June 27 Photo: Bathroom

I grew up in a house with one bathroom (and an older sister). So personal space (and time) in the bathroom was always at a premium. When I got my first apartment on my own, having my own bathroom was one of the most satisfying rewards of being independent. And when I got married, one of the things I most appreciated about my new husband and my new house was that I got my very own bathroom.

And then I had kids.

And since my bathroom happens to be the one with the bathtub, it also happens to now be the kids’ bathroom as well as mine. And that’s fine. Honestly, I find it kind of fun that my shower has an Elmo faucet cover, and that I usually have to fish a few rubber duckies and a truck or two out of the tub before my morning shower. But I’m also very glad that I still have my own personal “girly corner” that is mine, all mine.

My girly corner is full of things that remind me that I’m not just a tired mom who hasn’t had the chance to wash my hair in two days and who smells like stale formula and Desitin. My girly corner is a promise that there can still be a hot, relaxing bubble bath scented of raspberries or a cool, refreshing tub scented of spearmint after the kids go to bed at the end of a long day. I have mousse and hairspray and pomade for those wonderful evenings when we get a babysitter who starts duty an hour before we’re due to leave so I can actually style my hair. I have a bottle or two of perfume that make me feel like a sexy woman and a loved wife and not just a child-herder.

My bathroom may no longer be completely my own, but it is still my haven when I need it to be. My girly corner tells me so.

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!

Recharging Your Engines (in 30 Minutes or Less)

I've learned a lot of useful skills over the past three months since Ryan was born. One-handed typing, for instance. The art of the three-minute shower. Picking things up with my feet. Positioning a bottle with my teeth. Singing in my sleep (I think). But the most useful set of skills I've developed has to be the ways I've found to recharge my engines in less than 30 minutes.

Those readers who have children understand the 30-minute window. Naptime that lasts for several hours is reserved for crucial things like laundry, running errands (if the baby is a car-napper), and the occasional REAL nap. But it's during the shorter catnaps that you can snatch a few minutes for yourself without feeling guilty. I suspect every mom has her own list of things that refresh her and re-energize her to get through the rest of the day, but here are a few of the things I've discovered that work for me.

A 30-minute bubble bath. Incredibly hot water, an absurd amount of girly-scented bubble soap, a cushy neck pillow, the radio set to a classical station, and a paperback copy of Shakespeare, and I'm in heaven for half an hour. It doesn't matter that there are rubber duckies in all colors of the rainbow lined up on the side of the tub watching me. It doesn't matter that I'll have to rinse carefully so that Ryan doesn't get a mouthful of soapy-tasting boob the next time I feed him. It doesn't even matter that I know I may have to wait another week or more to finish the tale of Romeo or Viola or Petruchio. It just matters that for 30 minutes it's pretty much all about me and my comfort.

Another favorite is a big steaming mug of flavored coffee or herbal tea or cocoa with whipped cream and a piece of toast with cinnamon sugar sprinkled on it, enjoyed at the kitchen table watching the birds at the bird feeders. I even sometimes get my brain going by researching new birds with my electronic birdsong book or my faithful Peterson's Guide. The peace of nature warms my soul while my beverage of choice is warming my body all the way down to my toes.

Speaking of warmth, how about 30 minutes spent snuggled under a fluffy blanket just listening to music? (Okay, maybe catnapping a little, too. But mostly listening to music.) Grownup music, that is. Nothing with lyrics about holes in buckets or the bottom of the sea, or little old ladies eating bugs and livestock, or three little fishies/ducks/pigs/bears. Just music that soothes me the way the buckets and bugs and bears soothe Ryan.

And last but not least, I have to admit my favorite 30-minute guilty pleasure: cable TV reality shows. Not the cool competitive shows like Survivor or the Amazing Race or even Hell's Kitchen, but the really cheesy low-budget ones like Say Yes to the Dress, What Not to Wear, I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant, and Bridezillas. I suspect the reason I enjoy them so much is that they make me feel so well-adjusted, personable, and well-dressed. I never threw a temper tantrum while planning my wedding. I've never worn my mom's hand-me-down 1980s power suit to a job interview. I've never thought I had food poisoning and discovered in the emergency room that I was in labor with a baby I didn't know I was having. I may still be in my pajamas at 2 in the afternoon eating peanut butter toast as my first meal of the day, but I've still got it together more than these people.

So when Ryan goes down for a nap that I know is destined to be short-lived, I know what I need to do to fill that time and recharge myself for the rest of the day. And since he's falling asleep in my arms right now, I'd better wrap this up. I'm pretty sure I can find an episode of Tabatha's Salon Takeover on somewhere.