I Have A Dream*

It is a simple dream, but a dream nonetheless.

Every morning I wake up, I nurse the baby and paw at the snooze alarm repeatedly, wishing it earlier or later—I’m never sure which. The dappled sunlight from the closed blinds begins to creep under my drooping eyelids as I drift between awake and asleep.

Finally I resign myself to the fact that I need to get up and haul the baby and myself toward the bathroom. She sits in her Papasan chair and plays while I slink into the shower.

Moments after the stream of water hits my head the bathroom door opens and at least one of my two ambulatory children enter the room. Maybe this morning it’s M, shuffling into the room with one thing on her mind: Mommy? Can I have a cheese?

Just one! I mutter through the water I’m trying to keep out of my eyes and mostly off of my face. She retreats and, as usual, leaves the door open.

Shut the door! I yell and I can see in my mind’s eye all the precious warm air that makes me luxuriate in the shower sidling out the door behind my eldest child. She returns and closes the door without additional conversation.

Moments later the door reopens. It’s K this time and he’s shirking off his sleeper pajamas as he lumbers in, leaving the door open behind him. This time I waver between telling him to shut the door and not wanting him to pee on the floor because of my interruption of his task.

I wait for the stream to end and order the door shut. Okay, okay!

He exits and the door, mercifully, closes behind him.

I feel my body start to relax again as I wind up my shower duties. It is about this time that the door reopens and M hops in, energized by the score of a slice of processed cheese.

Naturally, she forgets to close the door. The once tropical air in the room is now tepid at best.

Close the door! I utter the refrain in hopes that I won’t immediately have goose bumps when I step out the shower door.

Later, I may need to use the bathroom for its other purpose. Again, I will not be alone. Granted, I will often have the baby with me for safety reasons, but that’s just a given with an infant. It’s the 6-year-old and the 4-year-old audience I could do without. I had mistakenly believed by the time the kids were this old I might have a shred of privacy in the bathroom, but alas it does not seem to be so.

This audience often has complaints about the scent, to which I say who invited you here anyway?

On the weekends, most of the time I have a respite from the stream of inquiries while I am in the shower, but it still seems to be a popular time to use the toilet or brush teeth nonetheless.

Perhaps I need to remember to push the lock button on the door.

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*My apologies for the poor timing of this post and the use of Dr. King's great words for a frivolous post.

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