Battle of the Bath

If you have ever seen my children and thought that they looked, well, a little dirty, I can totally explain. 

You see, I hate bath time.

I'll admit it - I don't necessarily bathe my children everyday.  It is completely dependent on the level of dirt I perceive to be on them or the next day's planned activities.  On those unfortunate days when there's just no getting around it, into the bath they go.  It usually goes a little something like this:

I announce to the girls that it's bath time.  I am greeted with cheers and laughter, since they love bath time (and have very short memories as to what has happened during every bath for the last many years).  They go skipping merrily hand-in-hand to the bathtub, giggling and singing.  (Okay, I'm exaggerating a bit here, but I'm trying to paint you a picture...) 

It usually doesn't take long for the bubble to burst.  I generally like to let them play for a few minutes before I begin the grisly task of washing.  If they're not fighting over the toys, then they're having such a glorious time that they apparently lose all control of their mental faculties.  This is usually when the splashing begins.  I yell for the splashing to stop and furiously try to dry the water off the floor with the clean towel I had intended to use to dry them off with.  They also like to fill up little bowls and place them on the side of the bathtub.  9 times out of 10, these little bowls get knocked off onto the floor, adding to both the mess and my frustration.

Now, if they're taking a bath in my bathtub, the problems only multiply.  I have a huge soaking tub, and the girls love to take their baths in it.  On more than one occasion, someone has "accidentally" pushed the button that activates the jets, and since I only fill the tub up to just around the jets, water is sent flying all over me, the floor, and the wall on the other side of the room until I can scramble to push the button to turn them back off.  After I change clothes, a trail of wild laughter following me, I come back in to wash the girls.  This is right where the fun stops.  Hallie wants me to wash Leah first.  Leah doesn't want to be washed at all, and scurries to the back of the tub where I can't reach her.  I'm a problem solver, though, so I shed my pants and socks and climb in after her.  Picture Leah running around the bathtub, me chasing her in a t-shirt and underwear, and Hallie yelling, "I'll save you Leah."  Soaped up, a 2-year old is hard to hold on to.  By this time, I'm sweating and the girls are crying because I'm no longer interested in taking care to keep water out of anyone's eyes as I rinse. 

This is usually the point where I'm questioning the value of baths in the first place, and now that I'm thoroughly over this maddening process, I'm angrily ordering everyone out of the tub.  I get out and dry off my legs (more giggles because, hey, what could be funnier than a mad mommy half-dressed exiting a bathtub?).  While I'm drying Leah off, Hallie decides that what she needs is a little "saving" and begs me to baptize her just one time before she gets out.  Because I know my Hallie, I know that this whole process will go a lot more smoothly if I just humor her, so I say those special words through gritted teeth, baptizing her in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit while she dunks herself under.  When she comes out of those holy waters, I'm ordered to clap and sing a chorus of "Jesus Loves Me," and by this time, I'm just hoping that the Holy Spirit will keep me from completely losing it. 

I do love a clean baby, so just when I'm ready to admit that the whole chaotic process was worth it, it's time to comb hair...

Fresh off a bath tonight, I think we'll just stay inside tomorrow and not get dirty.