It's a jungle out there: Do you live with small animals? I DO.

I remember when a shower was a mundane part of my routine, something I did without fail in the morning at the same time everyday. That was also when I worked at a "job"- the kind you get paid for, that automatically comes with adult conversation.

In that lifetime, I just thought.... oh, it's time to take a shower, like oh, I have to pee or, oh, I just have to make a phone call.... no big deal, it'll only take a minute.

That was then, This is NOW.

Currently,any of these activities can be in the background of my mind all day, and it may take hours to turn them into reality. Or not.

These small-uncivilized creatures we call children, can change these activities to such a degree, it becomes an unexplainable phenomenon. You must master the art of distraction while trying to keep these animals/small children safe, so you can do ONE thing.

Some days, it feels like you're trying to survive in a jungle, swinging from tree to tree, trying to accomplish something.... anything, two things.

After having my first born, a shower became a luxury. That is, if I got to take one.
She was this little, screaming helpless being that I could NOT leave alone for one second. I would put her in bouncies, swings and saucers just inches from the shower and feverishly wash my hair so I could get out fast. It was like these surges of post partum anxiety would fill my body with a “Hurry up. Hurry up. Hurry up…” message. There was a voice yelling at me, telling me to take the fastest fucking shower possible.
No longer mundane, certainly not relaxing. Honestly , kind of nightmare – ish.

As my daughter grew into more of a mobile animal, I would do things like stick her in front of Barney (shoot me now), or really take a risk and let her play with her toys on the bath rug.
That would result in my finding her covered in Desitin like it was face paint.
Or she would pull every baby wipe; every q-tip and an entire roll of toilet paper would be strewn across the bathroom and the length of the hallway.

Little did I know, there would be more shower and bath treats in store for me with my second born.
Then, there are two small animals to contend with, if you ever take a shower again.

And let’s not forget, they also need to be bathed regularly.

I decided I was NOT going to let them turn me into a fat, sweat pants wearing mom with filthy hair.
Most days I resort to letting them kill each other in the living room and my “inner secret rule” is: when one starts crying, I’ll get out.

Then, I started to experience the joys of bathing my two-year-old boy.

He stands up and pees and yells with absolute glee…. “I peed mommy! I peed mommy!” So it begins, being proud of his bodily functions...... very similar to another man I know.

And, a bath for him has also become a game called: creating a fucking flood for mommy to clean up. I stupidly leave a goddamn cup in there every time, and he pours water out of the bathtub every night.

When am I going to learn?????? Last night I found myself wringing out yet another towel and draping it outside. Yes, I am white trash and I hang the fucking thing over the porch- the front porch.

This is getting rather drawn out. Who knew bathing could be so complex?

I am truly saving the best for last.

As I was pulling the drain up in the bath tub last night, I felt a soft, squishy thing in my hand, and no, it was not a bath toy.

My throat closed up like I was going to vomit.
“OH NO!!!” I yelled.

“I pooped!” Jaxson said with pride. Seriously, he was so excited.

As if the huge turd wasn't enough, the small balls of shit started to float to the top....
the smell of johnson's baby wash and shit. sense memory, sorry.

“Oh god Jaxson, seriously."

I have a son who shits in the bathtub.

Or would it be cuter if I said, “poops in the bathtub?"

I mean seriously, what the fuck?