My Morning Work-Out

Before Luke was born, people kept telling me that after I had a kid, showers would become impossible, rare occurrences. I'll admit, I scoffed at them--after all, it's a 10-minute shower. How hard could it be? And at first, it really wasn't hard. Luke would chill on the floor or in his crib or in the bouncer and it was no problem. Then, he figured out how to crawl and flip over his bouncer, but still, I could put him in the play pen or the exersaucer with some toys (and later, a snack), and all was fine.

But now, half the time, I wait until Other Baby gets here to shower, which is a BAD idea, I KNOW it's a bad idea, but the lure of staying in bed for an extra 20 minutes always wins out over good sense. So there are two toddlers roaming the bedroom and bathroom while I try to take a super-quick, 5-minute shower. The problem, of course, is that there are 300 seconds in 5 minutes. Do you KNOW how much trouble two toddlers can get into in 300 seconds? My showers these days go something like this:

-Wait for the water to warm up while setting the toddlers up with some new and unusual toy--fabric scraps, blocks that are usually out of reach, a box full of hats--ANYTHING to buy myself some time.
-By the time the water is warm, the new and unusual toy has become old and boring.
-Hop in, praying that they'll find an appropriate way to entertain themselves for 300 seconds.
-Hear the sounds of drawers opening. Peek out, only to discover that they have opened all the drawers in the two dressers and are busily emptying all the folded, stacked clothes out onto the floor. Decide that's an appropriate form of entertainment, if only it'll get you another 250 seconds.
-Hear metallic sounds. Jump out of the shower, run across the bedroom dripping wet, and rescue a box of earrings from an eager, toddler hand. A box of earrings which, I might add, was OUT OF REACH yesterday, but apparently, one of them has gained an inch overnight. Put the box up even higher.
-Hop back in, try to stop shivering, reach for the soap. Hear the sound of a toilet being opened. Peek out. A toddler has thrown something into the toilet and is now poking at it with the (gross, disgusting) toilet brush. Hop out, still dripping wet and freezing, peer into the toilet, decide that since whatever it was is no longer visible, it's probably small enough to be flushed. Return toilet brush to holder, usher toddlers out of bathroom, suggest they look for trucks outside the window.
-Hop back in, shampoo hair. Hear...nothing. It's never this quiet. Peek out. Oh. They've closed the bathroom door. Hop out, open the bathroom door, find them in the process of climbing on an overturned laundry basket so they can get back into the box of earrings. SERIOUSLY? They closed the door and got themselves a basket to climb on, just so they could get to a forbidden object? Are one-year-olds SUPPOSED to be this diabolical already?
-Shampoo is now dripping into eyes. Decide that the easiest thing to do at this point is to take the laundry basket INTO THE SHOWER with you so they can't use it as a ladder again. (Yes, it would've been better to put it in the closet or the living room, but Dude, shampoo. In my eyes.)
-Wash out the shampoo, decide that's good enough for today, turn off water, and get out of the shower. Two runny-nosed toddlers are overcome with joy that you've returned to play with them, so they run up and give you big hugs (read: they wipe their snot on your legs) and kisses (read: drool on your arms.)

Seems to me, I was just as clean before the shower. Plus, I'm pretty sure I didn't get all the shampoo out. Showering with a baby was EASY. Showering with two toddlers should count as an Olympic event.