Dedicated to All The Parents of Smelly Children

By Alex Iwashyna, blogger at Late Enough
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My children, E & N, love bath time.

If by love I mean N asks to bathe fourteen times a day and E says: I can’t. I’m tired.

While I run the water, I employ football tackles to keep N from climbing into the bath with her clothing on.

Then E is suddenly naked, jumps in, announces it’s too hot, jumps around, announces he has to pee, jumps out and leaves a trail of bath water JUST IN CASE he can't find his way back

My daughter, N, finally gets into the tub after an epic battle with her pants. She happily pees, and I strategically look the other way and hope my oldest doesn’t notice on his way back from the toilet

They have a blast.

He's going to be a FOUNTAIN when he grows up!

Until I say: Time to get washed up.







She responds: Mine?

So for every squirt into my own hands, one goes into hers. One expensive Aveno plop that gets rubbed on her Buddha belly over and over and over.

Until we get to her hair and she begins wadding away from me in terror.

I wash, soap, rinse as she wipes her eyes filled with: Why did you try to drown me, Mama?

Water boarding is not okay.

I move to my next stinky victim.

He screams and splashes me.

Ten minutes later, he has one foot, hair, and his right shoulder cleaned with soap. I have a face, the front of my shirt and my socks washed.

I call it a success and let them go back to creating a large pond on my bathroom floor.

As I get half way through writing a hilarious (to me) tweet, both kids decide OUT! OUT! OUT!

The Roman chorus grows louder until the end of my LOL tweet is OUTOUTOUTOUT.


Of course, OUT consists of two {sniff}-these-seem-alright towels, two kids insisting on both getting out FIRST and only two arms in which to lift, dry, carry.

Because the two of them MUST be carried to make up for the thirty-five minutes of bathing agony. All sixty-five pounds of togetherness. Until my biceps tremble and my back twists as though attempting to find a new less-afflicted body to inhabit.

But whenever I put anyone down? Tears.

Mostly mine.

Alex Iwashyna blogs at Late Enough mostly about life, parenting, marriage, zombies, culture, religion and her inability to wake up in the morning and not hate everyone. She also facilitates a local moms group called Nobody Told Me! (because OBVIOUSLY). Feel free to find her on Facebook, @L8enough on the Twitter, Flickr or StumbleUpon. But don't call. She uses her phone to manage all those accounts while avoiding real human interaction.



  1. Love the description, I know my time is coming, though A enjoys baths right now. Atleast in baths there is no blue buckets or awkwardness :)

  2. The "why did you try to drown me mama" look is so sad yet so cute all at the same time. Mine does the same. He has finally stopped crying when we wash the soap off of his head though. That's a win for us.

  3. Ugh. Bath time. I hate bath time. I have a hard enough time making sure I don't smell like a pirate. R is fine once he's in the tub, but before hand it's like trying to negotiate with a terrorist. We finally just have to spring it on him and sing and clap about it to make it sound like a good idea. Maybe I'll have my husband do the same for me…

    • This comment made me so happy. Because I'm TOTALLY getting Scott to start singing and clapping for me. As I finally showered this morning after days upon days upon days. BUT DON'T TELL ANYONE.

  4. I used to be a nanny. of yes. and bathtime was usually fun but I'd end up soaked. my boyfriend once wanted me to meet his parents after I'd watched the kids. I was like, wet and smelling pf baby soap? nope. I think not.

  5. Do you find that when it's time for hair washing they develop super powers that allow them to slip into the far, unreachable corners of the tub? Or is that just at my house?

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