Getting and Staying Clean

Why do I bother to shower?  Seriously.  I don't really socialize with anyone anymore.  And the one woman that I do see regularly also has a five month old child so her guess is as good as mine as to which one of us stinks.  This is why we should stick together.  No feelings will be hurt.  My friend also has a pool.  But I have noticed that even after swimming regularly that cool and refreshed feeling is short lived.  I tell myself that a dip in the pool is as good as any bath can get.  AND... I am multi-tasking.  A skill any mother worth her salt should be able to do.  The first and most important: I am providing daily exercise for my son.  He loves kicking and splashing around, and even at this young age I think he would play in the pool for hours if I'd let him.  The second task is more of a benefit: he is pooped after our swimming session so he sleeps really well afterwards.  Thirdly: I am getting clean.  And fourth: My son also gets clean.  And I'm sure that some of that chlorine must disinfect parts that need disinfecting.  Right?

So many times when I have taken the time to shower... wait a minute, "taken the time" to shower?  Ha. Ha. Ha.  I haven't taken my time to do anything lately.  After I shower, I am almost immediately "dirty".  Spit up in my hair (which I incidentally find hours later), dried breast milk which makes my shirt stick to my skin, and food on my clothes.  I have not yet mastered the art of eating one handed.  A skill which I practice every day but see little results.  I have to keep the plate, the glass, the fork, and the napkin as far away from the edge of the table as possible because my son's new goal in life is to touch absolutely everything around him.  So, with my plate in the middle of the table, I am challenged to get a fork full of pasta with spaghetti sauce into my mouth.  I have now decided that wearing clothes while at home is a stupid idea.  

Last night, we went to have sushi for dinner.  (I did determine that wearing clothes outside of the house is a good idea.)  Luckily, eating sushi does take care of that issue of never eating your meals hot, ever again, for the rest of your life as a mother.  Sushi already comes cold.  However, it comes with other obstacles.  Chopsticks (sharp, pointy wooden sticks), rice, and a small bowl filled with soy sauce is another really stupid combination when holding a child in your arms.  I am so unsuccessful at staying clean during mealtime that often times my son looks like he has taken over the job of a napkin.

Today I thought I would redeem myself by demonstrating success at another opportunity.  I was to meet some friends of my husband who I've never met before.  Surely, I could make a good impression this one time.  I showered and washed my hair, although my hair went right back into the bun that it came out of for the washing.  (In fact, it's still wet from six hours ago.)  I put on clean clothes and headed out the door.  I said hello, shook hands, and all the nicey-nice stuff goes really smoothly.  We're at a picnic and I am served a veggie burger.  I even cut it in half because I think this can only aid my challenge to keep clean.  My veggie burger was really yummy, and Kien was a big hit.  An hour or so later, I am chatting with someone whose name I forgot because I was too busy getting the handful of hair out of my son's death grip.  My eyes are drawn to a dark spot below my chin.  And of course, it's a large drop of relish/ketchup/mustard which has slid about an inch down my white shirt.

Another very obvious tip from Motherhood 101 that I ignored: NEVER wear white.  The other tip: cut whatever remaining hair you have on your head, as short as possible.  Immediately, as soon as your baby is born.  I stubbornly chose to hang on to the one remaining trait that I had pre-baby.  And, as demonstrated above, buns, no matter how tightly wound, do not mean that your hair is pull-proof.  My only choice is to get used to the feeling of having each and every hair pulled out of my head, one by one, slowly.  As if he is trying to strike a deal with me.  "Look, Mom." My son barters with me, "If you would just stop taking the hair that I have out of my hand, I wouldn't have to keep going back for more."

Hence, yet another reason why washing my hair is pointless.