Adulting is full of thousands of decisions and each one seems to demand a wise and discerning conclusion at the moments when you have the least amount of brain cells left to compile coherent thoughts. So here’s a freebie for when you are perusing the splendor that is Target and come upon the bathmat aisle… you need to splurge on the good–nay, dare I say great? bathmat.
I am a mom of three beautiful, strong, smart, strong, adventurous, strong, and creatively strong little ladies. Oh, I’m sorry did I mention they are really strong? Anywho, there is a lot they can do for themselves now that they are older and wiser but for everything else there’s “MOOOOOOOOMMMMMM”. It is nothing short of astonishing to watch them walk around their father and search the whole house to tell me they need more milk in their cup before trying to fill the flim flam cup themselves. Which means, there’s really nowhere for a mom to be alone in her own home.
While on most days this is bearable, sometimes hard stuff happens. Today hard stuff happened and I found myself needing to just cry it out…but it was prime time kid time. How would I make this work? In the end I found myself on the bathroom floor feigning a quality time poop experience just to get a second to process the hard stuff before heading out to discern who was taking more than their fair share of roof legos for their castle.
In the bathroom I sat on my tushy and hugged my knees in and remembered what it felt like to have a good cry– you know back in high school or even early adulthood when you could cry hard and loud and shake the bed with the heaving sobs and just snot it out. it was at this point that I thought hmmmmm, self? If you had to write a parenting book you might have a whole chapter about how everyone should spring for the memory foam bathmat.
Look, you’ve already had something hard to process and your kids are only going to give you 87 second max to process this emotional moment. The last thing you want is to rearrange your position 9 times because your bum is cold or the floor is too hard! You need the cadillac of bath mats so that you sink right in. And as your tushy is hugged by all that plush soft memory-foamy-goodness you can sink into the realization that it will all be okay and that tomorrow is another day and that seasons come and seasons go but that bathmat…
The bum-hugging miracle cloud you got at Target? That. Is. Forever.