My child wallows in her own filth
We bathed Mia on Saturday night. Tonight we did it again. That's pretty much four full days without a bath. Why do we do it? Why do we allow our child to sit placidly in her disgusting body odors and emissions?
Well, the reason is twofold. One, Krys's job. She's been getting home anywhere between quarter to six and quarter after six every day, and we like to put Mia down for bed between seven and half past seven. So Krys wants to spend time with the kid, and she reads to her, and we're both tired and old, so we say, "We'll do it tomorrow ..." So that's another day of stewing in her juices!
Bathing the child is also quite the production. Mia has a bathing seat, and bathing her is a two-person job. Here's how it works:
Krys fills the tub almost to the level of the seat (it's a pretty groovy thing, but since I don't have a digital camera, you'll just have to imagine it). Then she gets naked (Mia, that is - Krys keeps her clothes on). The seat's back can go up or down, and we keep it pretty much flat. I lay her down on the seat, and she immediately decides to whimper. Luckily, she has Mr. Seahorse, a small plastic chew toy in the shape of, you guessed it, a seahorse (didn't see that one coming, did you?). Why all her bath toys are Misters disturbs me, but Krys decreed it, so I guess she knows what she's doing. She immediately begins chewing on Mr. Seahorse, because she chews on, well, everything. Then Krys begins washing her hair while I get her medicine from the kitchen. Krys sits on a small stool near her head to wash it, because, well, she's eight months pregnant and sitting on the floor is not happening. I sit on the toilet seat once I return. It's tag-team washing time!
Krys washes and rinses her hair while I rinse her off. We use plastic mugs that we got at successive Oregon Brewers' Festivals. Mia needs to learn all about beer! When we're done rinsing her, we give her on of the mugs. She likes to hoot into the mugs because it makes a nice echo. So she dumps Mr. Seahorse and hoots into the mug. She's a performance artist!
While Krys is putting conditioner in her hair, I am rinsing her and putting soap on her body. She digs this. Apparently the soap is very tasty. She gets it on her hand and puts it in her mouth and smiles. Krys believes this is because she (my wife) always says, "Don't eat the soap! Blech!" which Mia finds highly amusing. So she eats the soap. It hasn't killed her yet, and we all know what Nietzsche said.
She has gotten in the habit of rubbing her chest when there's soap on it, because she understands the concept of "washing." So there we are, merrily washing along, and all is right in the universe. What could possibly go wrong?
If you're a parent, you should know the answer to this. There, looming on the horizon, is the hair-combing. But that's still in the future. Right now we're soaping her up and rinsing her, and we're all happy. She's all rinsed off and smiling, and then I sit her up. She knows what's coming! Krys sprays "detangler" in her hair while I distract her. I turn her head to the left, because she naturally turns her head to the right, and I hold her upright, and before the evil comb comes, I have my hand over her mouth, doing the old "Injun" thing (slowly tapping her mouth) while she shouts. She knows what I'm doing and she loves it. Then the comb hits.
Mia has really long hair. She's a small girl, after all. We would love to keep it down, but as I have mentioned before, she eats her hair. So it's really long, and it gets tangled, especially her left side, the side on which she sleeps. So Krys attacks it with the comb, and the horror begins. It's like we're killing her. The nice thing is, Krys is pretty good at combing hair quickly, so this doesn't last that long. Once her hair is combed, we're all done. Krys gets her towel, and I must lift her straight up, which is becoming more and more difficult by the day. She's huge! There are lifts and such that we can get if she gets much bigger and can still not get out on her own power, but we'll see. Krys whisks her away to the bedroom, and just like that Christmas carol, all is calm.
It's quite the production, as I said. This is why Mia wallows in her own filth for days. Please don't call CPS! Are we horrible people?
Well, the reason is twofold. One, Krys's job. She's been getting home anywhere between quarter to six and quarter after six every day, and we like to put Mia down for bed between seven and half past seven. So Krys wants to spend time with the kid, and she reads to her, and we're both tired and old, so we say, "We'll do it tomorrow ..." So that's another day of stewing in her juices!
