Life is fraught with troubles. They assail us on every turn. (Here are some good words. One of which I have just learned is considered archaic. I wonder what I read that leads me to know archaic words?) Back to the tribulations of life. I am currently struggling with one. I hardly know what to do with myself, nor do I have any ideas for a possible solution, that I have not already tried, and failed. If you wish to hear the sad tale of my trouble, read on.
I can not take a shower. I have found it to be the hardest task of my day. When to do it, how to do it, why can't I do it, all of these things plague me. I wake up in the morning, and we go mall walking. I am sure that I could shower before we go, but then I would have to get up even earlier, and it is already painful enough for me to get out of the warm comfort of my bed into the cold darkness as it is. Also, I would have to shower again when we returned, I think. Then I come to when we return. I usually persuade Hallie to take a nap, which she is eventually willing to do, but by this time I am completely exhausted myself, and telling myself that I will just take a quick rest and then get up and shower, I fall into the deepest sleep imaginable only to be roused when Hallie is ready to play again.
So. Then we play. She is finally showing signs of being tired again, and so we sit down to begin the naptime routine. She goes through phases where she has to nap on me for her afternoon nap, and right now we are in the midst of one such phase. So, I try to put her down so I can escape and shower, but no. She won't have it. She's cunning and canny, even in her sleep and can tell at a moment's notice the difference between being held in my arms whilst I am sitting, and when I stand. She lets this slide, mostly untroubled, until I begin to lower her into the crib. Then she puckers up her face like she is warning me. When I lay her in her crib, she wakes up and cries a mournful cry. I cannot resist. I pick her up again and hold her for the next two hours while she slumbers. Then she wakes up. She is playful, in a good mood. Here is where I try to get creative in finding ways to make a shower possible.
First, I have tried getting her to play in her playpen with some toys. She thinks this is a terrible idea, and screams to let all the neighbors and any passing police officers know. This shower ended with my hair still a bit shampoo-ey. I have also tried, on more than one occassion putting her on the floor in the bathroom with some toys. The first time I tried this, it worked out pretty well, until I peeked from around the shower curtain and discovered that she was so content because she had discovered the plunger and was considering it's potential to be a delicious treat. The next time we tried it I moved the plunger out of her way and tried again. She decided to try to crawl into the shower with me, slipped, fell down, and became very angry. This also left me distinctly soap-y for the rest of the day. I abandoned that idea for a while. I tried putting her in her high chair, in the bathroom with me, with some rice krispies on her tray, to play with and eat. This worked beautifully, until I got in the shower. She started crying as if I had pinched her terribly in the seat. I leaned out of the shower and checked her limbs. She seemed to be fine, and upon recieving this attention she stopped crying. I went back to showering. As soon as the curtain closed behind me, the wailing began again. I thought, maybe she is hurt. I peered around the curtain again, and as soon as she saw me looking at her those crocodile tears stopped. We went on in this way a few more minutes, until I finally resigned myself to turning the knob of the showerhead towards the wall, opening the shower curtain a little, and finishing my shower looking at her as much as possible, singing the alphabet song over and over. If I stopped singing, or turned my head for to long to reach for the soap, the whole thing started over. That was however, the cleanest I may have been in a while, thanks to the alphabet. Today I tried again, putting her on the floor with some toys and everything harmful or disgusting (plunger included) out of her reach. I thought it was going to be a success, until again, I stepped behind that abominable white curtain. It sounded as though her misery were greater than any such this world had known. It did not, this time, stop when I peered around the curtain. I was wet, and I was desperate to be clean, so I yanked off all her clothes, and her diaper, and brought her into the shower with me. She thought this was great fun, and was all smiles and laughs, until the water from the showerhead fell on her. So, we took a bath. I did manage to shampoo my hair, and she had great fun. Is this, then, to be my new solution to this greatest of trials? I have at times resorted to showering at night, after Devin is home, but that is complicated also. How much maintenance to wigs require? The rest I am sure could be taken care of by copious amounts of deodorant and perfume. Hmm...