Monday, August 23, 2010

I Cried Me A River

For a Sunday morning, our day was beginning in an incredibly lazy fashion. 

Our Saturday had been spent out of town with friends.  We'd gotten home so late that we'd denied bathtime in favor of bedtime, so washing hair and scrubbing fingernails was at the top of our list for pre-church necessities.  But so far, the morning wasn't following my plan.

I'd woken up reluctantly, hitting the snooze button several times.  When Lauren started talking and singing in her bed earlier than she should have, I wished for a toddler-wired snooze button as well.  Barring that, I granted myself the inevitability of a day beginning earlier than I'd hoped for.  And really, they all begin that way, don't they?

Breakfast was slow and indecisively chosen.  We were out of strawberries and bananas.  The correct bowls and spoons were in the dirty dishwasher.  It was a morning not to be prolonged, and yet...prolonged it was.

Bath time finally arrived, and with it, a sense of adventure.  Our baths are always at night, so bathing in the middle of the morning was nothing but silly.  The girls hopped in before the tub had been filled all the way, and they played in the waterfall from the spout while I gathered towels.  They splashed and swam in tiny circles (rectangles, actually) while I continued with the lazy morning's precedent. 

I leaned against the counter and dallied with a dusty picture frame, paying no attention to the bathtub at all. 

Which was when the morning suddenly turned un-lazy with a warm blast water pummeling my face.

You know in those tv-shows when a bumbling, good-natured character is trying to fix the plumbing and it bursts in his face, and you think, 'Get out of the way, idiot!' but he just stands there shielding his face with his flapping hands while water floods the room? 

Yeah.  That's a pretty good approximation of what happened in my bathroom. 

Water was spraying me and the entire bathroom, splashing across the mirror and countertops, puddling on the floor and rug, while I screamed helpless whoops! of astonishment.  And I had no idea what to do. 

Where is it coming from?  How can I stop it?  Why am I not moving?  These things crossed my mind, but it took a minute of agonizing muddle-headedness before I darted away from the water plume.  Slip-sliding on the floor, I wiped my eyes and looked toward the source:

The bathtub.

More specifically, the shower. 

I pounded the handle down, shutting off the water and gathering my wits.

In the tub, the girls were wide-eyed and giddy.  Mia's staccato laughter began quietly, building into uncontrollable hoots while Lauren stayed in more of a shocked state of disbelief.  She finally giggled and scrunched up her nose.  "Is that funny, mama?" she wondered hopefully. 

It was absolutely NOT funny.  It was NOT funny that Justin had left the shower hose dangling sideways from its was NOT funny that he'd forgotten to place the plastic froggy spout-protector back on the was NOT funny that Lauren had curiously pulled the tiny metal button up, forcing the running water into the sideways-facing shower head.  None of it was funny, in the least. 

I looked around the drenched bathroom, shaking my head at the mess.  My lazy morning went up in a spray of water. 

And okay.

Maybe it was a little bit funny.

But only in retrospect.


  1. Oh ... er ... definitely not funny ;)

  2. Oh I'm so sorry, but I was giggling like Mia reading this. Does that mean I think it was funny? Maybe. :) But if it had happened to me it wouldn't have been funny at all. No sir.

  3. Good thing for our ability to see things and even smile "in retrospect", huh? :)

  4. I'm not laughing AT you, I'm laughing WITH You're not laughing :)

  5. It might not have been funny yesterday, but today, verges on hilarious

  6. Hehehe... but it was definitely funny to read. :) You're in the company of another mom whose fallen victim to an out-of-control shower head at the hands of a toddler.


Hmm...And how did that make you FEEL?