Our usual Saturday morning routine involves swimming lessons. Greig takes the kids to their lessons individually because the times are spread out this block. He says he likes to take them because he doesn't get to take them to other things during the week and I choose to believe him:)
Sometimes I have a bath when it's just me and Brodie at home, because he's happy to watch Star Wars (thank you G. Lucas) and occasionally give me updates on the Millenium Falcon while I wallow in bubbles for a while.
It feels like a massive luxury to run a hot bath with bubbles and sink into it preferably with a good book or like this morning a crisp magazine. I had saved Red all week to read in the bath - does anyone else look forward to the December magazines more than the hallowed September issues?
I stayed in so long this morning that Greig and Grier came home and I was still in there. I could see Grier's eyes light up as she came bursting through the door - not just because she was pleased to see me - but because she loves bathing people, dolls, things.
After commenting on my wobbly bits - which to be fair describes me head to toe at this stage in the game she set to work washing my back. And whilst normally I would be wishing for peace and solace in an empty bathroom she was so gentle and careful l was so grateful for those little hands scooping up the water and bubbles. She was very serious about the task and as I fought to keep my wobbly bottom lip under control and the tears pooling in my eyes from falling I watched her concentrate on washing me as I have washed her little body so many times.
How many times do we rush through the mundane tasks of parenthood, feeding, bathing, soothing and washing? Wiping dribbly chins and bottoms and folding clothes and making beds. And we do it because we love them and we wrap them in our care hoping it translates some of what we feel directly into their hearts to sustain them for a lifetime. And here was my daughter gently washing my skin with care and attention and love.
After a while she was done and she starting heaping out handfuls of bubbles to leave a bubbly trail across the hardwood floors. And as many toddler adventures do this one ended with her falling and bashing her hand thanks to the bubble trail so I got out of the bath as quickly as I could and cuddled her tears away wearing one of the only towels which can now accomodate the bump. And as lovely as a morning being pampered at a posh spa would have been, soothing away the hot tears of my precious, big hearted, affectionate daughter whilst perched on the toilet in my untidy bathroom with the cracked sink was better. Grier spa, it doesn't get better than that.