Old Friend

I've been sick as hell for the last two days.  Effing miserable.  But when Brent got home from work tonight, he ran a bath for me like he used to back in the day, pre-nuggets.  It completely flooded me with memories as soon as I stepped in.

Before the kiddos came, I used to take a bath every single night.  No joke. I was the kind of girl who came home from work, and dropped trow right there in the foyer before the door was even finished slamming shut.  Work clothes always felt insanely constrictive to me and at first chance, I would shed them at the front door and b-line it straight to the bath to soak away the stress of the day.  It's how I rolled.

Brent usually brought me a glass of wine or something mid-soak and sat in the bathroom with me while we bullshited about the day until my water turned cold.  Gracie was always with me, pacing the perimeter of the tub and batting at me to put my hand down so she could balance on it to get a drink of water without falling in.  Without fail, her tail would inevitably get wet when she planted her big tush on the corner of the tub and let her tail float across the water.  Her wet tail would slap her on the head when she jumped down, at which point she would whip around very pissed off wondering what the hell smacked her and why her tail was wet.  Then, she very ferociously licked-dry her tail back to normal.  It was my every evening and something that completely disappeared once Thing 1 and Thing 2 entered the picture.

Since we've had the kids, I've maybe taken two baths in their four years of existence.  And sadly, my precious little destressing-bathtub-nook has become a landing spot for wet plungers, dirty underwear, and a water bowl for the cat.  It always has at least a handful of kitty litter particles sprinkled throughout the bottom of it too.  Pure misdemeanor-worthy neglect.

Tonight though, she was flawless again, sparkling clean, and twinkling with candles.  Slipping into it again felt like I was seeing an old friend.  And in less than 2.5 seconds, Gracie was back up on the edge, pacing the perimeter, and purring like a madman.  She remembered too.  It was our happy hour together and it had been ripped away from her, just as it had me, once the kids arrived.  She pawed at me for my hand and I obliged.  She sat her fat ass on the corner of the tub, flicked her tail across the water, and got pissed when it hit her on the head as she jumped down.  I was so caught up in the moment, that I completely forgot I was sick.  Maybe even for a split-second or two, I might have forgotten I was a mom.