Things those parenting books DON’T tell you…

You may find yourself, one chilly Monday morning, contemplating showering so you can smell girly and shave. You want to look and feel nice and clean because Houseboy (your brother) is out of town and you just might get some action later. And you’d be right in thinking your husband might be more inclined to some fun if you were, say, NOT smelling of sour breastmilk, WITHOUT rice cereal in your hair, and, oh, for the hell of it, NOT all hippied-out with a jungle of hair on your legs and your crotch. I’m hear to tell you: DON’T DO IT. Evil forces are at work while you shower. Trust me.

But let’s pretend you didn’t listen to me. Here is what might happen:

After a morning filled with train playing and nursing you notice both your toddler and infant seem pretty content. So you bring them into the bedroom so you can commence with the cleansing. You set up the smiling baby in her bouncy seat. She’s happy. She’s bubbly. You give the toddler a PB&J, a cookie (to ENSURE he stays put) and turn on reliable Elmo. You get naked and step in the shower.

Immediately your once-happy infant notices you are gone, and despite the fact she’s right outside the shower door she begins to cry. No biggie, you think as you shampoo. You crack the door a little so you can readjust her toys and let her see your face. This backfires. She now seems to understand you are just on the other side and SCREAMS when you shut the shower door. So while trying to shave you crack the door. Now she can see you. This works for about, oh, 30 seconds. You’ve got the armpits and one leg done. Bravely you decide to dredge on through and hope the fussiness subsides.

No such luck. The screaming gets louder. And now she’s throwing in some back-arching for effect. Its then you realize things are awfully quiet in the other half of the room-where you stupidly assume the toddler is quietly munching his sandwich and cookie in front of the tv.

Realizing nothing good ever comes when its quiet in the other part of the room, you’re just shaving like a madwoman. Your infant’s screaming has become some sort of UNHOLY HOWL and you clearly need to wrap up this shower. You’re singing. Playing peakaboo. All while you try and shave. Lets face it, the neighbors are going to call the cops soon, due to the screams of sheer torture only a bouncy seat can cause, so you quickly rinse and step out of the shower.

Only to fall on your half shaven crotch from the puddle of water on your bathroom floor. Way to crack the shower door, moron.

You recover. Dry off. Calm the baby. Step into the bedroom to find the toddler shoving his peanut butter and jelly inbetween your box spring and mattress. There is a trail of chocolate chips smushed into the carpet from the television to the bed. And you don’t even know where to begin in cleaning said toddler, who is covered in grape jelly and chocolate. Its on the back of his neck, for christsake.

So, instead, you declare it NAPTIME. And you’ll clean and maybe finish shaving later. But probably not.

I wonder how many other half-shaven mothers are wandering out there? I get the feeling I’m not alone.