File 100 - Bubble Bath Bombed

It has been a bit of a rough couple of weeks.  Everyone getting back to it.  Virtual work.  Virtual school. Puppy school.  With the transition back to the day-to-day grind, comes the usual muscle pains, headaches and deep breathing, while counting back from 10, to ensure that you don't lose your shit.  It is on these wearisome winter days, that I yearn for a warm bubble bath.  So, the other night, that is exactly what I did.  Or tried to, anyways.

It was after supper and my hubby decided that he was going to take the puppy for a walk.  I gently suggested that maybe he take the boys with him.  On a typical walk, that could buy me like 20-30 minutes.  He agreed and I excitedly waited.   They all got ready in the front entryway.  On your mark. They clipped the leash on the pup.  Get set.  And they were out the door.  Go!

I sprinted up the stairs and ran into the bathroom.  I ran the water for the tub full blast, willing it to go faster.  I dumped bubblebath into the water, while lighting a few rogue tea lights.  I was going to make this nice, dammit!  The bathtub was only half full, but I shut the bathroom door, hastily got my clothes off and got in.  Time was ticking!  It was only once it was done filling and I had sunk into the warm, glorious bubbles, that I realized it.  

The door.  The front door was unlocked.  I was naked, in a bathtub, home alone and the f**king front door was unlocked.  I snatched my phone and texted my husband - I'm in the bath.  I'm not sure exactly what I was expecting to accomplish with that.  And, in typical fashion, he texted me back a gif with a girl in the bath, from one of the Friday the 13th movies.  Right before she gets murdered.  That did a lot to ease my fear of foul play.  As I contemplated my exit strategy, if a homicidal maniac tried the front door, I heard to door swing open.  WTF?!?!?!

"HI MAMA!!!!"  No.  It couldn't be.  It had been like ten minutes.  Fifteen, max.  I froze.  They didn't know where I was.  I heard him call for me, again.  I heard the others return.  I sunk deeper into the bubbles.  The littles would never look for me in the bathroom, unless my husband spilled the beans. The boys made their way upstairs, but didn't seem to be looking for me.  I closed my eyes.  This was going to work out after all. Then, I heard the jingles.  Shit.  

It was the sound of approaching dog tags, jingling.  If anyone was going to sniff me out, it was going to be Oreo.  The jingles came into the bedroom.  Then, nothing.  I sighed with relief.  SCRATCH.  Great. The puppy was scratching at the bathroom door.  I tried to telepathically tell him to "get".  SCRATCH.  I willed him to get distracted and run off.  He is a baby dog, after all.  SCRATCH.  F**k.  

The next thing I knew, there was a puppy, a child and my husband, at the side of my tub.  I guess I should be thankful that it wasn't a maniacal murderer.  The bubble bath bombed.  At least I had the first 45 seconds of relaxation and silence, right?  Ten, nine, eight....

Does Mommy need to lose her shit?

Not this week.