A shower story

This morning, while my other half was still at home, I had a shower just so I could wash my hair. Ten minutes later I was getting dressed when I realised I’d got out without doing the deed I had gone in there to do.   I blame my brain fade on the severe lack of sleep that little miss has been inflicting on me lately.

I usually have my showers at night to avoid the stress of having two children annoying the crap out of me. Typically a morning shower would go like this: I hop into the shower and am just starting to enjoy the blissful feeling of hot water on my gorgeous, totally in shape naked body – you know the type with perky boobs, flat tum and beautiful bum.  At this point youngest child starts banging on the door and screaming.  With my daydreaming cut short I sigh and start to quickly get washed.  Older child, in a rare moment of sibling love,  kindly opens the bathroom door for younger child, who promptly rushes in to the shower and tries to hug my leg.  I balance on one foot as I try to dislodge child, whilst rinsing off the soap that is threatening to get into said child’s eyes.  There is only one towel.  Child’s nappy has filled up with so much water that it’s making sloshing noises.  If I had thought about it (blame mummy brain again), I would have undone the nappy while she was still in the shower.  There is now lots of water all over the floor.  Naked and dripping, while towelling her off, it is at this moment that her brother decides to barge in.  This is always the time when any flatmates or guests that are staying will walk past the bathroom.  They get an eyeful of my less-than-perky breasts, mummy tummy  and saggy bum.  My embarrassment about this leads to depression which forces me to eat a whole king-size slab of chocolate. Yes forces! Don’t try to argue with me on this point as it won’t end well!