There's a Sub in My Tub

My first apartment after college was a bit shabby, but it had one amazing feature: an antique claw-footed bathtub. I loved that tub. I spent many an hour soaking in it, filling the bathroom with scented bubbles and classical music. My next two apartments, amazingly enough, also had fabulous claw-footed tubs. A long soak in a hot tub with a good book and a glass of wine became my favorite stress release. A bathroom with a nice bathtub was my haven.

When I married, that didn’t change. My husband used the smaller master bath, and I got the guest bathroom with the bathtub. The shelves were soon lined with boxes of bath salts, bottles of bubble bath, and tins of fizzing scented bath tablets. But shortly after Ryan was born, that all changed. My floral-scented haven began to smell instead of Johnson’s baby wash and talcum powder. The bottles and tins lining the tub gave way to an array of rubber duckies, plastic penguins, and a smiling blue octopus. If I managed to sneak in a soak in the tub, I did it under the watchful eyes of Elmo, who now adorned the tub faucet. And before I got in the tub, I had to evict two boats, a helicopter, and a submarine, along with their attendant pilots.

I knew that having a child would turn my basement entertainment lounge into a playroom full of toys, but I didn’t expect to sacrifice my bathroom. It’s funny how taking on more adult responsibilities, like parenthood, often brings you back to your childhood, like tubby toys and baby shampoo. And I’ll admit, as much as I sometimes miss having my own personal bathtub haven, it can be kind of fun having Elmo to keep me company, or nudging a boat or two around with my toes while I’m soaking. They don’t seem to mind a few bubbles, and I no longer mind having a sub in my tub. Because when Ryan is old enough to stage naval battles in the tub, I’ll be ready!

Better Living Through Chemistry

I’ve blogged before about the advantages of technology in raising a baby these days. But my generation also has the advantages of huge chemical and medical knowledge. The list of health and hygiene products that never existed when my parents were children – and even during my own childhood – is immense. And I don’t mean just the biggies like immunizations and antibiotics that save babies’ lives. I mean all those “minor” products that save parents’ sanity.

When my mother was a baby, the accepted remedy for teething pain was to rub whiskey on her gums. I very much doubt that my staunch Baptist grandmother ever did this. But there have been rumors of homemade elderberry wine that may have been put to medicinal use! When I was a baby, my mother kept a tiny vial of oil of cloves in the medicine cabinet to rub on my gums. I’ve smelled that stuff, and I admit that it may or may not have dulled the pain, but it certainly would have created a sensory distraction. But when Ryan seemed to be in pain from teething yesterday (I know, I know, I’ve been claiming he’s teething for two months now – but I’ll keep saying it and eventually I’ll be right), I had my own magic vial of infant Tylenol that numbed his pain and allowed him to finally get some much-needed (as much by me as by him) rest.

Another problem that I, fortunately, have not had to deal with is gas and colic. I have no idea how my grandmother dealt with it, but my mom’s best resource for me was to plop me in the car and drive around the neighborhood for hours, usually at 2 or 3 o’clock in the morning.

For my generation of moms, however, not only do we have the option of the late-night drive (with much safer and simpler car seats, to boot), but we have a cabinet full of products like Mylicon drops and infant Tagamet, Prilosec, Prevacid and Zantac to calm and soothe those tender tummies.

Cough or cold? Forget about sitting on the side of the tub with the shower running full blast to create a steam room. We have warm mist, cool mist, high mist, low mist, with medication, without medication humidifiers. We have twenty-seven brands of cough drops and cold liquids. We have products to loosen a cough, dry a cough, prevent a cough, prevent a cold, unstuff a nose, and stop a runny nose.

And even on the non-medicinal side of things, we have shampoos, skin creams, diaper rash creams, powders, body wash, and bubble bath. Hypoallergenic, organic, aromatherapy, vegan, non-animal-tested – whatever you want, you can find it out there.

Gone are the days of a single bottle of Johnson & Johnson No More Tears shampoo that served to wash everything. These days you can find a specialized product for every conceivable body part with every conceivable twist – moisturizing, drying, anti-itch, softening, and on and on.

So although it may be a little overwhelming to look at those store shelves full of thousands of products, I’m glad to have all those options. Because somewhere amidst those bottle and vials and jars and tubs is one item that will make my baby happy and contented. And when baby is happy, everybody is happy!

Fathers and Sons

There's nothing quite so wonderful for a new mom as having a husband who is not only excited and actively involved with the baby (as most are), but who is also an experienced dad. In my case, my husband's experience is 17 years in the past, but like riding a bike, it comes back very quickly.

I'm not sure who adores whom more, whether it's Herb crushing on his son or Ryan crushing on his daddy. But it's obvious there's a mutual admiration society going on there.

Herb and his daughter have a very special relationship, and are probably closer than a lot of fathers and daughters are. After all, she lived with just him for 9 months out of the year for most of her life. And even before her parents were divorced, she got special time with him because her daycare was at his work so he could visit with her at lunch and got extra father-daughter time during his commute to and from work. Even aside from his devotion to her, spending that much time together creates a very close bond. But I think the combination of her growing up and not needing him in the same way that she used to and having a son instead of another daughter is making his bond with Ryan something special in its own way, too.

The relationship between daddies and daughters is, I think, based on a bit of mystery on both sides. A daddy has never been a little girl playing dress-up and having tea parties, or a tween girl dealing with clothes and makeup and hair, or a teenage girl trying to understand boys and the world of dating. And a girl doesn't usually look at her father and think about growing up to be just like him. So there's a natural disconnect there that can never be completely bridged.

Fathers and sons, on the other hand, have a different kind of connection. A daddy looks at his little boy and relives his own childhood: wrestling, rough-housing, playing with trucks and dirt and worms and dead things. He knows what it's like to be a boy because he's been one. He went through the embarassment of a changing voice, being shorter than the girls, growing a caterpillar on his upper lip, the public hazards of hormones, and asking a girl for a date for the first time. He can identify. And a son can look at his dad and get a glimpse of his own future, whether it be athletic prowess or a receding hairline. He can see what he may grow into. Even in babyhood, there's a special bond between a man and the child who will carry on his family name.

So I love watching my husband and son together. I love that they already have a special routine together. Every night at around 9pm, Herb takes Ryan upstairs for "tubby time". Sometimes I join them, but for the most part, I leave them alone for their male bonding time. Ryan grew out of the baby bathtub very quickly, so now he gets to flail around in the big tub, making waves and getting squirted with his many tub toys. He loves when Daddy sprays his chest with the showerhead and lets the water spritz over his face - he sticks out his tongue and tastes it, or if it's too much, scrunches up his face in distaste. Daddy even encourages him to close his eyes and hold his breath while he sprays a little water on his face, to get him ready for dabbling in the pool next summer. But the best part of tubby time is the hair dryer afterwards! When bathtime is over, Herb wraps him in one of his towels (the duck, the elephant, the turtle, the monogram - the choices are almost endless) and brings him to the changing table to diaper him and dress him for bed.

But before he gets dressed, he gets dried all over with the hair dryer. He knows the drill by now so as soon as he hears the dryer he melts into a relaxed puddle. When Herb dries his hair and the warm air blows around his face, he closes his eyes blissfully and makes funny mouth puckers as he waves his chubby arms and legs in ecstasy. Once he's snuggled into a warm sleeper, Herb shuts off the lights, turns on the music, settles into the rocking chair, and gives him his last bottle of the day before tucking him in his crib.

I must admit, I'm a little jealous that I'm not the one tucking him in every night. But I know that I have him all to myself almost every day, and I don't begrudge Herb his special daddy time. After all, he is a very special daddy.