind of thing. But it seems to me that children are usually pushed into such activities by their parents when they’re barely past the potty-training stage. They’re too young to even know what baseball and gymnastics are, much less ask to participate. So parents, I have to wonder, why do you take on so much? Why do you over-schedule yourself and your family so?
(Image by Stockphotos, courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net)
My son usually gets home from school just a few minutes before I get home from work. Once I change clothes, sometimes I plop down in his room to visit, or sometimes he comes to mine. We talk about whatever presents itself. One day last week, I told him the whole story of the day he was born. On another day, I asked him what he was reading in his English class and we discussed that. Eventually he’ll say he’s hungry and I might go ahead and fix him something to eat if he can’t hold out until dinnertime. But the point is, nobody’s in a hurry. Nobody’s nagging anybody to get ready to go somewhere. No major tasks are hanging over my head because we routinely take care of shopping and cleaning. It’s 5 o’clock, and we’re pretty tired, but it’s okay because our day is mostly done. I care for the pets, tidy things up and look around the kitchen to see what I might fix for dinner, which I assure you is nothing complicated. Usually I light the candles in the living room, and then we’re just hanging out, waiting for Daddy to come home and join us. Our family is in for the night.
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