Reason #4 – I don’t bathe C often enough

Reason #4 – I don’t bathe C often enough

May 27

We live in a country that shares a national obsession with showering. “Cleanliness is next to godliness” is taken literally here: someone who does not shower every day cannot be a good person. A bit like Americans and fat, I suppose (“Thinliness is next to godliness”?)

It doesn’t matter if it’s a cold day, if there is no hot water, if you have to walk a mile to find a shower, if you have not in any way made yourself sweaty or dirty. You must shower, or else.

I believe in saving water (and sparing efforts,) and bathing C takes about a cubic metre of water and it is a labour fit for Hercules.

His bathtub must be filled alternating pots of hot and cold water till the temperature is right (did I mention I bathe him in his bedroom instead of the bathroom?) A “dressing station” must be set up on my bed: a waterproof mat, his towel, clothes, lotions, diapers, etc. Just getting ready to bathe him takes a good 10-15 minutes.

Undressing him is actually easy – he’s a born nudist. Once in the water, we reenact the Battle of Trafalgar as I try to soap him up, rinse him down, scrub all the nooks and hard-to-reach areas while he splashes like mad, tries to snatch everything out of my hands, and waterboards himself with his sponge toys. His latest discovery was that you could pick up water in a container and then let it fall in a lovely cascade, and he laughs and laughs every time he pours water. All over me.

He never wants to get out of the tub, and when I try to lift him he does that thing cats do to make themselves heavier. I swear he makes himself weigh at least 3 kilos more. Then he wriggles and rolls and gets all tangled in his towel, he refuses to let me put on his diaper (“Born to be naked!! Skinful isn’t sinful!!”) and he sometimes also threatens to paint me a “Portrait of the baby as a fountain.” Finally, he channels Trinny and Susannah and takes personal offense with every single item of clothing I try to put on him.

As if this were not enough, I have to face the Simon Cowell of baby baths: “Did you scrub behind his ears? Did you rinse his hair well? His fingernails are still dirty! I bet you made his diaper too tight as usual. Is he wearing a vest? He hates those jeans, they are too stiff. Poor baby, come to grandma, your useless mother couldn’t even run a comb through your hair!”

And she wants me to do this every day.

Not. A. Chance.