Bathing the child is also quite the production. Mia has a bathing seat, and bathing her is a two-person job. Here's how it works:
Krys fills the tub almost to the level of the seat (it's a pretty groovy thing, but since I don't have a digital camera, you'll just have to imagine it). Then she gets naked (Mia, that is - Krys keeps her clothes on). The seat's back can go up or down, and we keep it pretty much flat. I lay her down on the seat, and she immediately decides to whimper. Luckily, she has Mr. Seahorse, a small plastic chew toy in the shape of, you guessed it, a seahorse (didn't see that one coming, did you?). Why all her bath toys are Misters disturbs me, but Krys decreed it, so I guess she knows what she's doing. She immediately begins chewing on Mr. Seahorse, because she chews on, well, everything. Then Krys begins washing her hair while I get her medicine from the kitchen. Krys sits on a small stool near her head to wash it, because, well, she's eight months pregnant and sitting on the floor is not happening. I sit on the toilet seat once I return. It's tag-team washing time!
Krys washes and rinses her hair while I rinse her off. We use plastic mugs that we got at successive Oregon Brewers' Festivals. Mia needs to learn all about beer! When we're done rinsing her, we give her on of the mugs. She likes to hoot into the mugs because it makes a nice echo. So she dumps Mr. Seahorse and hoots into the mug. She's a performance artist!
While Krys is putting conditioner in her hair, I am rinsing her and putting soap on her body. She digs this. Apparently the soap is very tasty. She gets it on her hand and puts it in her mouth and smiles. Krys believes this is because she (my wife) always says, "Don't eat the soap! Blech!" which Mia finds highly amusing. So she eats the soap. It hasn't killed her yet, and we all know what Nietzsche said.
She has gotten in the habit of rubbing her chest when there's soap on it, because she understands the concept of "washing." So there we are, merrily washing along, and all is right in the universe. What could possibly go wrong?
If you're a parent, you should know the answer to this. There, looming on the horizon, is the hair-combing. But that's still in the future. Right now we're soaping her up and rinsing her, and we're all happy. She's all rinsed off and smiling, and then I sit her up. She knows what's coming! Krys sprays "detangler" in her hair while I distract her. I turn her head to the left, because she naturally turns her head to the right, and I hold her upright, and before the evil comb comes, I have my hand over her mouth, doing the old "Injun" thing (slowly tapping her mouth) while she shouts. She knows what I'm doing and she loves it. Then the comb hits.
Mia has really long hair. She's a small girl, after all. We would love to keep it down, but as I have mentioned before, she eats her hair. So it's really long, and it gets tangled, especially her left side, the side on which she sleeps. So Krys attacks it with the comb, and the horror begins. It's like we're killing her. The nice thing is, Krys is pretty good at combing hair quickly, so this doesn't last that long. Once her hair is combed, we're all done. Krys gets her towel, and I must lift her straight up, which is becoming more and more difficult by the day. She's huge! There are lifts and such that we can get if she gets much bigger and can still not get out on her own power, but we'll see. Krys whisks her away to the bedroom, and just like that Christmas carol, all is calm.
It's quite the production, as I said. This is why Mia wallows in her own filth for days. Please don't call CPS! Are we horrible people?
posted by Greg at
8:31 PM
2 Comments:
Four days? Not exceptable sir. I use to put Alondra in the tub soap,rinse,soap,rinse and out she goes. Lately I've been letting her play in the tub for a little bit. Big mistake. By the time she is done playing (5 minutes the most) There is more water on the floor than in the tub.
By
ymelendez, at 9/6/05 1:31 PM
Four days is not horrible. Researchers have shown that trying to bathe as frequently as many people do (every day, for example) is actually harmful for adult skin and even more so for a child's, as their skin is much more delicate. I think that the gauge should be how active they've been, what they've been exposed to, etc.
By
Anonymous, at 20/9/05 9:06 AM
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