Cleanliness is Next to Timeliness

This morning at 8:45, I sent my oldest son out the door on his way to school, shut the door behind me and declared to my little ones, "It's a bath day!"  (As a good rule of thumb, I figure that whenever I can no longer pinpoint the day I last bathed them, it stands to reason that it's time to do it again.)  My announcement was met with shrieks and squeals (probably because it's been a while) as Miss J (5) and Little Mr. C (3) ran to the bathroom, leaving a trail of pajamas in their wake.  I filled the tub, they chose their toys, they climbed in, Miss J climbed back out dripping wet to go potty, and then they played and shriveled like little prunes as I, nursing babe in arms, looked on. 

We began this process at about 8:50.  We had to leave for Miss J's ballet class at 10:15.  No problem, right? 

Wrong.

First of all, you have to realize something.  I have the worst sense of time of anyone that has ever existed.  Ever.  In the whole world.  No matter how much I try to tell myself otherwise, I firmly believe that it takes 15 minutes to get anywhere.  And then I leave 10 minutes to get there.  I'm also fairly certain that I can cram 12 activities into the 10 minutes before I go.  It hasn't been accomplished yet, but one of these days.... 

So, because we had all the time in the world, I leisurely fed the baby, spelled words with foam letters on the shower wall, and periodically checked in with 8 yr-old Miss M, who was unable to handle school today.  I passed out pink washcloths.  I doled out the soap.  I played with my kids.  I sang songs with them.  I convinced Mr. C that boys can use pink washcloths.  I replaced the murky water in the tub with fresh water (suspicious that a diaperless Mr. C had caused the murkiness).  I poured cupfuls of water over them, loving their giggles.  I was just getting ready to wash their hair...and then I looked at the clock.  It was 9:40.

Fast forward.  Seriously, if you picture everything that happened after that point and then imagine it at warp speed, that's how it felt from that moment on.  An observer would have heard us all speaking in chipmunk, including the set-down baby's screams.  Shampooscrubscrub rinsescrubscrub "that soap smells girly!" scrubscrub "it's in my eyes!"wipewipe rinserepeatscrubscrub pickuptoweldry*cuddle*diaperdress.  Next child.  Shampooscrubscrub rinsescrubscrub "I can do it myself"scrubscrub "it's in my eyes!"wipewipe rinserepeatscrubscrub pickuptoweldry*cuddle*"go get dressed!"  Grab your shoes! Get your coat! Choose a book!  Can I bring my umbrella? Can you put on my tights? I can't get my shoe on! Where are your glasses? Can I have some raisins? Ahhhhhhh!!!

Amazingly, despite the enormous task set before me, I had three kids completely ready to walk out the door at 10:15.  Unfortunately, it was at that exact moment that I realized I was sweaty, covered in bath water....and still in my pajamas.  And so was the baby.  After cramming 12 more things into the next 10 (okay...more like 17) minutes, all five of us left the house at 10:32....two minutes after Miss J's ballet class started.  It's a good thing it only takes 15 minutes to get there.

My point?  Not sure I really have one, except that my life is crazy and I'm late for everything...but I wouldn't have traded that bath full of giggles for the world.