Life at the bottom of the bathtub

It’s important to have a sanctuary—a space that’s ours alone. So after redecorating the master bedroom, husband and I told the kids to stay out. No more baths in our bathtub or using our bed as a trampoline. Ditto for the wrestling matches in which our pillows serve as ammunition and our bedspread is transformed into a fort.

Our resolve lasted two weeks.

Now, when I pull back the shower curtain, a scantily-clad Barbie is posed at the bottom of the tub, hanging out with a mermaid and a Star Wars action figure. The shampoo purchased two days ago is one-quarter full, probably because the dolls needed to wash their hair, or the bath needed more bubbles. The bed has fared a little better, but everything is still suspiciously askew when I go upstairs at night.

The question I ask myself is, why do I have a hard time enforcing new rules and decisions? Sometimes it’s because I’m lazy and the follow through is taxing. Or maybe it’s that the rules need to be fine-tuned. Often, I’m just too tired to be the steady, consistent parent I’m supposed to be.

But in this case, I think there was another culprit: My heart wasn’t in it.

I’m guessing most parents harbor a subconscious (or not so subconscious) list of parenting woes–both physical and emotional. But for me, the most bittersweet aspect of parenting is that it’s like every other stage of life: ephemeral. And while you’re in the midst of it, you’re simultaneously wishing away its burdens and feeling melancholy about its imminent loss. Parenting made me aware that “This too shall pass” is both a benediction and a curse.

Someday–sooner than I can imagine–the toys will be gone. So will the spontaneous wrestling matches, the family dance parties, the math homework I barely understand, and the constant demands for attention. I’ll be the one trying to get noticed by my kids as they climb the steep hill into adulthood.

So, it’s bath time again. “Can we?” they ask, pointing to our room.

Maybe just once more.