Simple things. Like showers.

Being a parent has its fair share of “why me?” moments. Being a single parent only amplifies these happenings. Kind of like zooming in on the stage with your shitty camera phone trying to capture the memory of your favourite band playing their best song. You’re left with a pixilated blur of what was or could have been and you find yourself staring blankly at the reality of the situation and all you can do is laugh at yourself.
I can just let it be a glorious, organic happening in my life, or I can try to script it, save it, make it something other than the simple beauty that is in front of me. 

The boi child sleeps. I finished, in theory, a drawing for my friend’s daughter before deciding to take this opportunity to cleanse myself in a long hot shower. Sounds relaxing I am sure. That’s what I thought too, before getting unclothed and into the drops.
This officially marks shower number three with “the peeping Tom”. Tom has eight legs, an abdomen, and probably a million eyes, razor sharp teeth and an insatiable thirst for blood.

Shower number one with Tom:
Me: Oh, hell….Ok, you stay where you are and I’ll do my best to hurry up. We can do this together. You can live if you stay in your space and don’t come into mine….
Tom: Ok, fine, but make it snappy.
~undisclosed amount of time passes~
~humidity rises~
Tom: Ummm, lady? It’s getting really muggy in here. (Begins to pace back and forth on high ledge of shower wall)
Me: Oh, shit…shit, shit shit SHIT! (rinses quickly and safely exits shower, pulls curtain closed)

I dry off and feel like I need a wash from being so icked out, but we all know that’s out of the question.
I peek into the shower to see Tom still in his corner. I pray he finds better lodging soon.

The second time and beginning of the third is a basic repeat nightmare.

Tom started stirring tonight. I was almost done anyway. The long day at work had almost been fully rinsed from my mind and body. The steam brought relief. The eucalyptus and sandalwood had done their hard work on my conscious.
Completely out of character Chatty Kathy Cat jumped onto the side of the tub, peeked her head around the side of the curtain and proceeded to scream at me with concern for the water torture I was enduring. Her pained expression, her frightened eyes, her twitching when water splashed off of me onto her face. This therapy session was officially over. I explained to my fluffy, grey grandma kitty that I was fine. I turned off the water with one more glance to Tom, making sure he was keeping his end of our bargain, opened the curtain to find Paren(theses) the cat on the toilet seat with shock in her eyes, and her son, Jiji on the floor playing with the rug.

This. Is. My. Life.

My son sleeps soundly. I seek relaxation. All the other critters make sure I don’t get soft.

May your relaxing moments be so laughable. Here’s to the bed I snuggle into and the promise that at least one warm blooded creature will join me. All others need not apply.
That means you, Tom.


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