Monday, August 23, 2010

The Bath

See, there are lots of things I would write about, lots of things I often think I should write about. But then I remember that boys read my blog. My brother, for one. A few of the guys from my church, for two. And. Well. That's about it. But still.

And I know. That certainly didn't stop me from being all, "Childbirth! Yeah! Two thumbs up."

Side note: Apparently The Rock Star's birth story scares people. Like, they're all, "No kids for me, thanks." Which it is totally not supposed to do. No. It's supposed to have the reverse effect. It's supposed to be like, "Epidural: yes! Tiny baby fingers and toes: a thousand times yes! Ice panties: infinity yes!" Except, actually, the ice panties didn't make an appearance until later that night when the birth story was over but you can obviously see the effect they had on me. Like a good drug those things. Like morphine...

Anyway, so yeah.

There's a whole label here that's specifically around just for things that I shouldn't blog about. Not with church going readers. Not with male readers. Not with church going male readers. There sure are some gems hiding under that qualifier. Passages about bosoms, feces, and the mating habits of crocodiles. And you won't even find anything about puke there because vomit gets its own category.

So I've been thinking about how to tell you about The Best Bath Ever. But how? Because what mommy, in her right mind, would be taking almost an hour long bath, in the middle of the afternoon, on a Monday, without good reason?

So I'm just going to come right out and say it and, you know what, I just don't even care. Alright. That's not true. I do care. I do. Sorry Jon. Sorry Guys From My Church. Sorry Any Other Male Who Might Be Reading. It's just that I had about the worst cramps ever this afternoon. And not, like, a charlie horse. No. Like full on menstrual, terrible, awful, worst ever cramps. Okay, not ever because again with the child birth but boy howdy! They were...unpleasant. In fact, their ferocity was so intense that they were wrapping around and gripping my lower back with horrifically unfortunate sharp, talon-like, evil, fingers. And for a few moments I kind of wanted to die. (See, this is my problem. I can't just say, "Hey, y'all, I had some cramps." Nope. Not me. I'm verbose. Blame my English teachers. Where was I? Oh, right. The dying part.

So thankfully Mondays are The Husband's day off. The Little Buddy went down for a nap and Troy is taking The Rock Star to a minor league baseball game tonight with vouchers that he got for playing t-ball. (The Rock Star, that is. But I'm sure you were able to come up with that on your own.) They'll be out late so Garrett took a nap as well.

And I managed to stop dying long enough to draw a bath--blessedly, the tub had just been cleaned. I lit two candles even though it was broad daylight. When you only take two baths a year ambiance is necessary regardless of the hour. I poured juice into a wine glass. Don't feel sorry for me. Don't think about how pathetic that is. The truth of the matter is that even if I'd had wine in my house I wouldn't touch it because, in a nutshell, "BLECK!" Then I busted open the knock-off brand Oreo cookies that Walmart makes--which, surprisingly, taste a whole lot like the real thing. I dumped a package of Dead Sea Perfumed Bath Salts, straight from Israel, into my very warm water. They frothed and fizzed and turned the water a disturbing shade of blue and I was a little afraid to get in, actually. (It looked like I'd dissolved blue frosting into my bath.) I grabbed my Bible and a copy of Better Homes and Gardens and I climbed in.

Then I died. But in a good way. Not the poisoned tentacles suffocating the center of my body kind of death I was experiencing before. This was more like, "I just became blue Jello and am warm and clean and the sea salts are exfoliating my entire existence right now" kind of dying.

And then, after quite awhile, I got out, declaring that I truly feel the need to schedule another bath in the very near future. Like, it's so important that it just overtook pay the bills and change the baby on my list of things to do.

The cramps are gone, for anyone who is still wondering.


  1. I am thankful your cramps decided to die, and not make you entirely die in the process!! I hate cramps. I wonder what inventions we would have if guys had to endure them a month!

  2. Reading about your cramps will just make those guys better husbands and fathers of daughters! They need to understand that women have cramps, and that's that.

  3. I'll bet the guys stopped reading at "cramps." I totally relate! Two baths a year and juice in a wine glass. haha. Right on sister!

  4. ok when I get cramps I do not light candles grab juice and cookies; I crawl into the bath tub, start water, and then curl into fetal possition and hope I don't actually die. Glad you got to take a time out and enjoy a bath.

  5. You didn't use your Pampering Peach Moisturizing Foam Bath????!!!

  6. You didn't use your Pampering Peach Moisturizing Foam Bath????!!!

  7. Ugh I can feel your pain - I haven't had any of those death cramps for many moons (and I hope to avoid them indefinately...) but that bath sounds sooo relaxing. Glad it helped! Also glad they happened at the 'right' time so you can get some peace in the tub!

  8. Don't worry - that shouldn't scare Jon. He is not sheltered from hearing ALL about them once a month in the real world, so reading about them should be no big.

  9. Baths are evidence that God loves us and wants us to be happy.