Why I Don't Take More Showers

I used to be the "can't live without a shower each and every morning" kind of girl.  Now, I'm lucky if it's every other day.  (Except in the summer time when it's all hot and I sweat.  Then I take lots of showers. Don't hate.)  There's a good reason.

The house can be SILENT -- husband w/headphones on, doing work, kids in rooms reading or whatnot, dogs sleeping.  I think, "This is it.  The moment when I can hop in for my 4-minute shower and get in and out and clean and then get on with my day."

Then. I hear "Mama?" and the door opens.  Then I hear the flapping of little boy feet on the bathroom tile.  Then I hear dog toenails clacking. Then pretty soon, I hear my daughter asking, "What's going on? Why are you in the bathroom, Simon?" Then I start telling everybody to please leave me alone for the 3.7 seconds it takes me to rinse my hair.
Then HUSBAND senses a disturbance in the Force, and comes to see what's up.  And now, in our tiny bathroom, we have two elementary school kids, two confused dogs, and my husband.  And now I can't even get OUT of the shower because there's no damned room.

Finally, I shoo them all out with the threat that I'm actually going to just get out of the shower wet and naked, and if they want that seared into their brains, that's their own problem.  They finally leave.

And I reach for it, only to find they have somehow, for some mysterious reason, taken the towel.

*End Scene*

The Fine Art of 'Fessing Up

Today, I was in a snit.  A mood, as it were.  Raahhhhther unpleasant. 
Unfortunately, the snit turned into a bother, and the bother turned into a huff.  Then I had to go teach lessons. 

During my first lesson or two, I was ok.  Adequate.  But still a bit tetchy.  I had an underlying layer of grump.  Then it accelerated right into a full-blown peeve.  And sadly, the peeve crested right during one lesson. 

Oh, how I peeved.  I snitted and grumped and huffed.  No matter how I tried to ignore or rise above the mood, it washed over me like soupy slime.  This poor kid.  I'm usually cheerful -- silly and happy, but hardworking.  I make a heck of an effort to be in the moment as I teach.

Today, blech.  Not so. As I played and taught, I wondered how to handle this uncharacteristic buttheadedness.  So I tried my new favorite approach.

Candor.  That is one of my "words of the year."  Candor.  Just spill it.  Don't pussyfoot around, don't finesse it, don't sugar coat, just out with it. 

"Well, today? I was in a really bad grumpy mood.  I'm afraid I took it out on you a bit, and it had NOTHING to do with you.  I am having a bit of trouble with somebody, and I'm sorry.  You were fine.  I was the not-fine one.  Sorry."

And guess what she said?

"Ummm.  Ok?  I didn't notice anything."

So either she's a great liar or I'm a great actress.  But I really feel better having just outed myself.  And maybe perhaps, she can realize that adults have bad moments with friends and with colleagues and ... that it's ok to just say out loud "I'm sorry. I was a grump."  The world will not end, people will not point and laugh (necessarily). 

I'm a better person for having honestly admitted to being off my game.