After a very long and trying week I have decided today that I am going to treat myself to a lovely relaxing bath. I have bought bribery tools to keep the children busy and unsuspecting. Unfortunately, much like the time my mother tried to bribe us all with sweets so we would stay in the garden while she watched the Andrew and Fergie wedding, our keen spidey senses told us she wanted us out of the way too much, therefore we stayed close by as something big was obviously going down, Angel and Delight were not to be fooled either.
I put on sleeping beauty, hand them both a chocolate bar AND a hot chocolate and sneak upstairs. I have downloaded some whales at the opera, lit my candles, put in more radox suds than is allowed, I stick my ear out of the bathroom door to check for movement, nothing.. all quiet. Feeling very pleased with myself I sink into my steaming gorgeous bath.
I close my eyes and start my breathing techniques that my birth book says I must complete for a natural and pain free labour. I visualise a rose opening slowly and gently on a warm summers day, in the distance is a small babbling brook flowing gently under a delightful wooden bridge covered with honey suckle and the midwife hands me my baby who I have just effortlessly birthed whilst talking to the bees and being at one with nature.
My peaceful deep relaxation is suddenly broken by the sound of a suspicious plop. I look to my left to see a curly goblin sat on the loo swaying to the whales with her eyes closed. How the hell did she get in here undetected? My relaxation techniques must be working. My mind flicks to a snap shot of the book my mother used to read to me ‘Five minutes peace’.
“This is very nice in here mummy” the curly goblin says,” I like these” pointing at the candles, her little legs dangling and swinging. I smile at her urging her to flush the loo and vacate, but it looks as if she is staying. In no time at all I hear the familiar thud of a thousand elephants ascending the stairs. Angel appears, having picked up conversation on her radar “ooooh mummy you look very tired, keep still I know just what to do”. My peaceful reverie is fading fast. Before I can protest she has slapped two very wet pieces of loo roll over my eyes. “Now you just relax” she orders. Not possible darling. I am partially submerged in water with my iPod and speaker system plugged in close by, should you manage not to fling water over it and blow it up then there are a few candles at the end of the bath that I can sense you being drawn to. I try to subtly pick wet tissue that has now completely disintegrated out of my eyelid and cautiously open my eyes.
Delight has completely stripped now and is attempting to join me in the bath. After much bribery and promises of her own relaxing whale with no candles bath, she decides that actually I’m not that interesting and would rather go and play in her room, she drags Angel off too, persuasive little thing. Shrieks of laughter mixed with the occasional scream or death curdling protest play out as background music to my whales at the opera, who have now joined Jamie Cullum on stage for a duet. I cannot reach my iPod and so lie in my now tepid bath praying that this particular song will finish. After seven long minutes it shows no sign of stopping and unable to torture myself any more I clamber out of the bath and drip my way into my room. Angel appears at my door. “You have lots of wrinkles you know mummy” I smile, defeated. Tonight, I don’t care. I pull on my robe making a mental note to look up facial exercises on Google. I ring hubby who can only laugh and promises to take both Angel and Delight out when he returns from work next week. I consider making myself a ‘how many sleeps’ chart but opt instead to stuff my face with the family size bar of chocolate I hid earlier in the fridge, at least if I get fat it will smooth out the wrinkles!